Yes, upon this rock I will build a blog post.
You would think that at some point I would tire of these things, and you’d be right. But somewhere back there, in a glance over the shoulder, after I stopped counting I also stopped caring so much. I’ll say one thing for RA and Co.–they’ve made Kidney Stones just one more stop on the Ouch Express.
Actually, now that I think about it, it IS largely due to the RA & Co. that I’ve stopped minding the little fellows so much. The daily painkillers I take on a schedule also make the smaller fellows pass a bit easier. Granted, they aren’t the same painkillers that folks stick up a Walgreens for, but they’re halfway between a Tylenol and an Oxycontin. They seem to keep the ureters relaxed enough to keep the stones from getting too badly caught, and that’s where most of the pain is.
Without going into all the dull details of when and where it hurt, let me just say that it was a good 18 hours between when Charlie decided to leave his organic home and when he was expelled from the confines of my body, free at last to live in the open air. Yay for Charlie! His is a story we can all admire, a school-of-hard-knocks tale of a fellow toughened in a grim, dark environment who yearned only to see the light.
No. I am still not on strong drugs. Although this IS starting to feel like I’m taking dictation from that journalist whose name I can’t think of at the moment. The one who was always high and hung out with–oh yeah. Hunter S. Thompson. That’s his name. He hung out with Hell’s Angels and Zevon and other people. Some folks think he was cool but I think he was probably a huge pain to know. Folks who are high all the time are dull. I personally think that’s why they stay high; they have to make themselves more interesting to be with even in their own minds.
Speaking of folks who are high all the time, my husband was in Cuyahoga Falls at a Phish show. Oops. Better clarify. He’s never high, but a lot of people at Phish shows are. Or so I’ve always assumed. Never been to one myself. I was going to go to this one but the tickets were lawn seats. Which to a person like me is sort of prohibitive. Now, though, given this rocky turn of events it truly is best that I stayed home and dog-minded.
I am proud of myself. That’s why this is a blog post at all, unlike the last 30 or so which have passed remarked only on Facebook. I did this at home with no husband and no morphine. I want to call the Doctor from Baltimore and tell him “see! I’m not drug-seeking when I come to your bloody ER, you grim bastid!” Actually I don’t. I don’t want to have any interaction at all with the Doctor from Baltimore.
Now that the dogs have come back inside I think I better go lie down.