Diary of a Kidney Stone

I wanted to call this post “All Things Must Pass: The Diary of a Kidney Stone”, but my host insisted that it would affect my Internet search rankings. What a sad state of affairs in 2010 when searchability trumps a good pun.

Saturday. Raised a ruckus. Host thinks it's stomach flu. I'll rest for a few days to throw him off the scent.

Wednesday. Been getting a little tired of sitting around inside this guy’s body. Tried to let him know, but he dismissed the burning sensation in the nether regions as temporary discomfort.

Thursday, 4:00 AM. Woke him up early with more “discomfort.” He used the extra time to play computer games and to think about scheduling a doctor’s appointment for later in the day.

Thursday, 7:00 AM. After the fool dutifully tried to get ready for work, I started rattling around in his kidney. That put him on his hands and knees. Heard a muffled female voice say, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Thursday, 9:00 AM. He sat in an awkward position to relieve the pain and try trick the doctors into thinking he was OK. Doctor wasn’t fooled and had the nurse shoot him up with painkillers. Bring on the good stuff! I let him walk after that.

Thursday, 10:00 AM. Got my first CAT scan. Finally convinced my host that he wasn’t wasting taxpayer dollars by going to Emergency.

Thursday, 11:30 AM. Doctor advises host of results (I’m small enough to pass!) and releases him. Host will regret not asking just exactly how big I am.

Thursday, noon. He went up to maternity to see his friend’s newborn. Who said kidney stones are all bad?

Thursday, 1:00 PM on. Spends rest of the day thinking he’s OK. Decides to go to work tomorrow.

Friday, 8:00 AM. I let him go to work. If he thinks the prescription painkillers and anti-inflammatories are strong enough, who am I to argue?

Friday 1:00 PM. Oh, did I mention the prescription side effects include nausea? Maybe I take too much pleasure in watching humans suffer, but really, who do they think they are sometimes?

Friday to Sunday. Host spends next three days in bed in a drugged stupor, vainly trying to keep down the food that he has to eat with his pills. Oh, the irony.

Sunday, noon. Host slowly clues in that he might be better off without the drugs. Weans himself as he settles in for a ten hour marathon of basketball and football. It’s just like old times when I first started forming.

Sunday, 3:30 PM. Knicks toy with Raptors all afternoon. Still looked more entertaining than one sided affairs that see the Giants beat Redskins and Vikings over Bills. Sorry we missed Donald Driver’s incredible touchdown run live.

Sunday, 7:00 PM. Peyton Manning puts an impressive 52 points on the scoreboard. Too bad 17 were for the other team. Tampa Bay ran the ball better than the Packers did against the Falcons, but it still wasn’t enough.

Sunday, 11:30 PM. How did the Steelers manage to pull off that win in the last two minutes? Hard to believe either team was left standing after they spent all night punching each other in the face. Man, 10 hours of sports, I’m going to miss this.

Sunday 11:35 PM. Now that all the games are over, time to make his life uncomfortable again. Wouldn’t want anyone to get a good night’s sleep now would we?

Monday, morning. The medication has worn off and he’s drinking fluids like crazy. I don’t like the looks of this. Maybe I’m not ready to take on the world.

Monday, noon. Decided to let him think he’s through the worst of it. Wait and see what happens when he goes into work to pick up his car.

Monday, 2:45. He talks to a co-worker who has hosted a few of my cousins. She thinks his temporary relief can be credited to my migration to his bladder. She warns him that it will get worse again. I hear him say he’ll be back at work tomorrow. I pity the fool. He means so well.

Tuesday, 12:35 AM. Wake up! Time to go the bathroom. What? You can’t? But you still feel like it anyway? Mwa ha ha!

Tuesday, 3:45 AM. Add water. Repeat.

Tuesday, 5:30 AM. Host--or is it hostage?--agrees to start typing my memoir in exchange for distraction from discomfort. Don’t know how long I can hold out. Still trying to decide if I can let him work or not.

Wednesday, 6:15 AM. That was close. I was holding on like Marlin and Dory to the whale's tongue in Finding Nemo. He claims he only felt a pinch. A PINCH? It feels like I'm losing my power.

Wednesday, 8:37 AM. Clink! Another pinch and I have hit the porcelain. Can’t wait to go to the lab and find out who my parents were.

Now that I've taken back control of my blog, I'd just like to thank the staff of Lakeridge Health Oshawa for taking care of me last week and putting up with all of my repeated questions. For some reason, I just couldn't seem to process anything I heard the first time. Ontario hospitals and emergency departments get such a bad rap (unfairly, based on my family's experience) that I thought they deserved a public compliment.