Stoned

They say that you never really deal with your own mortality until faced with it. It was 8:30am and I had been in Biblical Interpretation class for a half hour. In a moment of clarity I realized I was having trouble focusing on the lecture and had been searching doctor’s numbers on my iPhone for the last fifteen minutes. I could not remember doing either. On the forefront of my mind at that moment was a growing discomfort in my back and abdomen that was making sitting still very uncomfortable. I realized I could sit no longer. Getting up, I made my way to the nearest restroom as calmly as I could. Pressing the speed dial button for my wife I began telling her how I felt. In my mind I was speaking rationally; but I soon realized in actuality I was communicating unclearly through labored speech and tears. Were those coming from me?

I headed home, hoping I could make it. The discomfort continuing to grow and the pain intensifying in waves that brought initial false comfort and then intense pain. Nearly passing out twice on the short five-minute drive, I arrived home in what probably looked to be a drunken stupor. I sat in the car for awhile after throwing it into park, exited the vehicle without closing the door, crawled up the steps, and fell into my wife’s arms. Pain. Severe discomfort. Nausea.

It was difficult to discern who was in worse shape, my wife or I. Looking back it is difficult to believe that at this point we were still trying to decide between a doctor or an emergency room and while I was beginning to wonder if it was a kidney stone I had yet to fully embrace the thought. We packed up the girls, ourselves, and headed to the car. I stopped short, emptying my breakfast on the ground in front of my 20-month old. Not my finest moment. It is interesting to note that in this moment of personal misery and humilty my foremost thought is to sheild my child from her father’s agony. It was soon apparent I had failed at that venture.

“Daddy feel better?”

Yes Baby, Daddy feel better.

… it was short-lived comfort. From that moment I knew I was headed to the ER and I knew the road ahead was not going to be easy. Things were getting progressively more intense on all fronts.

What followed is partially blurred in my mind. I was lucid and rational, but primal instinct took over and my only priority was a selfish one: manage the pain. Short breaths. Squirming. Sweat. Please hurry, Honey. Relax. Puke. Squirm. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I’m OK, I know it doesn’t seem that way Honey, it just hurts really bad. Radiating pain. Cramp. Release. Searing hurt. Release. Shock. Release. Family history. No kidney stones before.

Kidney stones. Finally someone agrees with my fear. In the moments I am lucid I wonder if I will endure this. I never thought I would die, but I never imagined living through it.

“On a scale from one to ten where ten is the worst pain imaginable, what is your level of pain?”

10.

I was soon to realize I did not know what a “10″ really was.

Wheelchair. Ouch. Breakfast again. Stretcher. IV. That didn’t hurt. 11. 12. Where is your pain now? 13 or 14. Dilauded. No effect. Dilauded again. Better. Better. OUCH. Worse. Fetal position. Crying. Moaning. Tears. Screaming. I’m OK Honey, I really am, it just hurts really bad. OUCH! Clutch wife’s hand. Breathe. Pain. Breathe. Moan. Breathe. Breathe. Yell…

Demorol. Ouch. Pain. 7 or 8. More breakfast. Off to CT Scan. Nausea. Wait. Pain. Ouch. Moan. Moan. “Can I help you?” Please let my nurse know I am in pain again. Pain. Breathe. Pain. No one around. Pain. Scream. My phone’s in my pocket. Try to focus. Call wife. No answer. Aaaaargh. It hurts. Breathe. Call wife again. No answer. Call father-in-law. No answer. Breathe. Time for X-Ray. Moan. Scream. “You need to be quiet right now Sir.” I would if I could. Please call my nurse and tell her I am in pain. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Wait. Candy striper. Boy, am I glad to see you. Transport. Nausea. Demorol. Mild relief. Rest. Discomfort. Breathe. Rest. Rest. Relief. Rest. Relief. Relief.

Discharge.