Rob's worst weekend evah!

rob · Tue Jul 27, 2010 1:24 pm

Yes, this was even worse than the time I went to Baltimore and hung out with Rich. I know what you're thinking, and I never thought anything would top that that, but I have been proven wrong.

So Saturday I wake up and start my morning routine. Brush my teeth, comb my hair, all that jazz. As I'm taking a leak I suddenly feel like my torso is totally cramping up. Like when you squeeze a soda can in the middle? Yeah, it felt like that. A few minutes later it passes, but I still have a vague pain in my side and a slight bit of nausea. I go through the rest of the morning feeling like that. Sometimes the cramping comes back, but not as bad as it was originally. I'm thinking maybe some food poisoning since I ate at the stir fry place in the mall before watching Inception (great movie, btw) and saw them dump an unrefidgerated bucket of chicken onto the grill. I'm sure it was covered in some kind of sauce, but it looked all slimy and nasty, so it naturally led to thoughts of bad chicken causing my problems.

My wife comes home for lunch and even though I'm not really hungry, I ate a little bit of lunch and mostly just try not to move aroud too much. About a half hour after she leaves I get the crushed soda can feeling again. My back, my left side and my lower abdomin are in aboslute agony. The pain constricts and then releases slightly only to restrict again. This goes on for about 6 months as near as I can tell. Sure, the clock said 5 minutes, but I'm pretty sure it was wrong.

I find that walking helps a tiny bit, at least until another wave hits and I collapse on the floor in agony. I try laying on the bed, but there's no way I can lay that is the slightest bit comfortable. This is, without a doubt, the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. And this is coming from a dude that once tried to leapfrog one of those contrete barriers in front of stores so you don't crash into them, and my hands slipped. Worse than that.

Another couple of years pass as I'm writhing around trying to think of anything that could ease the pain just a little. I'm alternating between being freezing cold and burning hot. I'm sweating like crazy, which just makes the cold phases that much worse. I'm even bargaining with a god I don't believe in, that if he/she/it exists and can make this stop I'll publically renounce my heathen ways. To be fair, I also threaten my stomach that if it doesn't stop this shit right the fuck now I'll get a grapefruit spoon and teach it a serious fucking lesson. I figure that would work just as much as my plea to god, but I wanted to make sure I've covered all the bases.

According to the clock, 45 minutes have passed and they were the longest and worst 45 minutes of my life and each one was worse than the last. I finally realize I'm well and truly fucked, so I call my wife at work and somehow she manages to get from my moans that she'd better get home and get me some help, which she does. Oddly, about 30 seconds before she comes in the door, the pain stops and I'm able to lay in a heap, happier than I've ever been in my life that the pain has stopped.

The buzzkill that she is, the wife insists I go to the hospital anyway. I'd rather not, since I'm terrified that moving will just remind my body that it isn't done torturing me just yet. But more than that, I'm terrified that it'll remember anyway and at least if I'm at the hospital I might be able to convince one of the doctors to induce a coma if the pain comes back.

In the car, the pain does indeed come back. Luckily for me, every slow ass moronic driver decided to get in front of us. At the same time, the city of Orlando apparently decided to try out some traffic lights that can tell if a silver Saturn Vue is coming and immediately turn the lights red. This becomes a very long 20 minute car ride. At every intersection I hope a car will plow into my side of the vehicle, leaving my wife unharmed while knocking me the fuck out. Sadly, it doesn't happen.

We finally arrive at the hospital, the wife drops me off at the Emergency Room and goes to park the car. To the hospital's credit, they get me into a little room very quickly, before my wife has even finished parking the car. By the time she finds me, I'm already undressed and wearing the gown and laying down on the hospital bed, freezing cold but feeling better.

At this point, I know what the problem is, but I won't admit it to myself because it is one of the two things in life I am legitimately of. To give you an idea, I was actually hoping it was my appendix and they'd have to perform emergency surgery to remove it before it burst rather than what it ended up being. Because with that, they could knock me out. With what it was, I just had to wait and suffer.

Ok, so here are my two fears in life. The first, catheters. Never had one, never want one. I understand you're normally knocked out when they go in, but the removal is a bitch. I've also heard from a friend with one that erections are really no fun with one and it isn't like you can really control those.

But my second fear, and probably the stronger one... kidney stones. I've always heard they're the worst pain a man can experience, the only thing a male can suffer that is comparable to child birth. I'm here to tell you that I have no idea about that last bit, but it is indeed the worst pain I can imagine ever suffering since that was indeed what was wrong with me. This is the kind of thing where people say "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy", but that's stupid. That's exactly the sort of thing I'd wish on my worst enemy because it is so goddamned awful.

After a CT scan (during which I laughed and told the technician that it was the worst theme park ride I'd ever been on, in Orlando we expect something a wee bit better (he didn't laugh)), the doctor confirmed my worst fear. He did say I was lucky in that the stone was small, only 2mm, and it was very near the bladder, at which point I'd be home free. Yes, I felt like a lucky, lucky man.

For those that don't know, kidney stones are small rocks or crystals that form in the kidneys and travel out the body through urine. Actually, most of us pass them all the time, they're just so small we never notice. The problem is when they get a bit bigger before leaving the kidney. It turns out the tube that goes from the kindey to the bladder (the ureter) is very, very small and filled with nerves. It also acts like the bowels do and constricts itself to move the urine along. That means if you've got a stone, this jagged rock is stabbing at this tube full of nerve endings. This agitation causes the tube to squeeze tighter, causing the stone to stab harder. It is nature's most viscious cycle.

As I'm still in agony every 15 minutes or so, they give me some pain meds. The meds, much like the goggles, do nothing. More agony and gnashing of teeth and they give me some morphine. Do you know what morphine does in the face of kidney stones?

Nothing.

The worst part is that you think maybe it is helping since you're not in pain. The morphine dulls your mind just enough to make you forget that the pain comes and goes, so while it is gone, you think things must be fine. Then it comes back and you've forgotten how bad it can be.

The nurse witnesses this and sees that I'm in more pain than before, so she gets the doctor. Of course, by the time he's back, I'm in a lull state. Regardless, he believes the nurses isn't making up stories and gives me some other pain kill, which I'm told is the strongest stuff they've got, better than morphine. It barely makes a dent in the pain.

I have to say at this point, I'm so very grateful that I have insurance. I don't even want to imagine how much this would have cost me, which the ER visit, all the drugs they gave me, the CT scan and everything else. Luckily, with my insurance I just had a $75 copay. But without it... It is stupid shit like this can just comes out of nowhere, not even all that serious, that could totally fuck someone up financially without insurance.

I'm prescribed a couple of different pain killers (including Percocet, aka oxycodone) and something called FlowMax, which is supposed to keep the ureter from dilating. I'm wondering why they didn't give me that in the hospital to start with, the bastards. They tell me to just keep the Percocet coming until I'm sure the pain is over and I take that advice.

I spent all day Sunday making sure I take my pills and peeing through a strainer. A few more spasms, but not nearly as bad as Saturday. I sleep when I can since I didn't sleep at all Saturday night. Every 30 minutes or so I'd be woken up by a new burst of pain. Sunday night I manage to sleep the whole night through, which was glorious. Monday was actually a pretty decent day. Minimum pain and the stone actually passed. Actually, it had broken up into several tiny pieces and true to the doctor's word, I didn't notice when they came out. Now I have to go see a urologist with the pieces later this week and find out how to hopefully never have this happen again.

And that was how I spent the worst weekend of my entire life.

Rob's worst weekend evah!

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