My Blasted Kidney Stone Report

 

First of all, I just want to say (while I remember), that there is nothing so cozy, nothing so comforting, nothing so ‘safe’ as the feel of my husband’s big hand on top of my head.  It has carried me thru all sorts of crisis and non-crisis alike.  And the only thing better than that, is when he is also praying out loud for me while he’s got his big ol’ hand on my head.  I hope he is around for awhile.  I don’t think there’s another hand out there that could fit my greasy head like his does.

Ok, so my field trip to the UT Medial Blasting Zone was, um, entertaining.  I guess it would have been fun except for ‘pain’ was involved.  And any sort of pain, in any form, negates any level of potential fun.

So first thing I saw (as I checked in late) was a lady in an orange jumper, complete with handcuffs and ankle chains, escorted by a policemen filling out paperwork.  I wondered at my chances of getting her as a roommate, but as it turned out, I didn’t get a roommate.  That would have undoubtedly made things more interesting.

I got checked in and then after an x-ray (done by three overly chipper blonde girls who must’ve been 13 and 14), I made my way up to the surgery room.  Room. Ha.  It was a little cave in the wall with a curtain pulled across the front. The whole hall was full of other little caves.  Most of them had their curtains open.  I kept mine all the way closed.   The nurse told me to put on a ridiculous purple gown and then when I was halfway thru changing she flung open the curtain of my cave and asked some dumb question. Unpleasant.

She was nice enough to come back when I was fully concealed in the ridiculous purple gown and then she asked a billion questions. 

“Hello again…. Mrs. Ug-sha-wishuh?” 

“Sure”

Do you smoke?  Do you have a tumor?  How many cats do have?  What’s the square root of thirty six? Are you able to stand on your head? And so forth.  My answers were ‘no’ to all, and happily, my husband did not contradict me when she asked if I had a history of mental problems.  

Then she asked if I had any fears or anxieties over the surgery.  And I told her “Yes, actually, I do”.  Which is the truth.  Anything hospital related gives me a beastly fright.  She looked concerned but I assured her that they were all unfounded and unreasonable. 

Then she asked, “Well how do you cope with your anxiety, is there anything you’re able to do to pull you thru stressful situations?”  So I told her, “Yeah, I panic.  That’s my approach to pretty much anything scary”.  And she said, “ha. ha. ha.” and left.

The next thing I knew a creepy guy with a white coat, decorated with sharp shiny needles, came shuffling and hobbling over holding up a large spike filled with smoking, bubbling yellow liquid. 

“Are you Jenefer Eshu-ee-mushga?”

“Sure”

Then he aimed that spike at my IV.  Panic struck, I asked him, “Uh…. What the heck is that?” 

And he replied, “bwwaaaaa ha ha ha ha hee hee heee… you will likey.  All people in hospital bed likey likey”

And then he squirted that stuff right into my IV tube and the next thing I knew – to my horror—I started giggling like a loon.  

Then suddenly, I opened my eyes and I was in this weird circular room with about six men in their separate beds wearing ridiculous purple gowns.  Half were sleeping but the ‘awake half’ were all staring blankly at one another. I realized I was staring, too.  And then I started shaking.  Hard.  Like I was afraid I was going to shake myself right off the bed, and a nurse came over and stared at me and started talking to me about the Olympics.  I’m almost positively sure that happened.  And then she signaled for Igor and he shuffled over and started poking around with my IV again.

Sometime later I woke up again in that weird circular room; I think there were new ‘blankly staring’ guys but I can only remember one very large and hairy man who was directly across from me who had his mouth wide open and he was snoring.  His ridiculous purple gown did not fully fit. 

I was suddenly struck with a dreadful thirst.  So the Olympics nurse came over and I told her, “Could you pl—what in the wor–? How come I can’t talk?” and she told me, “You had a tube down your throat; it’ll probably smart for a day or so”.  

So I rasped, “Please get me some water” and she told me, “No”.

No? What do you mean no?  So I repeated, “Please get me some water, I’m really thirsty”

And she said, “No.  You can’t have any water.  It’ll make you sick”.   

You can’t imagine how thirsty I was.  And then she started to walk off and I began to panic.  “Hey,” I rasped, “Then get me some ice, ok?” and she turned around and real sing-songy like she snickered, “Ummmmmm, ICE… is… *WA-TER*”. Smart alek.  So then I got mad and I told her, “Oh yeah?!! Well that’s what they give you when you’re in labor!!!!!!!!”  

Thinking back on it, that isn’t as cuttingly clever and triumphant as I thought it was at the time.  None-the-less, she came back at some point with a cup of ice a little flat popsicle stick to eat it with.

Then all of a sudden I was in a new room with a TV, and Little House on the Prairie was on.  Mr. Edwards was singing about a frying pan and brushing his teeth with a wagon wheel.  That was a very irritating way to wake up.  And then minutes later Geoff the Great was shown in and he asked me, “Uhhhh, are you watching that or can I put on FOX news?”  Which was sort of funny but I think I got offended.

And then a new nurse came in.  I think.  And I sat up a bit and GREAT JEHOSAPHAT, I felt like somebody harpooned me straight thru the side.  YEEEOUCH.  I asked the nurse if it was supposed to hurt that bad, and she told me, yes, in my case, it would.  But then she told me she’d get something for the pain, and at that point I was hoping to see my little buddy Igor again.  That guy and his magical needle was starting to grow on me.  But nope, she just came back with a big white horse pill.  

Then Geoff the Great said that the doctor told him that they put me on the machine and ended up cranking it to the highest possible level and my bowling ball refused to crack.  I’m sorta proud of the little fella.  The dr. said they gave it all they got but he didn’t think he was able to break it up enough. The rock was too hard.  SO, not only will I have some ‘minor discomfort’ (minor. Ha), but he said I will have to come back soon and undergo the exceedingly horrifically unthinkably unpleasant option number 2.

Plus, as a bonus, soon after being wheeled into the Little House on the Prairie room, I realized that I had lost an important body function vital for survival.  Alarming.  The nurse was able to help (and I use the term ‘help’ loosely) by use of a long tube and a pouch.  Ok…  GROSS and YEEEOUCH.  They said I would have to stay until my body started working again, but nope, my rebellious body refused to corporate.  But it was not practical for me to spend the night, so they ended up reluctantly giving me and Geoff and quick EMT lesson and sending us home with that diabolical tube and pouch “to use if needed”.  They told me to either do that or go into the Emergency Room if my body still wouldn’t to what it was told.  

I’m happy to report, as of this morning, my body has begrudgingly begun to cooperate again.  We had stopped at a health food store on the way home yesterday and I was able to remember a concoction that my sister once used to cure me of kidney / bladder issues and it seems to be doing the trick again.

So there you have it.  More info than you wanted or needed.  It will be fun to read this tomorrow because I’m writing this shortly after my breakfast of hot tea and a big hearty bowl of Vicodin Flakes.   And I don’t know when I’m supposed to go in for option number 2.  

I am very tired. The End.

35 thoughts on “My Blasted Kidney Stone Report

  1. Mama mia!

    What an ordeal! I was thinking how fun it would be to be the center of attention like that (I don't look half bad in purple), but then it occured to me that if they don't give you ice, what's the chances of them giving me a large Cappuccino Heath Blizzard? In that case, I'd be less interested.

    Sorry about your stubborn incredible hulk-of-a-stone! In the spirit, I'm putting my stubby little hand on your greasy head and asking God to spare you option 2, if He would be so kind. Rest well, Alice.

  2. Vicodin Flakes

    The breakfast of champions!

    Oh, dearest Jen, I did not know! I am so sorry you had to undergo this. Hugs and rest and peace to you.

    Much love!!

    Kate

  3. just a wonderin

    when the movie version is coming out.

    you are the best writer ever.

    I seem to only say what I really mean in e-mail and not on my blogetty blog, blah, blob.

    oh well.

    glad to hear you made it home.

    now go shower.

  4. Untitled Comment

    Me like white horse size happy pills.

    Me like them A LOT. I can totally see how people can be addicted to those things… so they scare me and I have only used them after giving birth. Because that hurts. But you already know that.

    Well, I'm sorry your bowling ball didn't cooperate. Maybe if you yelled at it some more and didn't speak so lovingly and fondly to it, it would be willing to cut the old apron strings and go along it's merry own way.

    I'm glad to hear your body is cooperating! And this is a nice excuse for all your kids and kidlets to spoil you rotten and treat you like the Queen that you are!

    Feel better soon, your royal highness!

    Love,

    Marsha

    PS You are surprisingly coherent when in a drug and pain induced state. Maybe now is the time to crank out that novel you've always wanted to write?

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    So glad you're home and recovering! I kept praying for you yesterday. I'm panic stricken also whenever I have to go to the Dr. (In fact my pulse shoots up to over 120 when I go…so even though I try to act 'cool' while I'm there, he knows better!)

    Take care!

    Mrs. M.

  6. Oh Jen!

    How afull for you!!! Naughty bowling ball!! Good Ivor! LOL! I would personally be thrilled to wake up to Little House on the Prairie and Mr Edwards singing. I loved that song when I was a kid and went around singing it regularly when I wasn't humming the theme song (because of course that song doesn't have any words) :o)

    Praying that unthinkable option two is actually more pleasant in the end and is taken care of soon! You never know, Ivor may be there to help again! Hehehe!(((HUGS)))

  7. hi

    Oh my, I will be praying for you, hope for a speedy recovery. I, like you hate the whole hospital thing, I would do just about anything to avoid it at ALL costs. I have a broken ankle and I had to go the ER the night it happened. I was in so much pain-they could have cared less, no personality, no compassion, no NOTHING! Its really scary that our medical community has become that, another case of Christian values leaving our professions and our country-it makes me so sad and scary that if a real tragic event happened we would be in trouble in those hospitals-just like they were during Hurricane Katrina in those hospitals, I truly didn't mean to get off on a soap box here but I did, didn't I? Sorry. Will be praying!

    Angela

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    I'm just glad you're home.. I am *so* sorry you had to go through all of this! and the fact that you have to go BACK makes me want to cry. I'm glad Geoff was there with you… I love you! Get some rest and feel better! We're praying for you.

  9. Bless your heart!

    Oh my goodness. You have been through so much. Please let me know what I can do? Can I go through the 2nd one for you? I know we don't look anything alike, but maybe all those crazy people won't notice. I am so sorry for you. I guess we need to be doing more praying for you. I am afraid I didn't really pray enough before yesterday. I know how great those pain meds are. I have takin quite a few in my past and Ryan thinks I am a lot more pleasant when I am under the influence of hydrocodeine (sp?). He could tell me the house had burned down because he tried to build a bon-fire in the living room and my only reply would be, "it's okay, we'll get a new one." Get plenty of rest, rest, rest and PLEASE, let me know if I can do anything?

    Love,

    Megan Reed

    rprmsr@hotmail.com

    reedsoftn.blogspot.com

  10. Untitled Comment

    I'm so thankful your surgery ended safely, even though not with the desired results. I had to have a kidney stone removed after my 3rd pregnancy, and it wasn't so bad (the surgery, I mean-the stone was bad). Last summer, I had different surgery. While I was still in recovery, my friend came in with her 4 little ones, and those precious children hugged me, even in my senseless, frightening-looking state. I love those kids! It's so funny the things you say when you're on goofy meds. I usually talk way too much about embarrassing things. God bless you!

  11. Untitled Comment

    Man o MAN oh MANNNN! What an experience. Complete w/ a Mr. Edwards reference, Igor, an Olympic nurse and Vicodin.

    what a trip. 🙂 Sorry about the dreaded option #2. Just keep that man's hand on your head. 🙂 you'll be fine.

    emily

    thelearningneverstops.blogspot.com

  12. Wow…

    Those vicodin flakes do a number for your writing – WOW. Save some for me so I can try them while we're there! Please know Jess and I are praying for your speedy recovery, whether or not #2 is needed. Hopefully you can have this all behind you before FL and us terrorizing your placid little ranch.

    Tell the rug rats to gently pamper you…Or they'll have to face the wrath of Unca C!!!

  13. I'm so sorry

    Jennifer,

    Oh, I am so sorry for your whole experience, although the way you tell it is extremely funny. I have had more than my share of medical procedures, surgeries, drugs, etc. and can completely sympathize. I came to love my Igor with his needles and drugs that made me not care before surgeries because I would feel all panicky inside every time. Drugged bliss is preferable. Let us know when option 2 comes around. I pray that it will be the end of that stone for you.

    Jo

  14. Untitled Comment

    That was hilarious, and I cringed the whole time. I hate doctors and dentists and anything institutional where they'll poke at me and dredge up scary problems I didn't know I had. You poor thing. I've been praying for you! I'll keep it up.

    Rachel

    http://rachelstarrthomson.blogspot.com

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    Oh bless your heart! I'm sorry about all your "discomfort" but really, thank God for Igor! Enjoy your vicodin flakes. Hope you feel better soon!

  16. Untitled Comment

    ps. That was me. Sorry I keep forgetting to sign it.

    Karen (bensrib)

  17. Blogging on Drugs

    I think you should ALWAYS take drugs before blogging. Or anytime really…you've been exceptionally goofy, but your sudden want for large quantities of wonton soup gives me fear.

  18. Untitled Comment

    Oh yeah, and I wanted to know if I could borrow some of your vicodin flakes, because I'm about to blog.

    And dad may have put his hand on your head, but I held your hand for like 5 minutes before you dozed off into a funky dream land.

  19. Untitled Comment

    Aww Jen,

    I'm sorry to hear of your unpleasant surgical experience. 🙁

    (I just went through the exact same thing with my 5 yr old today…only they gave her water AND juice as soon as she woke up…they actually encouraged me to get her to drink something!?!)

    I pray that the Lord works a miracle for you, and that your stone disolves/passes in the most pain-free way possible.

    God Bless,

    MIchelle

  20. YIKES!!

    Exactly the reason I avoid the "H" word at ALL COST!!

    I had to go in after a m/c 2 years ago– and I know the feeling you had– it is ERRIEE– YUCK

    Okay—mental note–No HOSPTIAL for Stones!!

    So glad you are recovering (quickly-I hope)

  21. Praying that Option 2 isn't necessary!!!

    Oh Jen – (((hugs))) and prayers for you!!!! But you have such a way of telling a story that even as I'm feeling so bad for you, I am laughing out loud. Enjoy your breakfast and feel better soon!

    Blessings,

    Kym

  22. How awful

    So sorry about your new friend the kidney stone. I'm also sorry you'll have to partake of Option 2, whatever that is. Doesn't sound pleasant, though. I hope this won't keep you from visiting all of us Floridians next weekend at the FPEA convention! You could use a weekend in sunny Florida. 🙂

  23. Untitled Comment

    I'm the one that came up with the name UT Blasting Zone and you used it without giving me any credit!

    But that's ok, make sure you point everyone to this comment and let everyone know in the next 34 entries that you stole my title. Then you're good. (Funny that I can say this knowing that you can't punch me)

    Can I go with you next time to the UT B/Z HPTL and STY at the BTCHRS HWS or SMTHNG? Surely they'll have left over ice cream from the S/G next week…

  24. Untitled Comment

    Okay…there is no way that you could possibly read this post of yours because I have had enough medical proceedures done to my insides to know that "laughing" is about the worst thing you can do after such an ordeal (aside from a child jumping on you in the night or kicking you or running into you at top speed). And that was just about the funnies post I've ever read!

    Really, I pray for you each morning and I am so sorry for your pain. When I am down and hurting, it always causes me to dwell on the Lord, think of all He did for me, and meditate on His Word. He is so good and gives so much grace for whatever comes our way.

    love,

    Jaynee

  25. Untitled Comment

    a;sdkjf;asdjf;sldkjf;asjdf;fjds;fj;jasjfks;sdlkjf;sdkj

    Oh my goodness… I agree with Coie… you ARE extremely funny, and while I'm so sorry that you had to endure such pain, I have to thank you for making me laugh so hard tonight!

    However, I DO think you should change your blog name to something more real like "Fantastical Fruitcake".

    Love ya,

    Nutpickle

  26. Untitled Comment

    I have that dream, but it's only a dream, where my beloved prays for me with his hand on my head and even reads the actual Bible that way too… You are blessed even with rocks in your.. eh.. parts.

    Denise

  27. Oh, Jen,

    My husband's experiences with the KS Blaster was not nearly as fun as yours was. From my perspective, of course.

    I hope you are doing well dear one.

    Nancy

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