Killer Kidney Stone

The day is blue. The kind of blue day that makes you want to tear off your clothes and skip down the street. The blue that insists you need to feel the sun beating down on every inch of your skin. I can hear the birds singing outside my window. This is a sound that has been known to irritate the hell out of me. But not today, today the sound is glorious and I open my window to hear their songs more clearly.


I grab my clothes as quickly as possible and rush into the bathroom. Today I’m going to have a picnic, throw a Frisbee and watch my dog chase her shadow. I’m looking forward to enjoying the long lost feeling of summertime.

As I reach for my toothbrush I feel a twinge of pain in my side. I’ve felt this pain a few times lately and I’m sure it’s due to my exercise routine. I’ve started focusing on my martial arts lately. I’m pretty sure I’ve done too much. Gotta pay closer attention to that in the future. Not cool to kill yourself while trying to be healthy.

It’s eight o’clock by the time I finish with my morning routine. I head down the stairs. There’s a bounce in my step. It isn’t until the bottom one that I feel the pain again, a little more insistent this time. My husband is in the kitchen making a picnic lunch and I see he is smiling. It occurs to me that maybe I’m a little constipated. These things do happen; I’m feeling a little unwanted pressure.

Oh well, I tell myself, I’ll take my vitamins, drink a bunch of water and the situation will correct itself. I am sure nothing bad can happen on such a sapphire day. Hustle and bustle, we rush around getting everything we need to have a spectacular time. Our bare feet will soon be running through the damp green of the lush emerald grass.

My stomach muscles are starting to clench a little. I’m starting to become concerned that I’ll need a bathroom soon and they don’t have great facilities in the park.

My concerns turn out to be well founded, as I stand staring at the metal bowl cemented into the concrete floor. I brace myself against the wall of the stall, press with my palms to keep me steady and I focus on the job at hand. I quickly realize it’s my bladder that is causing some discomfort. As it lets go, I expect to hear a rush of water.

It was much more like a dripping of a water faucet after you’ve shut it off.

To my dismay this caused no real relief.

Yank up my pants and walk out of the bathroom as my mind whirls with the possibility that my need to go to the bathroom is going to ruin my super cool, pretty blue day. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I would go home, take care of the problem and be back in about twenty minutes. I just needed some privacy and a solid porcelain balancing area.

All would be right with the world soon. I told my husband my plan to run home. He agreed to hang out and play with the dog while I took care of business. Although the prospect of fixing a bowel problem is always distasteful, a very private issue, I will say, it was quick and the least painful part of my day. I’ll leave it at that.

Listening to music, trying to relax, I lie on the floor staring at the ceiling. Okay, I have discovered it is not a problem with my bowels. The pain is getting worse. My lower back is starting to hurt and my lower right side is starting to burn. I can’t decide what to do. Ambivalent I decide, I am going to go to the park and try to ignore it for a while. Maybe its gas caught way up in my intestine and with exercise it will move and I’ll be better. I may not have mentioned it, but sometimes I have an amazing ability to really believe I know more than I actually do.

I stand up with purpose and proceed down the hall. My legs begin to buckle as I realize there must be an intruder in the house and he had just stabbed me with a very long knife in my right kidney. I look down at my stomach in shock expecting to see the point of the hideous weapon that has caused this spectacular pain. There is nothing. I turn my head and look down the hall behind me. I’m alone. Somehow the monster with the knife has disappeared, because that is the only explanation.

I grab the banister. As quickly as I can, I move down the stairs, away from my perceived intruder, toward the front door. My mouth is getting dry, but I don’t want anything to drink. I’m suddenly tired, but I can’t imagine resting. I want a solution to the rapid onset of pain. I want it now! I stop and try to think.

What’s wrong, what’s wrong? Ok, right side pain, back pain, maybe appendicitis. Maybe I have some sort of blockage.

Then suddenly, I feel like the biggest pussy around. It’s just a little pain. Why am I freaking out? I’ve been through so much, this is no big deal. I’m only so upset because I wanted to play and now I’ll have to sit down and rest a while.

I’m fine, I tell myself. I grab my phone and dial my husband.

I’m going to tell him I’ll be back in a few minutes and ask him if he needs anything. The pounding in my gut is starting to twist a little and when he answers I hear myself gasp, my mouth opens and I say “Hey” I’m trying to sound cheerful and I’m failing. “Can you take me to the doctor? I think I’m in trouble here”

“Oh god, of course.” I can hear panic in his voice and I feel terrible. “I’ll pack up now, Can you drive?” He asks

“Yeah” I say, although I’m not really sure of anything anymore.

Getting back to the park became an exercise in living in the moment. First, get to the front door. Then, stand still long enough to slip the key in the lock. Pain is starting to move in a widening circular pattern and I feel something tearing just to the right of my spine.

I wonder if something has broken open inside me. I lean in closer to the lock and turn the key. The doors locked. Good.

Now get to the car. Its close, as I walk I think, I need to sit. I need to sit. But I don’t, because I know, if I sit I won’t get to the car and if I don’t get to the car I will never feel better. I will sit on the cement, the pain will wrap around me and I’ll never get to the car. So I walk and somehow I arrive. I slide into the seat and it’s an amazing accomplishment.

My legs are starting to shake. I suck in a breath saying aloud. “Suck it up!!! You can do this! It’s only two blocks.” Yelling at myself seems to help.

I sit up straighter, remembering to keep breathing, I maneuver the car out of my driveway and the two blocks the park.

I hear my breathing as the intruder that was hiding in my house continues to stab me in the back; he twists the knife as I drive. I tell him to kiss my ass and I keep driving. When I pull into the parking lot, I see my husband walking toward me. He has all of our things wrapped in a sheet and he’s moving across the field with our cute, fluffy puppy, bounding after him.

I feel a mourning sadness for our lost day. I step from the car prepared to go help him. My feet touch the concrete and I suddenly feel as if I weigh seven hundred pounds and my legs cannot hold me up. My lower back is snapping in half and a mining crew has set up shop in my stomach wall.

I mange a few steps before I kneel on the ground. I stare at him coming toward me. I focus on him, on the fact that I will feel better again. I won’t always be in this much pain. Someone soon will do something to make this go away.

We approach the entrance of the emergency room, the car rolls to a stop. I push open the door and fall from the car. Somehow, against all odds I land on my feet and stumble through the doors, just as they slide open. I focus on the tiny desk and the young man’s face through the opening. He sees me coming.

He asks, “Can I help you?” I make a noise and say something about pain. I watch in amazement as he slides a small white piece of paper at me, with lines and words on it. I’m looking at the words wondering what he would think if, while I’m trying to read that paper my guts fall onto the floor. Would he still insist I read and sign it? I think about telling him I can’t read. Instead I mumble something about someone being with me and resorted to begging, “Please help?”
I watch as a wheelchair moves toward me. I think that maybe sitting down isn’t such a great thing, but since standing up isn’t so great, I sit.
My legs begin to shake and my grip on the arm of the chair tightens. I watch as my hand begins jerking back and forth in a spasm of pain. The miners have moved into my back and instead of using picks, they have begun pushing knife covered bowling balls through my intestines and one of those little fuckers is whittling away at my spine closest to my tail bone.
My rational brain has moved away and I have become solely dependent on the part of myself that needs to survive. I’ve forgotten that I have pride. My sense of self is now encompassed in a shiny red ball of glowing, grinding hurt; it’s the biggest thing, the only thing. Questions are asked and answered. Where does it hurt? Is the pain sudden? How long? When was my last period?
Yes, they’re asking me about my period. Then they are asking other questions that seem equally ridiculous.
I just want to scream, I hear myself start to cry, I can’t believe it. Pain, physical pain, is making me weep like a baby. I look over and my husband and he is pale and he seems as shocked as I am. I wonder briefly if this is maybe harder for him, because he loves me so much and he’s so helpless. My guts are twisted into a new version of torture and I forget how to breathe. I feel tears running down my face and I realize I am wrong. This is not harder for him.
I yell “Mother fucker!” Turrets is a condition you sometimes acquire with extreme pain. I had heard about it. This is my first experience with the syndrome. I do however; begin to realize I am not holding up very well, so I start to talk to myself.
I think I am saying these things in silence in the hollows of my head. I hear myself saying, “I can handle this, I can handle this. Breath, breath,” I chant the words. I focus on them; they’re real to me. I tell myself I’m disappointed in me. I’m being a baby. I tell myself to stop crying. My breath is coming to fast and I’m going to throw up. I’m going to lose it. I think, have I had anything to drink? I can’t remember. My lips feel dry, for some reason I ask for a drink. I see the doctor shake his head. I think that’s good because if he had said yes I would have had to drink. I think I’m going to throw up. Why do I want a drink?
A doctor is coming toward me with a big needle. That needle looks so good and I want to kiss him. I know that would slow up the process, so I don’t try. I just hold up my arm and I say, “I can’t stop shaking” I hear the trembling of my voice. He says that’s ok I’ve done this in a moving cab. I think ‘so what! I don’t care about that, just slide that needle into my arm and make this better!
He does… I don’t even feel the needle. I don’t know if he’s good at his job or I’m in too much pain to know the difference. I can see that he’s trying to make things better, so I love him.
A nurse is next to me now, they are all talking about painkillers and I’m nodding my head. My back is bursting open. I know if I reach back it will be gaping and bloody. My vaginal wall is burning and my lower abs have turned to burning chains pulling against each other in a satanic tug of war.
The nurse is a gentle woman with huge eyes that are very blue. I think maybe I can focus on her blue eyes. I think about my lost blue day and I start to cry. She tells me she has to give me the medication slow to protect my kidneys. I try to smile through my tears, because I know she’s trying to help. I think I want her to be ok, because I’m not ok, and if she’s ok then she can make me ok.

My hands are tingling now, my legs bend and my feet press down on the bed. My body is shaking. I think maybe im being a little over dramatic. I must be imagining this pain, because this just isn’t possible. I shake my head and say. ”I’m ok” I want so bad to believe it.
She asks, “From one to ten, where’s your pain?”
My husband answers for me saying “ten”
I quickly correct him muttering “Eight maybe nine” I’m trying to be tough. As soon as the words leave my lips, I really do feel a little better, but not enough. Eight seems right now, but a really strong eight.
From here things begin to blur. This day has taken its toll and I’ve decided to leave. I hope I feel better soon. But, I can’t stay to find out. Things are too…