If I could imagine what purgatory is like, I think it would look something like this picture. What’s funny about this photo is that I have no recollection of taking it. I recall throwing my little instant camera in the bag, but that’s where it ends. Yesterday was a long day. After a couple nights of excruciating pain and an ultra sound that seemed to give the all clear signal, I was sure I had passed this kidney stone. My doctor had raised her eyebrows showing clearly that she had heard this type of hogwash before. So she called me in to the hospital anyway. I sat in the pre-op area for many hours, as I was an add-on to the schedule. As boring as the time may seem there is much to be witnessed. While your stuck in your little cubicle, the hospital buzzes loudly with signs of diversity among the beeps of its vital machines. While only a curtain separated many of us, I heard medical histories that sounded like long criminal rap sheets. One lady was on her 16th surgery; allergic to everything except talking, which she did plenty of with no adverse affects. Around midday, a raspy voiced patient was wheeled in. It took the poor pre-op nurse an hour to get the guy to admit that he had done crack the evening before. I believe it’s true when Chris tells me that all corners of society come through the hospital. This is also true of Walmart and most county fairs in my opinion. But here I was, hoping for a small miracle that the stone had passed. I lay on a gurney waiting my time wondering when this would end. It is a strange feeling being wheeled on a stretcher. Endless doors are passed and the nurses and anesthesiologist make small talk to calm your nerves as you travel the halls of purgatory. Soon enough, you burst through some double doors ready to meet your maker. Rather than seeing God, you see your surgeon who may as well be God for the next hour or so. The first instinct is to bolt as the surgeon smiles down upon you. I look helplessly around for my anesthesiologist husband, who has a knack for making lurid jokes during perilous times like this. I find relief as I see Chris and his good friend ready to take their call of duty. They would be the final things I see before waking up to the view from this photo. So like a new haircut, can you notice anything different about me? I have 7mm less mass in my body. I would also like to make it clear to all kidney stones out there that your not welcome anymore. Life is too much fun and it should be about skipping stones, not passing them.
5 Comments
Jean
8/10/2011 08:22:33 am
Love the pic and the story. Hope you are feeling better soon. Would you like Peter to spend a couple of hours here tomorrow?
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Linda
8/10/2011 12:06:04 pm
What a story. You are quite the story teller. Thanks for sharing your story.
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Jen
8/10/2011 01:25:44 pm
Thanks Jean and Linda. although going through stones before, this one has been eye opening. from now on if you see me without a water bottle in my hand, be sure to give me a good smack!
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Daniela Kowal
8/11/2011 09:59:43 pm
Jen, loved this entry. Hope you are feeling better, and I am thinking of you. You are so right, you do have all walks of life walking thru those hospital doors. I have heard from people that kidney stones are more painful than giving birth. Let me know your perspective on that! ;) Keep smiling.
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8/15/2011 11:40:36 am
Hi Jen,
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