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Dance of the Kidney Stone Fairies


Last Sunday I noticed that I was peeing blood, so I was naturally freaked out. It cleared up a bit during the day, and on Monday I was treated to excreting various colours of the rainbow. I made an appointment with my GP and saw him on Wednesday. He did the ol’ taste test and confirmed that yes, blood was in my urine. He sent a urine sample to a lab, and told me to go get some ultrasounds and x-rays done right away. I booked those tests for Friday afternoon.

When I arrived at the ultrasound/x-ray lab on Friday, I had a cute intern do the initial ultrasounds, and then her supervisor gave me a second set of ultrasounds. Then I had an x-ray technician zap my abdomen a few times. When it was time to leave, and I asked all three women “I know you can’t tell me what you found, but what are the next steps?”

The x-ray technician said “all I saw in there was a lot of poop”. Thanks sweetie.

Then the senior ultrasound technician said that she had already faxed all the results to my GP and he had told her to tell me to go to emergency right away. Oh oh. She also said, “I can’t tell you any details of course, but I can tell you that you have some big stones”. I immediately swelled with pride as I thought she was referring to my testicles, until it dawned on me that she wasn’t in fact paying me a compliment.

I immediately took a taxi to emergency. I first had to get past the triage nurse. As anyone who has gone into emergency will tell you, triage nurses are the tough gatekeepers that either tell you that you have to sit and wait in emergency, or in my case, give you the green light to fast track to the admitting administrator. I made it quickly past the triage nurse, and the admitting admin person took some information from me and gave me a bunch of stickers. I love stickers. At first I thought they were Christmas stickers or old Halloween stickers that they were trying to unload, but then I saw that all the stickers had my name on then. What the hell kind of fun is that?

Then I moved into the next room and met Andrea, who asked me more questions and took some vitals. I noticed that she was left handed and asked her if she was an artist, which made her blush. I knew I had her right where I wanted her, so I figured if I slipped her a $20 that she would give me a clean bill of health and send me home. Fastest $20 I ever lost, let me tell you. Andrea then took me to a room where an RN named Christine came in and hooked a reverse fire hose up to my vein and proceeded to drain all the blood out of my body.

Then I sat in the room for about an hour and a nice male intern named Craig popped in. Craig was wired on caffeine, I could tell. He said “So you have a kidney stone, did you know that?”. I told him that earlier today a nice lady told me that I have big stones, but he just stared at me. He asked me a few more questions and told me that they were trying to get me in, and to hang tight.

Then I waited for another 45 minutes and was visited upon by a man calling himself Lance. Lance is an assistant urologist. The irony of knowing his name and knowing that they were going to be scooping me out with a butter knife was not lost on me. Lance told me all the things they were going to try, including hooking a space probe up to the inside of my weenie and yanking the stones out, and maybe even lasers. Very Star Wars. He also told me that there were not one, but two stones – one in my ureter (6mm) and a bigger 8mm one in my left kidney. He told me that 5mm and under they don’t operate, but that they were going to see if they could get both out, but no promises. He said that the operation was a quick ‘in and out’ that doesn’t usually take more than 10 minutes if all goes well. Lance is good people.

While Lance was talking to me, I was immediately transported back in time to Vietnam, where I took part in what was also supposed to me a short ‘in and out’ extraction mission. The mission turned into a firefight with the North Vietcong. We had engaged a small light infantry unit in a rice paddy on the outskirts of Da Nang. During the engagement I ended up taking a couple of 7.62mm AK-47 rounds in the gut. That firefight was only 10 minutes too. I remember it well. In an out in 10 minutes, my ass.

After Lance left, a shorter man identifying himself as a Doctor popped by and sternly cautioned me that I was not going anywhere, even if they could not operate on me tonight – they might just keep me overnight and do the surgery tomorrow. Then he was gone, just like Charlie slinking back into the evening shadows in Nam.

Back to the present day. I waited again, and shortly thereafter Christine the blood sucker came back and moved me to another room where I got a nice recliner hospital chair where I sat for about 5 hours. I played crib on my phone and watched the Flames win in OT against the Blackhawks on the big screen TV. During this time, three different nurses came and asked more questions and took more vitals. At midnight I was informed that a bed was ready for me.

A cute little blonde woman came with a wheelchair and whisked me to surgery. At the threshold to the surgical unit we came across the Surgical Unit Bridge Troll. She literally stood in front of us with her legs spread and her hands on her hips. She would not let us pass until the cute blonde woman gave her my charts and answered three skill testing questions.

Now I was handed off to Kim, the angelic night nurse. She doted on me and told me to rest until they were ready for me. The call came at 1 AM, and another nurse showed up with a wheelie bed and took me away from Kim. This new nurse took me to surgery where yet another (friendly Filipino) nurse in a gurney asked me more questions and wheeled me to the corridor. This was starting to look more serious. The Doctor  appeared there, hulked over a monitor intensely engrossed in what he was looking at. I reasoned that he was thinking about trying to offload some more stickers on me, but it turns out he wanted to make me bleed. Charlie!! I knew it.

I was wheeled into the operating theatre, where I met a super cute nurse and her angry looking cohort. And the Anaesthesiologist. When I tell you the Anaesthesiologist was the spitting image of Santa in would not be embellishing it all all. And he had Santa’s bubbly personality to match. Santa was going to make me sleep with the elves. Then I went bye bye.

I woke up in another room 2 hours later, and I noticed that Santa and his troop had stolen my underpants. I knew I shouldn’t have let them put me out like that. Damn it! If I had a nickel for every time I fell asleep in the park and woke up with my underpants missing. I was high. The nurse explained to me that the drug they had used on me was the ‘Michael Jackson’ drug, Propofol. Awesome sauce.

I got out of surgery at 3AM and immediately got the go ahead to head down to the cafeteria for a $20 cheeseburger and coffee. I went back to my bed and was informed that I now needed to wear Tena cheesecloth underpants now.

I’m in Depend undergarments before I hit 50. Bogus dude.

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