And now, to quickly grab your attention, please watch Phil's part from Modern Family to understand what I may have looked like (starts at :35 seconds).
No, this is not a granola cluster.
Oh no. This my friends, this is a kidney stone. Small in size (if you're lucky), but packs a mean punch. And quite fittingly to the gonads!
I like to think of the Marines commercial when I think of others who have suffered from kidney stone attacks:
"The few. The proud. The kidney stone sufferers."
Hey you passed it, be proud.
Now, if I do say so myself, it feels like quite the accomplishment passing this "tiny" little bastard. What, after all the excruciating pain one endures whilst suffering from a kidney stone attack, you're left wondering where your parade is. A trophy or medal would be nice. But in the end, for me at least, it was all too anti-climactic, compared to most others.
I'll never forget the date. One because it's associated with the most agonizing pain I've ever felt. And two, well, because it's as simple as counting in numerical order: 8/9/10
A day which will live in infamy (hooray, another military reference...).
I had just returned from an eventful few days spent in Pittsburgh and Ohio visiting friends. The majority of the final day was spent driving back from Columbus to Southern Maryland. And the majority of that, was spent sitting on I-68, stuck in traffic because of an overturned tanker. Fun. Regardless, I had been sitting a lot on said trip, with no water. Now I'm sure this little tiny bastard had been planning it's attack on me long before this trip, but I'm sure my lack of hydration didn't help.
It was nice to finally be home at the early hour of 1AM. I had just finished my delicious Checkers meal, took a bath (yes, I take baths), and opened a package containing a vinyl record (Alkaline Trio's "Maybe I'll Catch Fire"...or a kidney stone). After all was said and done, I had hit the hay. Exhausted from being on the road 8 hours, and stuck in traffic for an additional 4.
Little did I know what was waiting for me the next morning.
To be totally serious here, what's really frightening about kidney stones is they happen with no warning signs at all. Literally it's as if someone stabbed you in the back out of nowhere. You're fine one second, and on the floor the next. It's no joke. Watch what you eat and drink.
Now, when I say ... what I felt the next morning was the worst pain ever, I really mean it. If you know me, I may over exaggerate details, but I'm not kidding with this. It was, by far, the worst. pain. ever. At first I thought it was back spasms, something I quite frequently get if I am indeed, dehydrated. However, that's when the pain went from my flank, down to my groin. About the time I felt something may be wrong (this is where the worst pain ever kicks in). In the medical world, they call it "renal colic" -- where said pain radiates from the lower abdomen, down to your groin. In simpler terms, it's like someone is grabbing you by the genitals and twisting them, or punching them, or both. Ladies, I'm assuming it's like child birth.
I found myself crumpled over in pain on the bathroom floor. Naturally my first thought was death. I was going to die in my bathroom (over exaggeration). Then the wave of nausea hit, and we all know dry-heaves aren't any fun. That was my second clue that something may be wrong. Luckily this was in the early morning hour, so my father was able to rush me to the wonderful Civista Medical Center just 6 miles away. Sitting in the car actually felt quite pleasant. The pain had subsided and I was in a better mood. This is where kidney stones get you. The pain comes in waves, if you're lucky. If not, it just doesn't stop. Hard to believe there can be lucky ones with kidney stones.
I get to the ER. They do the normal checks and what not. The bullshit questions that are meaningless, and finally we get down to business. I get injected with some type of fluid to dye my blood so they can see if anything shows up on the X-Rays. This was the fun part. Taking my mind off everything. Finally after waiting, the wonderful staff at Civista tells my doctor that the results are negative, and I have no kidney stone. And to quote Michael Scott, "Well apparently in the medicine community, negative means good. Which makes absolutely no sense. In the real world community, you- that would be chaos."
"Relief!" Me thinks. ...So why do I all of a sudden feel the same pain flaring up again...
The doctor goes back to follow up with .. whoever, and comes back with some delightful news. Sure enough, they were wrong (God love 'em) and I indeed had a stone. I've had my issues with Civista before, but this didn't seem to bother me. I was more concerned with my urinary tract being the route of travel for this giant pebble for the next few days. So I was sent home, no meds, just a simple order, "Drink plenty of water and it will pass." Yeah, easy for her to say, she wasn't the one with a jagged rock making it's slow, agonizing journey down her ureter. Or maybe she was and she hid it better than me. Who knows.
Actually, after all this, it wasn't even the first day that was the worst. Oh no. 8/10/10 is actually the day that will live in infamy. This day gets graphic. Despite all my pain, my growing relationship with the bathroom floor, and my lack of sleep, nothing really new happened that morning. However, that afternoon, the pain became absolutely unbearable. So unbearable in fact, I informed my mother it was best to go back to that wonderful hospital. Before I go on, the most annoying thing about kidney stones is not the pain, it's the fact that you can't pee. I mean, you can, but it's just dribble. And fuck is that annoying. Imagine having to pee so badly, and yet, you can't. Ultimate tease. This, I think, is why the pain got so bad.
As I'm pacing around in the waiting room, to much delight, I finally hear my name called. Now, I'm a very polite person. I treat others the way they want to be treated. "Yes sir", "yes ma'am" kinda guy. However, that tiny bastard turned me into the devil.
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is the pain? 1 being the least, 10 being the most," she says.
"It's a fucking 10," I delightfully replied, staring daggers at her. My eyes probably blood red.
She stared at me and calmly replied, "I was just asking."
Great. Kick me while I'm down. I apologized for my response and told her it wasn't me, but the pain.
She laughed. We're friends again.
Then she kicks me back out into the waiting room. Not sure how many minutes went by, seemed like eons until I heard my name called again. This visit was much more informative, and quick. This nurse asked the same basic questions, and I gave the same basic responses. However, she said there was nothing they could do, except to prescribe me some Percocet. "Fantastic," I thought. "I'll drug myself into a stupor until this thing passes." It's never that easy.
I've never taken Percocet before, so forgive my ignorance here. What I didn't know, and what they failed to tell me (love that hospital), was that you should take these pills on a full stomach. Now I hadn't eaten much that day. To be honest, doing anything at all caused pain. So she gives me some to take, or I got some at County Drug (this is where it gets foggy). Where is besides the point. So I take it, and I start feeling a bit better, yay.
This is where it gets graphic.
That 6 mile ride home was quite possibly the longest ride home ever. The medicine was not working. It worked for...maybe 5 minutes. Then my insides felt like they were being cut up by thousands of razor blades. I feel nauseous. The morning before seems like paradise compared to this moment. "This is happening," I thought. "I'm going to vomit in the car." Mother and I struggle to get a plastic bowl for my insides to go in, trying to beat the ticking time bomb that is my stomach. Success, we have found said bowl. I won't be throwing up on the Highlander's carpet.
Commence throwing up.
Much to my surprise though, I'm throwing up blood. This medicine is no joke. You can imagine how my mother felt at this time. So not only do I have a kidney stone, but I can't piss, and now I'm throwing up blood. Trifecta complete. My mother insists that I not spill the bowl. Here I am thinking she's lucky we even found the bowl. "No worries," I said.
Yeah. Definitely spilled some. It wasn't pleasant. To this day I always remind her where it hit on the floor. Awesome son, I know.
Luckily for anyone reading this, that's about as graphic as it gets. Knowing the ever so vital knowledge that you should take that medicine on a full stomach, it actually started to work. So much so, I was able to see a Ukrainian (shinfo) urologist the next day to further dive into the wonders known as my, "very, very small" kidney stone. He was a good guy, appreciated my russian Ovechkin shirt. He assured me the stone was "very, very small" and I'd pass it within a few days. He then prescribed me some medicine that I'll never forget. Simply because his main concern was if I was sexually active (who has sex with a kidney stone in them anyways). The medicine I received allowed me to go to the bathroom with relatively more ease than usual, but it would not allow me to ejaculate properly.
Bummer.
So, after what seemed like decades, I was on my way to feeling better. The little bastard finally made it's long journey into my bladder. My lower back felt better, but I was still in some slight discomfort. I was more worried about the next stage of pain -- the stone coming out. I envisioned pissing razor blades. I envisioned many things, many gruesome things. I read countless horror stories online how this was even more painful than it being stuck inside your ureter. For you lucky folks out there who haven't experienced this, try to imagine pissing a pebble out through your urethra. Now make this nightmare a reality. Not pleasant.
I was giving a sifter-like contraption to go to the bathroom on...or in, to catch the stone. It wasn't as messy as I thought it'd be. Luckily we guys can aim. A few days had passed. Nothing. I was starting to get anxious but at the same time, felt no pain. I was chugging water like a mad man. Then, after 5 long gruesome days after waking up feeling like someone had stabbed me, I felt a sharp, yet quick, stabbing pain whilst going to the bathroom. Silly me did not use the sifter-thing here. I noticed something at the bottom of the toilet. Alas, it was gone before I could get a look and -- well who am I kidding. I wasn't going to reach in and grab it. I could only assume that tiny little thing, was my stone. And it was gone.
"That was easy," I thought.
There wasn't any sappy "goodbye" moment. No, "I'll never let go, Jack," moment. I was glad that bitch was gone. Nagging at my side for 5 days, being a constant pain in my groin. I was more than happy to flush our memories, literally, down the toilet. The most excruciating pain one can feel, was finally gone. They say passing a stone is like having a child, in guy terms. But as one good friend said, "ya but you can't cuddle kidney stones, so it's a lot of pain for nothing."
So true.
I'll admit, I don't take going to the bathroom for granted anymore. A seemingly mundane task to most, is something I cherish each and every day (over exaggeration).
If I have to leave you with any advice, it's this: always have water with you. Take it wherever you go, especially on car rides. Cut down on sodium, and drink cranberry juice. Don't worry, you're not a pussy. You just don't want to experience this pain. Ever.
As the saying goes: This too shall pass (but first you must endure blinding pain and incompetent hospital staff).
