Stoned
Now that the ugly ordeal seems to have come to a merciful end, here’s a little more detail about what happened with my internal gravel pit often referred to as my right kidney.
A couple weeks ago, I had bad lower abdominal pain when I woke up. I thought it might be something I ate and assumed it would resolve itself on its own. I headed to work early where I was scheduled to take a deposition and planned to use the extra time at the office to continue my preparation. Instead I spent the morning pacing and grimacing and wincing as the pain got progressively worse. For the first time since highschool, I went to the ER as a patient. Turns out Wednesday mornings at about 9am is a pretty time to go to the ER. It was slow and I got plenty of immediate attention. That’s good because I can be…ummm…less than patient at times.
I described my symptoms to the ER doc who, after considering my symptoms and overall health and pondering it and pondering it for about 2 seconds, he said, “you have kidney stones.”
“We’ll run some tests, but I’m sure that’s what it is,” he said.
“Really? I think it might be gas.” I was paranoid that I had just wussed out and gone to the ER for no good reason. In fact I was convinced of it. For some reason I was immediately embarrassed that I had gone in as soon as I went in. I mean, heaven forbid I actually spend some of the money I’ve paid to my insurance companies.
“Have you ever had gas before?”
“Yes.”
“Well, has it ever hurt like this? Or for this long?”
“Uhhhh…no actually, but I’m sure it’s nothing. In fact, I’m feeling better, so I think maybe I’ll just go.”
“No.” He said, frowning. “Why don’t you sit tight for a bit. I think it’s a kidney stone and if you really are feeling better, I bet it will be temporary. Just strip down to your birthday suit in front of a bunch of strangers, put on this ugly dress that redefines the term ‘backless gown’ wait in this cold, unprivate room for an unknown amount of time while we do secret things on the other side of this curtain and generally ignore or scowl at you, and then give us a urine sample.”
“Fine.”
About 5 minutes later I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight. They gave me some drugs and sent me to X-Ray. Thankfully about that time, my wife came and met me after having found a nice man selling flowers off the freeway exit to look after our boys for the afternoon. Of course I’m kidding about that part….they were oranges, not flowers. It was good that she was there though because not only do I just like it better when she is, but the pain and drugs had conspired to rob me of about ¾ of my already overtaxed IQ points and even finding radiology was going to be a real challenge. A few x-rays later and it was confirmed. I had a stone. Just south of my kidney. In technical medical terms, it was a “doozie.” That is from the Latin, meaning: This is really going to hurt.
It was a massive outcropping of unidentified chemical composition. It was not only two large to pass, but the doctors seemed surprised they didn’t see a visible lump on my right side from the stone sticking out. In reality, the stone was about 8 milimeters, which is roughly the size of the brain of the people who think Peter Jackson shouldn’t be allowed to direct the movie version of the book, “The Hobbit.” i.e., very, very small.
But it was still to big to make its way out of the body through tubes which were not designed for something like that to pass through. Speaking of these tubes, I would like to know why we need so many nerve endings surrounding these things. I mean, would I be worse off if I couldn’t feel anything that passes between my kidney and my bladder? Did this happen when Man fell from grace in the Garden of Eden? I mean, did that part get left out of Genesis? The woman would feel pain in childbirth, the man would have to work the soil and all people will now feel excruciating pain should they have to try to pass anything solid from their kidneys. Thanks a lot first people. Nice work.
Ok, so maybe it’s not their fault, but it’s always nice to have someone to blame that did something wrong and aren’t around to defend themselves.
I went in to see a urologist to determine what could be done about the pain, the giant rock in my gut, etc. He had a strange affect that I found immediately off-putting. He seemed to address me and my questions as if he’d been telling me for years to change my lifestyle and now that he was proved right, he was almost gleeful as he got to say “I told you so.” Of course, we had never met before, but that’s still how he acted. We also, as it turned out, make different uses of some of the same words. For example, we had a version of the following conversation:
“We will go in and put a stint in place during the procedure.”
“A ‘stint’? What is that exactly? Will it be painful?”
“Not painful. No. It will burn when you urinate and if you completely empty your bladder you could experience discomfort, but you will not likely pass out or be vomiting from the pain.”
Let me tell you, that wasn’t particularly reassuring. On my pain scale there is a lot of sensation that I don’t want, that I still call “pain” that falls well short of making me pass out or vomit. Anyway, eventually his short, clipped answers, apparent unwillingness to explain anything to me, and strange sadistic smirk were so irritating I just stood silently and tried to think of more happy thoughts like being thrown from a moving car onto a gravel road, while my more level-headed wife was good enough to carry on the discussion.
After that, the decision was made to do an ESWL procedure which meant I would be under general anesthesia and they would try to bust the stone up by hitting me with shock waves from outside the body. My wife’s urologist (yes we both have one for the same reason), had once told her that she would feel like she had gone 5 rounds in a prize fight after waking up from this procedure and would be quite sore and bruised from the procedure. My urologist said as follows:
“So, is this going to hurt me?”
“No, (looking at me like I was a complete idiot or pansy or both), you will be asleep.”
“Right, I know, but I mean, will it hurt when I wake up? Will there be any pain or bruising?” I asked, remembering what my wife’s doctor had told her.
“No. No pain. It will be like you just played in a football game where you got tackled or did something else rough like that.”
In other words, yes there would be pain, but not if by “pain” you mean passing out and retching, which is apparently the only thing that qualifies in his book.
So, I went in for my ESWL. I got my first IV that I can remember (though I probably had one when my wisdom teeth were yanked). Then I went off to deep sleep. When I awoke, I vaguely remember the doctor telling me that he had not been able to find the stone, so they could not do the procedure, but they did put in a stint. That was a less than satisfactory way to wake up after a medical procedure.
I came in that day in pain, but with the medication it was tolerable and I actually felt pretty good even though I was pretty stoned. I left feeling awful. Lots of pain, lots of discomfort. All in all, an excellent day at the hospital. The stint caused me to feel like I had to pee, really really bad, all the time. Seriously for the rest of the afternoon, I could not go 3 minutes without peeing. And I will avoid the graphic details, but I will say that peeing was terrifyingly painful. Sure I didn’t pass out or throw up, but I wished I would have done the former. I actually became afraid to consume liquid because it was so painful. Bad, bad times.
Then, when I was a little more lucid, Tanya reminded me of the rest of what the doctor had told me. He said that the stone was made of uric acid and that it would likely dissolve over time and could eventually pass normally without further procedures. The plan was to just leave the stint in for 4-6 weeks and see what happens. Upon hearing this news I became enraged and afraid all at once. I couldn’t live in this state for 4-6 more days, much less weeks. I was in pain and it was actually getting worse. That truly sounded like the worst course of treatment I could imagine. Of course, I didn’t say anything because I was stoned out of my mind.
I decided that my pain must just be because the stint was new and I thought I would give it a couple days to, I don’t know, break in?. A couple days later, things were getting even worse. I was planning to go to work that day, but the pain (and other symptoms) were so bad, I called the doctor’s office to get some good news and some bad news. The bad news was that they were worried and wanted me to come right in. The good news was that my urologist had the day off so I would have (get) to see someone else.
The new doc, who I instantly liked a lot better, explained that some people react very badly from the stint and it was clear to him (and me for that matter) that I was one of them. That meant it needed to come out, but the stone would then need to be busted up. Fearing a repeat performance with the ESWL procedure, the new doc proposed going “in” with a scope and a laser and actually busting up the stone with the laser. It was riskier than the ESWL because things can be scraped and ruptured and whatnot, but it was also the quickest and best way to get the issue resolved and still a simple, low risk procedure, if it’s not happening to you .
With no doubt that God was carefully watching over me through all of this, I am not surprised looking back, that this doctor had time to do the procedure in question that very afternoon. So, I called my wife, who again had to scramble to find child care (fortunately we don’t really have to rely on strangers on the freeway onramp. We have an abundance of friends and family who seem to be without limits to their generosity when it comes to giving their time to watch our kids). She again got to the hospital in time to comfort me through my…let’s call it discomfort…with being in the hospital and the procedure that was planned.
Long story less long, they removed the stint, blasted the stone and all went well. That was followed by 2 days of the worst pain I have ever experienced as I passed the “gravel.” The doctor thankfully removed much of the stone remnants while I was out, but there were still some in there and when it got bad, there was no amount of medication that even touched the pain. But then, starting on the evening of the second day after the procedure, the pain was gone. It was at first replaced by pretty intense nausea, but that was short lived.
To some degree I think my body is still recovering from the procedures and even more from the 9 days living on water and pain pills (or the fashion model diet as some call it). But the pain is gone and I’ve been back at work for a week and a half and am feeling pretty good. The only downside now is the instructions to cut back on red meat, salt and caffeine (or all three major food groups), which leaves me very little to eat without drastically changing my diet.
I have cut back and I drink more water now, but now I’ve also discovered that my stone was not uric acid as originally thought, but calcium oxcilate….or something like that. I don’t know what that means yet, but I’ll go in and talk to the doctor hopefully next week to find out.
But all is well now. Thank you to everyone who was praying for me. There were lots of times when things could have taken a turn for the worse or gone badly and they didn’t. Instead, I just had a relatively brief episode of nastiness and that’s that.
I am now quite busy at work catching up, but hopefully this will be the first of more regular blog entries. If you are not in the habit of checking my other blogs, but want to read my thoughts on the new Bond film which is now like 10 years old, I posted a review on that other site. Enjoy.
Coming soon: A follow up to my post on sliced bread that I think you will find is the best thing since Tivo.
A couple weeks ago, I had bad lower abdominal pain when I woke up. I thought it might be something I ate and assumed it would resolve itself on its own. I headed to work early where I was scheduled to take a deposition and planned to use the extra time at the office to continue my preparation. Instead I spent the morning pacing and grimacing and wincing as the pain got progressively worse. For the first time since highschool, I went to the ER as a patient. Turns out Wednesday mornings at about 9am is a pretty time to go to the ER. It was slow and I got plenty of immediate attention. That’s good because I can be…ummm…less than patient at times.
I described my symptoms to the ER doc who, after considering my symptoms and overall health and pondering it and pondering it for about 2 seconds, he said, “you have kidney stones.”
“We’ll run some tests, but I’m sure that’s what it is,” he said.
“Really? I think it might be gas.” I was paranoid that I had just wussed out and gone to the ER for no good reason. In fact I was convinced of it. For some reason I was immediately embarrassed that I had gone in as soon as I went in. I mean, heaven forbid I actually spend some of the money I’ve paid to my insurance companies.
“Have you ever had gas before?”
“Yes.”
“Well, has it ever hurt like this? Or for this long?”
“Uhhhh…no actually, but I’m sure it’s nothing. In fact, I’m feeling better, so I think maybe I’ll just go.”
“No.” He said, frowning. “Why don’t you sit tight for a bit. I think it’s a kidney stone and if you really are feeling better, I bet it will be temporary. Just strip down to your birthday suit in front of a bunch of strangers, put on this ugly dress that redefines the term ‘backless gown’ wait in this cold, unprivate room for an unknown amount of time while we do secret things on the other side of this curtain and generally ignore or scowl at you, and then give us a urine sample.”
“Fine.”
About 5 minutes later I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight. They gave me some drugs and sent me to X-Ray. Thankfully about that time, my wife came and met me after having found a nice man selling flowers off the freeway exit to look after our boys for the afternoon. Of course I’m kidding about that part….they were oranges, not flowers. It was good that she was there though because not only do I just like it better when she is, but the pain and drugs had conspired to rob me of about ¾ of my already overtaxed IQ points and even finding radiology was going to be a real challenge. A few x-rays later and it was confirmed. I had a stone. Just south of my kidney. In technical medical terms, it was a “doozie.” That is from the Latin, meaning: This is really going to hurt.
It was a massive outcropping of unidentified chemical composition. It was not only two large to pass, but the doctors seemed surprised they didn’t see a visible lump on my right side from the stone sticking out. In reality, the stone was about 8 milimeters, which is roughly the size of the brain of the people who think Peter Jackson shouldn’t be allowed to direct the movie version of the book, “The Hobbit.” i.e., very, very small.
But it was still to big to make its way out of the body through tubes which were not designed for something like that to pass through. Speaking of these tubes, I would like to know why we need so many nerve endings surrounding these things. I mean, would I be worse off if I couldn’t feel anything that passes between my kidney and my bladder? Did this happen when Man fell from grace in the Garden of Eden? I mean, did that part get left out of Genesis? The woman would feel pain in childbirth, the man would have to work the soil and all people will now feel excruciating pain should they have to try to pass anything solid from their kidneys. Thanks a lot first people. Nice work.
Ok, so maybe it’s not their fault, but it’s always nice to have someone to blame that did something wrong and aren’t around to defend themselves.
I went in to see a urologist to determine what could be done about the pain, the giant rock in my gut, etc. He had a strange affect that I found immediately off-putting. He seemed to address me and my questions as if he’d been telling me for years to change my lifestyle and now that he was proved right, he was almost gleeful as he got to say “I told you so.” Of course, we had never met before, but that’s still how he acted. We also, as it turned out, make different uses of some of the same words. For example, we had a version of the following conversation:
“We will go in and put a stint in place during the procedure.”
“A ‘stint’? What is that exactly? Will it be painful?”
“Not painful. No. It will burn when you urinate and if you completely empty your bladder you could experience discomfort, but you will not likely pass out or be vomiting from the pain.”
Let me tell you, that wasn’t particularly reassuring. On my pain scale there is a lot of sensation that I don’t want, that I still call “pain” that falls well short of making me pass out or vomit. Anyway, eventually his short, clipped answers, apparent unwillingness to explain anything to me, and strange sadistic smirk were so irritating I just stood silently and tried to think of more happy thoughts like being thrown from a moving car onto a gravel road, while my more level-headed wife was good enough to carry on the discussion.
After that, the decision was made to do an ESWL procedure which meant I would be under general anesthesia and they would try to bust the stone up by hitting me with shock waves from outside the body. My wife’s urologist (yes we both have one for the same reason), had once told her that she would feel like she had gone 5 rounds in a prize fight after waking up from this procedure and would be quite sore and bruised from the procedure. My urologist said as follows:
“So, is this going to hurt me?”
“No, (looking at me like I was a complete idiot or pansy or both), you will be asleep.”
“Right, I know, but I mean, will it hurt when I wake up? Will there be any pain or bruising?” I asked, remembering what my wife’s doctor had told her.
“No. No pain. It will be like you just played in a football game where you got tackled or did something else rough like that.”
In other words, yes there would be pain, but not if by “pain” you mean passing out and retching, which is apparently the only thing that qualifies in his book.
So, I went in for my ESWL. I got my first IV that I can remember (though I probably had one when my wisdom teeth were yanked). Then I went off to deep sleep. When I awoke, I vaguely remember the doctor telling me that he had not been able to find the stone, so they could not do the procedure, but they did put in a stint. That was a less than satisfactory way to wake up after a medical procedure.
I came in that day in pain, but with the medication it was tolerable and I actually felt pretty good even though I was pretty stoned. I left feeling awful. Lots of pain, lots of discomfort. All in all, an excellent day at the hospital. The stint caused me to feel like I had to pee, really really bad, all the time. Seriously for the rest of the afternoon, I could not go 3 minutes without peeing. And I will avoid the graphic details, but I will say that peeing was terrifyingly painful. Sure I didn’t pass out or throw up, but I wished I would have done the former. I actually became afraid to consume liquid because it was so painful. Bad, bad times.
Then, when I was a little more lucid, Tanya reminded me of the rest of what the doctor had told me. He said that the stone was made of uric acid and that it would likely dissolve over time and could eventually pass normally without further procedures. The plan was to just leave the stint in for 4-6 weeks and see what happens. Upon hearing this news I became enraged and afraid all at once. I couldn’t live in this state for 4-6 more days, much less weeks. I was in pain and it was actually getting worse. That truly sounded like the worst course of treatment I could imagine. Of course, I didn’t say anything because I was stoned out of my mind.
I decided that my pain must just be because the stint was new and I thought I would give it a couple days to, I don’t know, break in?. A couple days later, things were getting even worse. I was planning to go to work that day, but the pain (and other symptoms) were so bad, I called the doctor’s office to get some good news and some bad news. The bad news was that they were worried and wanted me to come right in. The good news was that my urologist had the day off so I would have (get) to see someone else.
The new doc, who I instantly liked a lot better, explained that some people react very badly from the stint and it was clear to him (and me for that matter) that I was one of them. That meant it needed to come out, but the stone would then need to be busted up. Fearing a repeat performance with the ESWL procedure, the new doc proposed going “in” with a scope and a laser and actually busting up the stone with the laser. It was riskier than the ESWL because things can be scraped and ruptured and whatnot, but it was also the quickest and best way to get the issue resolved and still a simple, low risk procedure, if it’s not happening to you .
With no doubt that God was carefully watching over me through all of this, I am not surprised looking back, that this doctor had time to do the procedure in question that very afternoon. So, I called my wife, who again had to scramble to find child care (fortunately we don’t really have to rely on strangers on the freeway onramp. We have an abundance of friends and family who seem to be without limits to their generosity when it comes to giving their time to watch our kids). She again got to the hospital in time to comfort me through my…let’s call it discomfort…with being in the hospital and the procedure that was planned.
Long story less long, they removed the stint, blasted the stone and all went well. That was followed by 2 days of the worst pain I have ever experienced as I passed the “gravel.” The doctor thankfully removed much of the stone remnants while I was out, but there were still some in there and when it got bad, there was no amount of medication that even touched the pain. But then, starting on the evening of the second day after the procedure, the pain was gone. It was at first replaced by pretty intense nausea, but that was short lived.
To some degree I think my body is still recovering from the procedures and even more from the 9 days living on water and pain pills (or the fashion model diet as some call it). But the pain is gone and I’ve been back at work for a week and a half and am feeling pretty good. The only downside now is the instructions to cut back on red meat, salt and caffeine (or all three major food groups), which leaves me very little to eat without drastically changing my diet.
I have cut back and I drink more water now, but now I’ve also discovered that my stone was not uric acid as originally thought, but calcium oxcilate….or something like that. I don’t know what that means yet, but I’ll go in and talk to the doctor hopefully next week to find out.
But all is well now. Thank you to everyone who was praying for me. There were lots of times when things could have taken a turn for the worse or gone badly and they didn’t. Instead, I just had a relatively brief episode of nastiness and that’s that.
I am now quite busy at work catching up, but hopefully this will be the first of more regular blog entries. If you are not in the habit of checking my other blogs, but want to read my thoughts on the new Bond film which is now like 10 years old, I posted a review on that other site. Enjoy.
Coming soon: A follow up to my post on sliced bread that I think you will find is the best thing since Tivo.
Comments
Ugh, brother. I'm glad it's over and hope you don't have to go through it again.
Shalom,
STONED-Campbell Disciple
(Bobby Valentine)