All Better!
Technically, at least. I went into the Ye Olde House of Ultrashock (or whatever it's called) in LaGrange this morning. Filled out the usual forms and within minutes was told to take off everything (socks optional) and put on a robe.
"Does anyone take off their socks, too?" I asked, my butt hanging out but my socks still on.
"No, most people keep them on."
Figures. It allows even a smidgen of modesty, considering what they're about to do.
They place me on a table, or gurney, or bed, or whatever it is, send in the x-ray technician, then the anesthesiologist. My doctor makes a cameo, tells me that his Monday ended up open after all, so if it wasn't today it would have been scheduled for then. He asks a secretary to brew up more coffee, so I ask him if he's awake.
"Oh, I'm awake," he confirms.
The x-ray technician notes and jokes about my general hairiness, which is comparable to his own.
"People say, 'why not get a full body wax?' Have you ever seen 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin?' That guy's bleeding!"
Right around then the medicine kicks in, and I wake up an hour or so later in a different bed in a recovery room. I seem to recall the doctor telling me it went well, and then someone brought me fruit punch and shortbread cookies, which I ate, at least until I noticed the spot of blood on my hospital gown around my, um, crotch.
"This blood normal?"
"Oh, yeah, it's normal. It'll be gone in a day or so. Just drink a lot of fluids."
They had me put on my clothes, Alma came in to drive me home, Baby Z. yelled "da-dee!!" and we all went home, where I am right now. Ate a sandwich and drank four glasses of water. Next step - the last step - is peeing out all the tiny bits of stone in there, which should be no prob.
"This will hurt a little," said the anesthesiologist, back when he stuck the IV in my arm.
"Pain is pretty relative when you have a kidney stone," I told him. "Sure, it hurts. But only a little."
I still feel like I fared better than most (so far, knock on wood). As my Dad confirmed, it's not really the worst pain even, just the worst ache ever. They're different things. Not sharp, just ... painful. Like someone hit you in the back with a baseball bat and then kicked you in the groin. You know, that kind of pain.
But now it's all better. And if not, or if the stent bothers me, there are always the drugs.
"Does anyone take off their socks, too?" I asked, my butt hanging out but my socks still on.
"No, most people keep them on."
Figures. It allows even a smidgen of modesty, considering what they're about to do.
They place me on a table, or gurney, or bed, or whatever it is, send in the x-ray technician, then the anesthesiologist. My doctor makes a cameo, tells me that his Monday ended up open after all, so if it wasn't today it would have been scheduled for then. He asks a secretary to brew up more coffee, so I ask him if he's awake.
"Oh, I'm awake," he confirms.
The x-ray technician notes and jokes about my general hairiness, which is comparable to his own.
"People say, 'why not get a full body wax?' Have you ever seen 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin?' That guy's bleeding!"
Right around then the medicine kicks in, and I wake up an hour or so later in a different bed in a recovery room. I seem to recall the doctor telling me it went well, and then someone brought me fruit punch and shortbread cookies, which I ate, at least until I noticed the spot of blood on my hospital gown around my, um, crotch.
"This blood normal?"
"Oh, yeah, it's normal. It'll be gone in a day or so. Just drink a lot of fluids."
They had me put on my clothes, Alma came in to drive me home, Baby Z. yelled "da-dee!!" and we all went home, where I am right now. Ate a sandwich and drank four glasses of water. Next step - the last step - is peeing out all the tiny bits of stone in there, which should be no prob.
"This will hurt a little," said the anesthesiologist, back when he stuck the IV in my arm.
"Pain is pretty relative when you have a kidney stone," I told him. "Sure, it hurts. But only a little."
I still feel like I fared better than most (so far, knock on wood). As my Dad confirmed, it's not really the worst pain even, just the worst ache ever. They're different things. Not sharp, just ... painful. Like someone hit you in the back with a baseball bat and then kicked you in the groin. You know, that kind of pain.
But now it's all better. And if not, or if the stent bothers me, there are always the drugs.
posted by Josh at 1:18 PM
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