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That day I thought I was dying and my husband ate Jack-in-the-Box

January 31, 2013

I'm here to tell you, never underestimate the power of a kidney stone. It's not something you wanna poke fun at because the kidney stone karma will be sure to come bite you in the ass and make your husband do weird things.

I woke up today, prepared for a normal Wednesday. Surely there would be Starbucks, there would be crazy happenings at work, really bad cafeteria food and there would be procrastination at its finest because I'm a pro at that...there would not, however, be kidney stones. Or would there?

I was feeling kinda crappy around 6:15 and thought it was probably a result of the infamous PMS. The cramping would stop soon. I've got my big girl panties on, I'm almost 30, surely I can handle cramps.

But then there was vomit. Vomit doesn't happen with my PMS.

Then there was cold sweats, shaking and light headedness. Something was wrong, yo.

I called my folks (husband was already at work 45 min away) and informed them I was on the bathroom floor dying, therefore I wouldn't be able to take Kman to the sitter. Cause unless you have some kinda super mommy power, it's pretty hard to drive when you're dying.

Within minutes they showed up at my house to find me shaking, crying and white as a sheet....or is the word sheep? Huh.

So my mom promptly got me dressed, which simply meant a hoodie over my pajamas with a pair of crocs. No bra. No deodorant. No teeth brushed, just straight up raw. I looked gooood.

My dad drove 90 miles an hr to the hospital while I was moaning and crying the whole way. Why the fuck do we have to live in BFE when I'm clearly dying?  Twenty-five minutes to the hospital is way too long.

I don't know about you but when I'm in that much pain, I'm not so much into sitting and waiting for my turn to check in.  I made that clear the minute I walked wheeled in.  I got to a bed pretty quick and demanded those pain killers that make the pain stop within minutes.  I know about these meds because this wasn't my first trip to the ER, unfortunately.  I've been there for gallstones, twice, and then in November for that crazy kidney infection that felt exactly like back labor. 

Anywho, they had me hooked up to the IV and started the meds fairly quickly.  Ahhhh the happy meds,  oh how I love them.  They have an odd way of making you feel like you weigh 400 pounds but man, they really do wonders within minutes. 

I was pretty in and out of it, thankfully.  Somewhere in there, my mom showed up and my dad left.  Then shortly after that my husband showed up.  It was like I was being passed off from person to person except they were doing the passing, I was doing the sleeping thing. 

As quick as the meds started working, they wore off just as fast.  I sat up in the bed and said, I'm gonna puke.  I threw up four times as my husband was walking in.  I'm sure it was extremely attractive of me. In walks husband.  Wife vomits uncontrollably.  Good times.

We finally received word that I would be having a CT scan soon to see what the problem was.  I was now so far gone on pain meds, nothing seemed to matter.  All I wanted was to lay there and sleep away the pain. 

Before I harp on the husband, I will say this: in his defense, I told him he could leave for a while because I was clearly about to be knocked the hell out.  Why should he just sit there, in a dark room, just to watch me sleep?  I didn't see any point in it.  I told him to go get some fresh air, maybe eat something and come back later.  I knew I'd be fine.

They wheeled me back to my room after the CT scan and I thought, "how odd, I smell onions and mustard, surely I'm mistaken."  Nope.  Not mistaken.  The husband absolutely went out for fresh air and food but thought it would be okay to eat in the room?  Are you freakin kidding me, husband?  I just puked last nights supper, four times over and you're bringing your full combo meal from Jack-in-the-Box back into the room?  Awesome.  Just awesome.

I know I gave him The Look because he said, "oh did you want a bite?" 

Maybe it was because he missed the drama and severity of the early morning, when I was actually dying.  Maybe it's because he doesn't know how to coup in these type situations and didn't know what else to say, or maybe he just really thought I wanted in on that mustard and onion deliciousness.  Whatever the reason, I wasn't happy.  I promptly vomited again and just laid down.

What seemed like hours later, which I know it was probably only 30 minutes later, the doctor came in and said, "Samantha, you're the proud owner of a 4mm kidney stone."

Proud isn't the word I had in mind.  At. All.  I don't think I wanna own the kidney stone, period.  He said I have an 80% chance of passing it on my own in the next three days.  I'll obvs be having to strain my pee and be on a close look out for this little gem.  Good.  Sounds like exactly what I wanna do for the next 3 days.  Exactly.

The hospital part of the story ends here.

The husband takes me home in addition to a quick stop at CVS to fill my four, yes four, prescriptions. 

I was still feeling pretty doped up at this point.  I mean, how could you not when they had an IV going for 5 hours, giving you every pain med under the moon?  I was keeping to myself in the car.  Keeping my eyes shut, trying my best to not puke again.  I was also thinking to myself how broken I was.  This was like my eleventh trip to the ER in the past 13 months.  Not quite 11, but you get the point.  I've had gallbladder issues, twice, thyroid issues, kidney infections, spleen issues and now this.  FML.  Plus, one of the low points of my day was, I had the same doctors and nurses as last time and they remembered me.  Let's just call this what it is, I'm broken at 29.5 years of age.

We were allllmost home.  Almost able to crawl into my very welcoming bed when Charles says, "what's wrong now?"  I looked over at him with confusion.  I said, "what do you mean by now?  Do I look extra pale?  Is there something I'm not seeing?"  He said, "no, you're just being really quiet like you don't feel good or you're mad."

You don't say.

I had no words for this comment.  Nothing.  I mean, what the hell do you say to that?  Is he really saying this?  It didn't stop there.  He put his hand over on my leg, smiled, and said, "you know, you're kinda falling apart on me.  You aren't even 30 and we've been to the ER how many times now?" 

Awesome. 

I slept for 3 hours when I got home.  It was glorious.

Ladies and Gents, this is pretty much where my story of the day I almost died, ends.  Am I exaggerating when I say I almost died?  Yes, probably a bit but I'm currently under the influence of many many medications and I'm having to strain my pee because my body is broken.  Life doesn't get much better than this.

As a side note: Charles did offer to help with the straining thing.  He's coming around after all.

Don't worry about me being on the road or out and about tomorrow.  I'm keeping my ass at home, drinking an obscene amount of liquids and getting this fucking kidney stone out of me.  I refuse to let 30 be the new 60 for me.

Thanks for listening to my rediculously long story about my day.  I heart my readers.

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