My lower back has been hurting for about a month. I chalked it up to I pulled a muscle, I’m getting old or my part-time salon job is ruining my life. I dealt with it, pushed through the pain and kept going cause I have shit to do.
The pain kept up all through New York but I just ignored it and drank a little more to dull the ache. Keeping in mind we got home on Monday, Thursday’s sun rises up and I get out of bed…holy crap does my right side/back hurt!!! Pain level 4. Meh, get in the shower, get ready and head out to work. Its 8am, I say to myself “if it gets worse by noon I’ll take my lunch and hop over to MedExpress.” I last until 830am. At this point I am going between laying on my desk, the floor, pacing the room and sweating. Now the pain is getting so bad I start dry heaving. Pain level 7. If I could have actually eaten breakfast, there is no doubt I would have tossed oatmeal/toast all over the place. That’s it, something is seriously wrong with me, I’m heading out.
I drive to MedExpress and they take me back. The doctor was super nice and she’s like you either have kidney stones, your appendix is about to burst or you have an ovarian cyst about to rupture. Okay, Doc…what’s behind door number 4 cause none of these options seem like a picnic? She is sending me to the ER and my pain is now at a level 9. There is no way I can drive myself so I call my Mother. Most people like to call their mom’s in times of crisis….I do not. I’m not good, like at all, in a crisis and guess where I got that from???
So Mom picks me up and drives 1.2 miles to the hospital hitting every bump, pot hole and rock along the way in her attempt to drive very fast (the speed limit) to get me there quick. I’m at a level 10 pain and dry heaving…not a good combo. So I SCREAM this at her and she decides the best thing to do is swerve around every bump, pot hole and rock. Ummm, no….this isn’t working either. Needless to say fighting, screaming and tears commence in the 5 minutes it takes to drive from MedExpress to the hospital. Like Nana always said…you plant potatoes you get potatoes…do not call me or my Mom if the world comes to an end….we will just stand there and freak the fuck out. Don’t call Hot Mama either. The only thing she will do is put make-up on you. <**True Story: The day I found out Goffchile cheated on me I did what any red blooded American girl would do and that was go out and get seriously shitfaced. Hot Mama and Mindbling came to get me at the bar and in my epic hysteria all Hot Mama could do was put make-up on me since I had been crying all of mine off. MB was kicking ass and taking names in her usual taking-care-of-business style.**> Seriously, call Mindbling. She rocks in a crisis. Hindsight, I should have called her.
So we are rocking it in the ER, the pain is a level 12 and I am having a full blown meltdown. The nurse takes one look at me and says “oh girl, you have kidney stones”. Just like that. No X-Ray, no tests…just from my freak out she can tell. And she was right. Of course they send me for tests and CT scans and X-Rays and all kinds of shit but guess what. Kidney stones….Huh, guess why my back has been hurting for a month. Can you imagine if this would have kicked in 3 days earlier? Chilla would have had to take me to a hospital in New York…maybe I would have seen more famous people….
So now I see the Urologist and get the news I have 3 stones!!! One is the size of a coffee bean…how the hell does this happen??? Well let me tell you how. Apparently, I have a cheese/dairy addiction that I wasn’t aware of. Once I started telling the doctor, my mom and even Chilla how much cheese I was eating everyone flipped the fuck out. Oh, and I don’t drink plain water, just iced tea and coffee. Not a good mix.
There is no way something the size of a coffee bean is going to pass on its own, so I have to go in for a procedure. The doc gives me a pamphlet on what will happen. It states I will get an epidural, and be attached to a wood board suspended in a pool of water where ultrasound waves will be sent through my body to bust up those little fuckers. Scared yet? I sure as hell was. All weekend. And for nothing, because not one of those things happened. Well, the ultra sound happened but that was it. I came out of my twilight asking everyone if I was wet and I’m sure they thought I was nuts. Finally one of my nurses asked why I was saying that and I told her about the pamphlet I got and she flipped out and said they haven’t done it that way since 1945 and she was personally calling the doctors office to have them never give that out again! My own personal Florence Nightingale. Her name was Joy and she rocked.
The procedure went fine and nothing hurt until 2 days later. That’s when the stones started to pass and OMFG, I wanted to stab my own eyes out from the pain. If the previous pain was a 12 this was a 20. Poor Chilla, he has now seen me at my rock bottom worst, crying, screaming in pain, throwing myself around the apartment, pacing like a lunatic, yelling at the cats for getting in my way….this lasted for the next 5 days. Thankfully not a level 20 but a steady 10 to 12 for sure. And what do I have to show for this? Salt. Frigging Salt. Look at this!! Does this look like 5 plus days of pain to you?
My Grandfather and now my Dad have a signoff they say every time we end a phone call: Be careful, Watch your step, Don’t trust nobody…its an Italian thing. We just added, Don’t eat the cheese.