The Kidney Stone

So I still have a kidney stone.

Womp womp.

I almost made it all the way home pain-free until I didn’t.  The last hour of the second flight, I was dying.  

Well, not literally.  Obviously.  I’m still alive.  Hello there.

I did make it home (late) where I had left over pain pills from my bone graft surgery so that helped me sleep . . . a little.  And when I woke up, I knew there was no way in the world that I could wait until Wednesday for an appointment.

I went to the doctor first thing the next morning and guess what?

Well, first off, there were no prisoners there!  So that was a bonus.  But he came to the same conclusion.  I have a kidney stone.

He gave me two shots.  He said they would hurt.

I was all Are you kidding me?  You can hit me over the head with a brick for all I care right now, just put me out of my misery!  A shot?  A shot?!  SHOOT ME!  GIVE IT TO ME!  I’LL DO IT MYSELF!  DO IT ALREADY!  WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?  I SAID SHOOT!!!  This is a different reaction to the Jamaican doctor giving me a shot which goes to show you that a kidney stone is different from a urinary tract infection.


One of the shots was for pain (Thank the Good Lord) and the other was an antibiotic.  And then I got two prescriptions.  One is STILL not available.  Apparently no pharmacy within a 100 mile radius has it and so I’ve come to the conclusion that it is exactly what I need and the end-all-be-all cure that is alluding me and it is DRIVING ME CRAZY.  The pharmacist told me that it would be $30 for only seven little pills! and acted like that was too expensive and wanted to know was I sure I wanted to pay $30 for only seven little pills?


I’m not sure what happened next, but I think it involved me emptying my purse and throwing all of my credit cards at her and telling her I would pay whatever the cost or here’s an even better idea . . . just take my kidney!

I’m not in any pain any longer (thank the Good Lord), but I am spending the majority of my days and nights in the bathroom. 

While I was with the doctor, he asked which hospital I visited in New York because he studied there.  When I told him, he started laughing.

Laughing.

This was BEFORE I got the shots.

Which means I was not laughing along.  Which shows you how much pain I was in because if someone laughs, I want to laugh too, what are you laughing about, what’s so funny, hahahaha, I don’t know why I’m laughing, but this is contagious, that’s hilarious, oh my side hurts.

But I did not laugh along.

The doc said that the hospital I went to in NYC is where they filmed One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  Which is about crazy people.  

Apparently, it’s a psychiatric hospital.  I went to a psychiatric hospital.

This might explain the poor girl who lost her shoe.  Maybe she didn’t lose her shoe?  She just lost her mind?  

So . . . 

You know all those times that I’ve joked that I’m a Looney Tune Whackadoodle and just this.close to being committed?

Yep.

It happened.