Today was hot. I sweat. When I sweat, usually what happens is that a kidney stone tucked away in the kidney bank becomes dislodged and wends its way down the tiny tiny tubes that are a size 0. My kidney stones are usually size 12. This pain equals that associated with childbirth, with the end result a M & M shaped disc as big as a cupcake sprinkle but less tasty. My first one was in my thirties, the second was two years ago, and it feels like a third is thinking about traveling south. Fingers crossed, please.
Guy Alert: Female Emotional Stuff and Maybe Girl Bits Ahead. My son and then husband were camping, all of us had just got back from family tent camping in Florida in July. It was beautiful at Fort DeSoto Park, and raccoons jumped into our car as we unpacked. They were smaller and much skinnier than the at home raccoons which can jack your car as they grab marshmallows off the toasting stick and give you the finger. Big, like retrievers, the northern raccoons. These little ones hopped through the trunk and efficiently dug through our packed boxes of food; we knew something was in the backseat, but what? Ha ha, aren't they cute. Now scoot, you little buggers. Ha ha.
Red ibis and white egrets lounged through the warm water of the Gulf, hibiscus big as dinner plates burst open by our tent and drew butterflies artfully daubed by Matisse. We watched dolphins at breakfast from inside a screened-in awning we put up so bitey bugs couldn't reach us. We left for the day, a trip down to Venice Beach where the sand is black from the fossilized deposits of shark teeth, which are in abundance throughout the beach. It is a child's dream fantasy, at least it was Brian's, who was a ten year old shark expert at the time. His face lit up beatifically at the first scoop of sand and teeth, and I thought he might shoot straight to the clouds, his eyes were glowing that much. Can you guess how many fossilized shark's teeth were adopted that day? Many. Many, many, many. We slogged back to the car, booty in tow.
Back at the campsite, the Ha ha raccoons were having a blast investigating the vinyl tablecloth that had residue coffeecake frosting on it. I had Wiped that Damn thing off, thank you, but the glaze of factory produced Sara Lee beckoned alluringly. They had dismantled the screen and presented as little moving bumps under the plastic as we pulled up. You know, dealing with wild animals, you just have to get smarter than them, don't even imagine there is such a thing as human superiority when it comes to intimidation. Not when there is sugar involved. They left quickly, losing their Ha ha raccoon monikers, morphing into those Little Sonsabitches.
But it was hot. In the nineties during the day, in the mid-80's at night. The only way to fall asleep was exhaustion and dull poisoning by the Off! sprayed into the tent after zipping it closed. You get very friendly with chemicals when there are bugs that want to eat you. The heck with hormonal changes and cancer, you could have spread Deet on our burgers like mustard if it would keep the bugs away, meaning the buzzsaw mosquitoes. We melted into our cots for two really great weeks.
Arriving home, son and father went to Scout camp for a get together or jamboree or whatever they have. The next morning, I had a cramp in my right side, took a warm bath, hum de hum, nothing happening, thought it was a female thing. Cramp accelerated from zero to one hundred sixty and breakfast came up. Drove myself to the doctor's, and was flipped around on a metal table under the x-ray--combined with the previous week's Deet, I'm surprised I wasn't ticking--and ultimately whisked off to the hospital.
They gave me n-o-t-h-i-n-g for pain except Tylenol, which was like tossing an aspirin into the Grand Canyon, and taught me to pee into a coffee filter thing that would catch any stones that had made the journey. I was surprised, a kidney stone? Thank god that's all it was, but it knocked the sauce out of me. The doctor said the intense heat combined with sweating caused my kidneys to kick one out, it was only a matter of time, but that was a trigger.
Move on up twenty yars, I thought a bladder infection was on its way, and ended up in the hands of a urologist whose first line of action was to examine me for bladder anomalies. I had to drink three quarts of water and not pee. The nurse laid me back on a table, placed a drape over my knees and asked if I liked Cher. No. Sinatra? Okay okay, let's just get going. Next to my bottom was a tray with long, medieval looking metal probes. Pointy at one end, differently sized, they looked like they could hold a rock climber to a granite face.
I was sprayed with a numbing agent, the doctor walked in, picked up a talon, and pounced that thing into Smallville with a flourish. Sinatra yodeled, and the doctor then manipulated a fiber optic through the probe and periscoped each quadrant. He was chatty and fast, to his credit. Things were clear. I was next sent for x-rays, where it was found that another creeping kidney stone was descending. There was no way I wanted to deliver another stone and opted for the Blaster, the sound wave treatment that crumbles the conglomerate into manageable bits.
You are semi-conscious at first before they put you under, and lay in a shallow pool of water ontop a table. A thingamajig is aimed at the area of suspicious involvement and there is a repetitive booming sound before you are knocked completely out. the procedure isn't painful, but truthfully, is it better than just passing the stone as recovery includes peeing half of your spleen out along with the specks of oxalate? You pee tomato jam for over a week and creak around with sore kidneys for longer. You heal, but what on earth does it do to the surrounding organs, I'd like to keep them for as long as possible without pureeing them.
Well, it has been hot as a deuce and it feels familiarly uncomfortable, as if I have a bladder infection. This, I am told, is caused by teeny fragments, crystals, that are sifting their way out but act like sandpaper on the pink parts. You can bet that I am going to drink lots of water and pee in the collapsible screened cup I saved from the last performance. Just to see if anything turns up. All these minerals I've been taking as supplements, perhaps a cubic zirconia may pop out. Don't look too close at my charm bracelet next time you see me.
Sundown, dusk, twilight, evening. Good night, good night, good sleep.
Guy Alert: Female Emotional Stuff and Maybe Girl Bits Ahead. My son and then husband were camping, all of us had just got back from family tent camping in Florida in July. It was beautiful at Fort DeSoto Park, and raccoons jumped into our car as we unpacked. They were smaller and much skinnier than the at home raccoons which can jack your car as they grab marshmallows off the toasting stick and give you the finger. Big, like retrievers, the northern raccoons. These little ones hopped through the trunk and efficiently dug through our packed boxes of food; we knew something was in the backseat, but what? Ha ha, aren't they cute. Now scoot, you little buggers. Ha ha.
Red ibis and white egrets lounged through the warm water of the Gulf, hibiscus big as dinner plates burst open by our tent and drew butterflies artfully daubed by Matisse. We watched dolphins at breakfast from inside a screened-in awning we put up so bitey bugs couldn't reach us. We left for the day, a trip down to Venice Beach where the sand is black from the fossilized deposits of shark teeth, which are in abundance throughout the beach. It is a child's dream fantasy, at least it was Brian's, who was a ten year old shark expert at the time. His face lit up beatifically at the first scoop of sand and teeth, and I thought he might shoot straight to the clouds, his eyes were glowing that much. Can you guess how many fossilized shark's teeth were adopted that day? Many. Many, many, many. We slogged back to the car, booty in tow.
Back at the campsite, the Ha ha raccoons were having a blast investigating the vinyl tablecloth that had residue coffeecake frosting on it. I had Wiped that Damn thing off, thank you, but the glaze of factory produced Sara Lee beckoned alluringly. They had dismantled the screen and presented as little moving bumps under the plastic as we pulled up. You know, dealing with wild animals, you just have to get smarter than them, don't even imagine there is such a thing as human superiority when it comes to intimidation. Not when there is sugar involved. They left quickly, losing their Ha ha raccoon monikers, morphing into those Little Sonsabitches.
But it was hot. In the nineties during the day, in the mid-80's at night. The only way to fall asleep was exhaustion and dull poisoning by the Off! sprayed into the tent after zipping it closed. You get very friendly with chemicals when there are bugs that want to eat you. The heck with hormonal changes and cancer, you could have spread Deet on our burgers like mustard if it would keep the bugs away, meaning the buzzsaw mosquitoes. We melted into our cots for two really great weeks.
Arriving home, son and father went to Scout camp for a get together or jamboree or whatever they have. The next morning, I had a cramp in my right side, took a warm bath, hum de hum, nothing happening, thought it was a female thing. Cramp accelerated from zero to one hundred sixty and breakfast came up. Drove myself to the doctor's, and was flipped around on a metal table under the x-ray--combined with the previous week's Deet, I'm surprised I wasn't ticking--and ultimately whisked off to the hospital.
They gave me n-o-t-h-i-n-g for pain except Tylenol, which was like tossing an aspirin into the Grand Canyon, and taught me to pee into a coffee filter thing that would catch any stones that had made the journey. I was surprised, a kidney stone? Thank god that's all it was, but it knocked the sauce out of me. The doctor said the intense heat combined with sweating caused my kidneys to kick one out, it was only a matter of time, but that was a trigger.
Move on up twenty yars, I thought a bladder infection was on its way, and ended up in the hands of a urologist whose first line of action was to examine me for bladder anomalies. I had to drink three quarts of water and not pee. The nurse laid me back on a table, placed a drape over my knees and asked if I liked Cher. No. Sinatra? Okay okay, let's just get going. Next to my bottom was a tray with long, medieval looking metal probes. Pointy at one end, differently sized, they looked like they could hold a rock climber to a granite face.
I was sprayed with a numbing agent, the doctor walked in, picked up a talon, and pounced that thing into Smallville with a flourish. Sinatra yodeled, and the doctor then manipulated a fiber optic through the probe and periscoped each quadrant. He was chatty and fast, to his credit. Things were clear. I was next sent for x-rays, where it was found that another creeping kidney stone was descending. There was no way I wanted to deliver another stone and opted for the Blaster, the sound wave treatment that crumbles the conglomerate into manageable bits.
You are semi-conscious at first before they put you under, and lay in a shallow pool of water ontop a table. A thingamajig is aimed at the area of suspicious involvement and there is a repetitive booming sound before you are knocked completely out. the procedure isn't painful, but truthfully, is it better than just passing the stone as recovery includes peeing half of your spleen out along with the specks of oxalate? You pee tomato jam for over a week and creak around with sore kidneys for longer. You heal, but what on earth does it do to the surrounding organs, I'd like to keep them for as long as possible without pureeing them.
Well, it has been hot as a deuce and it feels familiarly uncomfortable, as if I have a bladder infection. This, I am told, is caused by teeny fragments, crystals, that are sifting their way out but act like sandpaper on the pink parts. You can bet that I am going to drink lots of water and pee in the collapsible screened cup I saved from the last performance. Just to see if anything turns up. All these minerals I've been taking as supplements, perhaps a cubic zirconia may pop out. Don't look too close at my charm bracelet next time you see me.
Sundown, dusk, twilight, evening. Good night, good night, good sleep.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment