Coming home from work Saturday morning, I was feeling queasy and a bit achy. Nothing new after a week of work. I was lying on the sofa with the puglets when the first rippling pains shot down my right side.
To preface, I've had more stones that I can count on one hand, and probably two, but I really quit counting after six or seven. I'd known something was coming up because of the on and off bloody urination the past two weeks, but I'd had no fever, and being old hat at this knew the routine. They don't do anything until the stone starts moving. Even if you're lucky enough to beg a CT scan or IVP outta the docs, it's "wait and see until it moves"
I called my momma and woke her up.
Me:It's the right side. It's starting
Mom:RIGHT SIDE? It's almost always the left? And don't they start when you wake up? Didn't you just get home from work?
Me:I guess they got bored?
Called M and told her it was starting so she could meet me at the ER later. Got dressed, hopped in a gypsy cab, and off to the nearest ER. Triage is always lovely.
Nurse: Could you get in the chair, please?
N: could you at least stop lying on the floor so I can get your blood pressure?
N: So, why are you here today
M: ( squatting now, head between my legs) kidney stone
N: You've had them before?
M: Uh, yes. Ow. OOOOOOWWWWWWWWW. I'm sorry I just puked on the floor.
N: No problem. How many have you had?
M: More than 6, less than 12, I think?
I get situated into an ER bed. A Med student comes to take my history. Yes, I have x,y,and z. Yes, I'm sure it's a stone. No, I can't take Toradol because I have inflammatory bowel disease. Yes, I LOVES me some dilaudid.
I get two doses of IV morphine, plus Regulan so I stop throwing up on fellow patients, and oral percocet. Urine shows massive blood ( well, no DUH) and blood tests show elevated white cells. No sign of a kidney infection though, which is good. They decided not to do a CT scan, because they are stupid. Never mind I've formed ones big enough to do surgery on before. No, I get to wait two weeks for a follow up with a nephrologist. In the meantime> go home. Come back if the oral Vicodin isn't cutting it.
I start to cry. The doc asks why. I say because I'm a wee bit stressed. He gives me some IV Attavan. Now I am stoned and remarkably calm.
M comes to pick me up and my upper legs don't want to move. It's kind of fun. My voice has deepened three octaves from the drugs and I sound like a manly man. We got to the pharmacy to pick up my Vicodin. The pharmacist says she's swamped and to come back in a few hours. I start sobbing, big boogery sobs. M is about to yell but I stop her. It's ok. I just can't deal with much. And I am stoned silly. I think the Attavan is wearing off.
The pharmacist takes pity on me and quickly fills my meds. I am very happy now, mostly. M walks the pugs for me and we watch Americas next Top Model, which I've TIVO'd. It's hilarious, especially on morphine.
I spend the rest of Saturday and Sunday perpetually drugged, while the stone moves in blessedly short bursts. Today I made an appointment with the pee doctor. I'm not expecting much. I had a full workup for all my itis's at the Mayo Clinic when I was 21 and take many meds, one of which keeps me from having a stone every 6 months and now stretches it to every 2-4 years. I do want that damn CT scan. I have a feeling the stone is just resting and it has evil cohorts up there somewhere.
Drugs are funny. They've caused me to wash 7 sets of sheets, bathe the puglets, and dye my hair.
I called work today and told them I'd be in tomorrow, but this week would be touch and go depending on what the stone is up to. Honestly, I'm so beaten down and sad right now I never want to go back to work. I want to move into my parents basement, sit on my butt and collect the disability I've been entitled to since I was 18.