PLEASED to finally meet you. Well, pleased isn’t the right word. More like demystified.
I’ve been in the neighborhood a few times. The Super Glide get-off of 2003, smashed bones, a cracked coconut, bruises measured in square feet. A 6 at best.
Last night I told the nurse to put me down for 8.
Told her if I start getting loud like I’m the only one who has to live in the waiting room all night, scratch out 8, write 9. When I lose consciousness, figure on 10.
I got another free pair of hospital socks, so that’s good. Blue ones. All my others are gray.
Had a great day yesterday, got a ton of work done around the house, but by 8:30 in the evening I heard myself articulating for the bride a set of words I had never expected to say, as unlikely for me as an oath of office, or a speech before the Norwegian Nobel Committee.
“Babe, you’re going to have to call an ambulance.”
I couldn’t stand up straight. That ruled out walking.
Couldn’t sit up. That ruled out a ride in the passenger seat of her car.
If I was ever going to get there, it would have to be lying down.
I had finished up the day’s work and was putting away tools when I was suddenly aware of an ache in the small of my back. Over the next hour it got more intense, then moved around front to the left side of my abdomen. In its next phase it dropped me to my knees and had me calling Ralph on the big white phone.
Between heaves, I spent the next hour trying to find a position on the bathroom floor that didn’t hurt.
My findings in summary: They all hurt.
Amateur Dr. Pam diagnosed it as a kidney stone. This morning, after a long night in the E.R., a CAT scan confirmed her diagnosis. A 2mm stone. The doc said maybe it’ll pass without getting stuck again. But if it gets stuck again, brace for Round 2.
Saturday night in the urban E.R., bound to be full up. Add in all the covid stresses on the system and on the people who make it work, get set for a long night. That said, I never expected an overly long night. The gal at the desk says there are patients ahead of me who’ve been waiting 13 hours.
Is it possible to endure 13 hours of this sort of pain? I’m not sure I want to check that box. So I engage every gatekeeper I can find. The waiting room, packed because of covid, is also patients-only because of covid. You need to be your own advocate.
If I don’t succeed at that, I’m leaving. I call Pam and tell her to come get me, I’d rather writhe on the bathroom floor for the next 13 hours. By the time she gets to Providence I’ll know whether I’m staying or not.
I take a run at this person in the reception area, this other one, at anybody who comes out of the inner sanctum and calls out a name. Soon I’m knocking on windows at nurses working computer keyboards… could you come out here and talk to me? I’m the only one in the room who’s an honest number 8 and hardly able to get a breath. Everybody else is as passively slumped as an aged Floridian, the hopeless awaiting the inevitable.
What I didn’t know at the time is that Pam had no intention of hauling me back home to suffer in private. She was on the horn to the E.R. working anybody who would talk to her.
So I pressed my case in person, she pressed it over the phone, and about an hour after my arrival a nurse kindly wheeled me behind the glass doors, and there, like Salma Hayak’s angel of mercy in Across the Universe, she shot me up with morphine.
Have you heard that thing about how morphine’s no match for kidney stones? It’s true. Morphine didn’t touch the pain in the way you hope it will. All it did was knock me out for a hour.
I woke up, threw up four more heaves, went back down for another hour.
When I woke up the second time, I felt fine. Thoroughly wrung out, certainly, but the pain was gone. The stone had moved.
I felt as if that space larva hitching a ride on the USCSS Nostromo had finally burst out of my abdomen and skittered off.
I dozed off & on all night, got a CAT scan around 9:30 this morning. Had the diagnosis by 10:30, out the door by 11. Thirteen hours door to door, give or take.
Pam picked me up outside, me standing there in my new blue socks. Do you have shoes? the doctor had asked. I said at home I do.
Got home, went down for a 5 & a half hour nap. Wolfed down two bison burgers the bride had kindly grilled, and then scribbled this thing to make your day look awfully good.
Tony DePaul, October 10, 2021, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Pain makes philosophy seem monumentally useless. At times, prayers, too. Quite the opposite for morphine shots: one for pain, two for eternity.
Did you know that Muriel Young died in April? She was the last of the elders to pass away. The end of an era, eh?
No, I hadn’t heard about Muriel, Bill. She must have been in her 90s?
How did you hear?
Yikes! I had a friend who got it and had to chew hard on his handkerchief to get some sort of temporary relief before getting to hospital. Did you try that? Your hospital lines sound worse than our public hospitals here. For the private hospitals you’d have been in pretty fast. Glad you’re Ok though. Drink (water) frequently!
Ha! Like in the Western movies… “Bite on this here bullet, pard, whilst the boys dig dat slug outta yore brain pan.”
Well this was Rhode Island Hospital, the main one in the area. A great hospital. It provided me with excellent care in every way when I was rather badly bashed up in 2003. They’re stretched now because all the smaller hospitals are at the breaking point, overwhelmed by people ginned up on ideology, coming in with a preventable disease they were too “skeptical” to prevent. All the smaller hospitals are refusing emergency patients, sending them to Providence by ambulance. Imagine the viral loading the hospital staff in Providence is subjected to, a risk to them and their families.
I have nothing but good to say about Rhode Island Hospital, but I definitely saw some empathy burnout going on. Before covid there’s no way I would have had to work to get attention while in a seriously high level of pain.
Tony, what are the plans for getting rid of the stone ? I know there are treatments, some more invasive than others….
Drank water water water! About the equivalent of an Antarctic ice sheet. That did the trick.
Tony,
With your widespread following, the pain of that kidney stone was felt around the country. I’m glad that it’s over and hoping there is no sequel.
Ha! Thanks, Bob. Hopefully the sequel never gets greenlit, or gets greenlit but goes into turnaround, then the studio head gets fired and nobody will return my call.
I’m lucky not to have kidney stone so far, I keep my fingers crossed. But I feel your pain and pray for your fast recovery. I enjoy your writings very much, thank you, and keep up your good work. Say hello to Pam and the kids for us.
Thanks, Dominic. I hope your retirement’s going well. Stop and see us the next time you’re passing through to Massachusetts. We’re living in a construction site but we don’t care if you don’t.
Hi to Thuy and the family!
Tony,
If the pain brought you down, I can’t imagine what it would do to me. It sounds awful. If you’ve never watched Brian Regan do his bit on his number 8, it might resonate with you.
Glad you and Pam could do double duty to get you seen in the hospital.
Not familiar with Brian Regan but will google his name & the number 8 now. Thanks, Cynthia!
Haha! He’s good. “Say 8!”
What a nightmare, so sorry this happened to you, Tony. I’m glad all is well now.
Thanks, Ellie. At least it didn’t happen last week on the work site in Vermont. Jonny would have snapped a ridiculous photo of Adam lugging 200 pounds of firewood down the hill & me to boot.
Oooooofaaaaaa. I’m calming down now – at first I thought you had another off on your scooter. Hope things progress properly and you get past this quickly!
Thanks, Chris.
Did you ever get that dashboard put back together? No turning back now, indeed. Pam showed me a photo from FB.
Tony, nice to hear from you again, just sorry it was this particular adventure and glad you seem to be on the mend. I have heard of this pain you speak of. That there is nothing else like it, other than maybe childbirth which still seems to be done, at least in many cases, willingly, meaning there must be some sort of payoff involved. I love coffee. Not much of a black tea drinker. I love beets. I like legumes. I didn’t even know about legumes. I also have a penchant for under-hydrating myself. My question, somewhat serious, somewhat tongue in cheek, is about the calculation. There is always some sort of pain involved in living. Knowing what you know now, would you still consume the things you had in trade for what you experienced. Literal and philosophical answers are acceptable and encouraged. I have learned a lot from you. No pressure. Wink.
Hi, Todd. As always, thanks for following the scribble.
A week from now I hope I’m in an Oscar Wilde frame of mind about it: all things in moderation, including moderation. I’ll cut back on foods and drinks that contain oxalate instead of making a hard and fast rule about it. And will drink more water! That can’t hurt.
I think you said it: living is risky and about managing risk. Trying to avoid it entirely wouldn’t seem like living at all.
Though I wouldn’t go as far as the French, necessarily: You Americans lead boring lives and have no style, you should smoke more cigarettes! 🙂
I have a a few rounds with the stones my self, only mine was in the form of a very fine like gravel, but was still painful. Lost my left lung in 2006, and where I was stapled back together was a bit painful, so I am sorry to hear you had to go through that, you just think it’s never going to end, and the relief you feel when it does end is just awesome. The thing with my lung never could find the damn thing after I lost it, it just ran and got away, and almost took me with it. You take care Tony. May The Ghost Who Walks always watch over you. Old jungle saying.
Ouch! If I ever lose a lung it’ll be by accident, Bronson. Probably get sideswiped, leave it on somebody’s side-view mirror.
I have left my other one up for grabs, when my luck finally goes south, and anything else they can scrape out of me, or it might be that side-view mirror for me too, getting the itch to do what I never did all those years ago, and it’s on my bucket list. This Bronson needs that bike. Bronson to Bronson my friend.
Glad you are recovering! Stones hurt!!!
Thanks, Jody. I’m good, just worn out for now. Started working on the house this morning, after 10 minutes came down off the ladder, said okay that’s enough of that for one day. Nap time!
Tony, sorry to hear about your health issues, again. Good news for your wife figuring out the problem. I hope this does not last as long as the last one.
You are a tough guy and will make ‘er!
On the lighter side of things, it is Thanksgiving Day and we woke up to snow coming down and the ground is white.
That’s right! Today’s the Thanksgiving holiday up north. Hope you’re enjoying the day with family and friends, Bob. The house you and Janie built was made to be crowded with visitors.
Yeah, Kidney stones hurt more than your typical “flesh wound”. Not for the faint of heart. Glad you’re doing better.
Kidney stones, anal fissures, ruptured discs, gall bladder attacks, and open heart surgery – nasty stuff. They take away all resolve to be stoic.
Maybe it’s time to count how many cups of tea I consume.
Dennis
We humans really are soft targets for a whole legion of maladies without mercy.
Pam has me on green tea as we speak.
Not personally acquainted with that type of pain but hubby is. I’ve seen enough to know that I’m glad you are feeling better! Trusting it doesn’t return! Wayne’s has been stationary for years and we are hoping and praying it never rears it’s ugly head again.
Sadly, our day is worse. This afternoon we lay to rest my 31 year old niece – an avid and experienced biker who lost her life in a biking accident on Tuesday past through no fault of her own. A tough blow!
Oh, no, Joy. I’m so sorry to hear this. Life is just starting and then suddenly gone. If you would, tell me your niece’s name. I’ll see if the circumstances of her accident were reported in your local press.
Condolences to you and Wayne and the rest of the family.
Ah. I see her name now on your blog, Joy. https://joy-fulreflections.blogspot.com/
I didn’t know until now that you had started blogging again this summer.
Responded to you via email before seeing this. Oh well – no harm done.
After a dry spell my heart finally opened up to writing again so…
My husband had your pain experience in Vermont — Stowe! — where he was on a “business ski trip.” This was 20 years ago, but they plunged the morphine needle into him at the Central Vermont Hospital about a minute and a half after he arrived at the ER, yowling. So next time, produce a stone in VT.
Wow, that’s fast service. I erred when I said they gave me the morphine an hour after I got there. I happened to see on the discharge papers this morning that it was actually more like two hours later. Must be some kind of pain-driven memory lapse. I left voicemail for Pam from the ER and have absolutely no memory of doing so.
If this ever happens to me in Vermont, I’ll tell them the stone plugging up the works is pure white Vermont dolomite and I expect narcotics in 90 seconds, thank you. (I think those are the white rocks I’ve seen poking through the leaf litter here & there on the kids’ property in Reading VT… I’ll have to bring one home and show it to someone who might know for sure.)
Actually you talked to me, not voicemail…told me to come get you. I knew it was the pain talking but it wouldn’t have been better at home especially since you had not been diagnosed yet.
Okay, that’s even weirder. When I said, no, we didn’t talk on the phone, we texted, didn’t you say there was a recording? I guess I assumed that meant voicemail.
Or maybe I’m still out of my tree and you never mentioned a recording. Let’s go with that!
Your experience sounds horrible especially the part about writhing around in the ER without help. I’m sorry you had to endure any of it. Your calling Ralph on the white phone made me laugh out loud. That’s a new one to me. Always a pleasure to read your life stories Tony although I am sorry for the pain you had to experience this go around. Jon would have laughed at the reference to your blue hospital socks. He had dozens of the gray kind. Unfortunately.
Hello to your co-pilot, Pam.
Yeah when you wrap your arms around the big white phone and bellow for Ralph to pick up, he just won’t. Or won’t for me. I always get his voicemail.
Thanks for the kind words, Kathy. Will hope to see you again on the Eastern Sierra in a traveling season not too far off.
Ouch. There is that relative scale where your 8 is someone else’s 11. You the Sultan of Stoicism might be skewed to the side of the scale others cannot comprehend. Get past this!
No no no no, quite the opposite. I’ve been in the room, dude; seen you cope in superhuman ways as surgeons poked and prodded at the damage in Seattle. Has it really been ten years now? Ten this past July?
FYI to others: Jan was building a road on the Olympic Peninsula. On a rainy hillside the earth collapsed under the downhill tread, dozer rolled, Jan leaped for his life, saved it at the cost of a crushed lower-right leg. A year or two later he was back to skiing Mount Rainier and riding motorcycles.
There are two photos of Jan in those days up high on this post: https://www.tonydepaul.net/seattle-and-home-to-rhode-island/
Thanks for making me reread that article about Jan, the Indians and Pam. It’s one of my all time favorites.
Thanks, man! It’s getting to be a golden oldie. Where did the last decade go?
Will take a wild guess and say the same place this next one’s going.
Oh, Tony! You have my deepest sympathies! I ended up in the same state on Christmas Eve, 2019. I tried to tough it out, but after about 4 hours of non-stop ache, pain and misery, I headed for the ER. Fortunately, I only had one conversation with the stone pony. The stone passed on its own while I was lying in bed in the ER, trying to ignore Chatty Kathy in the next bed, who was bent on telling me her life story. The stone looked like a grain of rice. I was incredulous that something THIS SMALL had caused so much misery……….
So, yeah, I really do feel your pain.
Linnea
What a way to spend Christmas Eve! That could actually be a jumping-off point for a terrifying new Santa movie: if you’re on the outs with Santa’s sadistic twin, instead of a lump of coal he gives you a kidney stone.
Hey, it worked! I was thinking this was one of my more tiring days ever, and after reading about your night, it looked “awfully good”. Now STOP IT, and let’s do something fun.
Ha! Pam really enjoyed her visit with you and Jorge while I was working in Vermont with Jonny and Adam. We will all get together soon. We must. I’m eager to hear your Panama stories.
I have heard from others that Kidney Stones are just about the worst pain one can experience. Your story Tony, pretty much confirms that.
“Thank you, I won’t be needing any part of that particular life experience. Hard Pass.”
Beets! Another thing that causes stones, I just read.
First thing I did when I got home this morning was take a swig of my favorite beet & orange juice.
I really do sympathise with you, Tony. I’ve been there with gravel in the plumbing myself, back in 2004. If there’s a bright side, at least it wasn’t a wrecked back which is what I feared on your behalf when I started reading this story.
They say that if a man wants to experience the pain of childbirth he should get a kidney stone. If that’s so we should love and cherish the mother of our children all the more.
In my case I called an ambulance to take me to my favorite private hospital ER. (Thanks private medical insurance). I didn’t have to spend half a day in the company of the great unwashed. In fact I was the only patient there and the ER doc was a lady I already knew. She was happy to have the boredom relieved. I was high as a kite because the kind ambulance paramedics had given me a kind of penny whistle stuffed with cotton wool soaked in halothane to suck on. The doc said “Yup, kidney stone”, shot me up with pethidine and admitted me overnight.
The hospital had just opened on its new site two days before and had a medical imaging suite full of brand new equipment. Over the next few days the medical techs tried out every scan known to man with their new toys. The diagnosis was fine sand in the plumbing so I stayed for five days, all at the insurance company’s expense while I weed into a jug so a nurse could filter it and look for the sand. I had a relaxing time with good hospital food (an oxymoron if ever there was one), pethidine whenever I needed it and a good supply of paperbacks on the bookshelf in the patients lounge. Thank heavens for a love of reading. I got my exercise by doing laps around the long, long hospital corridors. My other diversion was ticking boxes on the daily meal order form. Towards the end of the five days I was getting worried because I was excessively enjoying the free narcotics and the nice room with a view. But at the end of the five days the attending physician decided that the sand was all gone and let me go. No recurrence of the trouble since which is either good fortune or a precautionary daily pill. I’m also not supposed to eat legumes which allegedly promote kidney stones but I cheat from time to time. I do love the noble bean in all its various forms packed with protein and fiber.
But there is more to a kidney stone diet than eschewing beans so if your doctor wants to discuss diet you should listen. Your friend the Ghost Who Walks should stop listening to that ancient charlatan Mozz who speaks in riddles. But if he did there would be no current daily story which has engendered much speculation among the commentators on the CK website.
I really enjoy your stories about the kids’ block of woods up in Vermont so keep them coming. They are so lucky to have you and your skills.
Great story, that! Thanks for writing, Peter. Beans, too? I’ve been told to give up black tea. I put away at least a gallon of that every day.
I think kidney stones can be broken apart by focused ultrasound waves, so I hope you can get treated quickly, man. In the meantime, listen to the Rolling Stones…
Haha… hopefully this one will soon roll into the paint filter they gave me to piss in.
OMG, what a night! So glad you’re ok! Hugs to you both.
If you ever go to the E.R., we’ll get Pam to call in, Sherry. She’s an effective advocate.
Wow Tony. And I thought getting gallstones a week before my birthday back in March was rough. At least with those, when they gave me a hefty dose of Morphine 10 minute after presenting to the ER I was feeling no pain. Makes me never ever want to experience their obviously nasty cousins the kidney stones. Glad you’re feeling better. Stay well.
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving. Had our first brief interlude of snow this afternoon.
Whoa! Checked in, evaluated and treated in 10 minutes? Now that’s Canadians living up to their reputation for kindness. 🙂
Glad to know you survived!❤️❤️
Thanks, Debbie. Of course, the stone, too, lives to fight another day.
My dad and my former boss both suffered kidney stones. They said it hurt like nothing they had experienced. My former boss had one on a trip to Africa once. He was sweating bullets from what I understand. Glad it has moved on and I sincerely hope neither you nor I ever have another (or first in my case).
That’s the worst, being sick and far from home. When life reminds us what soft targets we are, you just want to curl up on your very own bathroom rug and ride it out.
I’ve only ever heard of kidney stones. I’m not looking forward to ever having any. Get well Tony!
Lucky man! Do you drink tea, Bill?
I drink gallons of tea a day. They say black tea can cause stones. It’ll be hard to give up.
Wow, Tony!! Sounds like a rough night, considering there was no alcohol involved!! So glad you’re better.
Got a 12-pack of Guiness Stout handy for when the stone moves.
Jeezus. Something that takes you down must be strong. Glad you came out of it. Getting old is not for sissies.
There’s always some guy at the hospital who tries to say his pain is a 15 on a scale of 1 to 10. When Pam broke her shoulder and waited patiently for 6 hours to be seen in the E.R. some squid just in from wrecking his motorcycle was carrying on like you wouldn’t believe. I came close to ripping the curtain aside and telling him shut the hell up, you’re not hurt that bad!