Sick! The Sequel
Question: what could possibly be worse than being knocked out for more than a week with consecutive illnesses, in this case a bout of the flu, followed by a mystery throat illness that temporarily wiped out half the population in the city of Amman, Jordan?
How about another ailment?
This occurred but a few days later, and it is one of those things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy (correct that, I would actually wish something worse, but I wouldn’t wish it on my buddies): kidney stones.
I have a little experience with these little buggers. Almost seven years ago, while as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, I had the misfortune to experience this. It starts with your urine trickling out more slowly than a glacier vs sloth race until you finally realize that, yes, there is pain to accompany said symptom. Certain things are not meant to fit through things. Golf balls are not meant to go through garden hoses. Watermelons were not created to fit through the drainpipe of a toilet. That’s where the stone and the urinary tract fit in.
I can’t claim to know what childbirth is like. Many women –my wife among them– have claimed that peeing out a kidney stone was supposed to be the equivalent to childbirth. I will never know if that is true, but all I can say is that the expression ‘excruciating’ for passing a kidney stone doesn’t quite cut it.
The difference this time? Experience.
I wasted no time getting it checked out, meaning that I actually had an option. Granted, this was not my Peace Corps site, either, where the humble health facilities would have made my choice much easier for me, meaning to pass it and suffer. I still felt blessed that the urologist would consult with me before deciding what to do.
The choices:
1.) Pee it out and experience man’s answer to childbirth all over again
2.) Have it surgically removed
Not a difficult choice, really. I signed myself into the hospital, was knocked out a mere few minutes after that and woke up with a pain in my abdomen that hinted at what might have been done below the belt. The night I spent in the hospital was by no means a picnic. The pain in my abdomen afforded little sleep, and I had to ask for a couple of painkillers before I was mercifully allotted a few hours of shuteye. Of course, it didn’t help that I had a catheter hooked up inside my willie that at least discouraged me from urinating.
Eventually, I was released less than 24 hours after I had checked in. Not bad at all. That same night, with the catheter removed, urinating would still sting, but I still swear up and down that this didn’t compare to passing the damn stone.
To any men out there: don’t be macho about this. I have done both, passed the stone and opted for surgery. I will opt for surgery the next time again, and with my luck that only seems to be a question of when.
Now on my road to recovery, I am still on antibiotics but feeling pleased about the whole situation.
And like my wife, I have still only experienced childbirth once.
How about another ailment?
This occurred but a few days later, and it is one of those things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy (correct that, I would actually wish something worse, but I wouldn’t wish it on my buddies): kidney stones.
I have a little experience with these little buggers. Almost seven years ago, while as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, I had the misfortune to experience this. It starts with your urine trickling out more slowly than a glacier vs sloth race until you finally realize that, yes, there is pain to accompany said symptom. Certain things are not meant to fit through things. Golf balls are not meant to go through garden hoses. Watermelons were not created to fit through the drainpipe of a toilet. That’s where the stone and the urinary tract fit in.
I can’t claim to know what childbirth is like. Many women –my wife among them– have claimed that peeing out a kidney stone was supposed to be the equivalent to childbirth. I will never know if that is true, but all I can say is that the expression ‘excruciating’ for passing a kidney stone doesn’t quite cut it.
The difference this time? Experience.
I wasted no time getting it checked out, meaning that I actually had an option. Granted, this was not my Peace Corps site, either, where the humble health facilities would have made my choice much easier for me, meaning to pass it and suffer. I still felt blessed that the urologist would consult with me before deciding what to do.
The choices:
1.) Pee it out and experience man’s answer to childbirth all over again
2.) Have it surgically removed
Not a difficult choice, really. I signed myself into the hospital, was knocked out a mere few minutes after that and woke up with a pain in my abdomen that hinted at what might have been done below the belt. The night I spent in the hospital was by no means a picnic. The pain in my abdomen afforded little sleep, and I had to ask for a couple of painkillers before I was mercifully allotted a few hours of shuteye. Of course, it didn’t help that I had a catheter hooked up inside my willie that at least discouraged me from urinating.
Eventually, I was released less than 24 hours after I had checked in. Not bad at all. That same night, with the catheter removed, urinating would still sting, but I still swear up and down that this didn’t compare to passing the damn stone.
To any men out there: don’t be macho about this. I have done both, passed the stone and opted for surgery. I will opt for surgery the next time again, and with my luck that only seems to be a question of when.
Now on my road to recovery, I am still on antibiotics but feeling pleased about the whole situation.
And like my wife, I have still only experienced childbirth once.
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