The Road To Tennessee - Part III

After weeks of pushing to prepare for my move I paused, allowing myself a day to work on my book. Feeling as if I were treating myself to a leisurely day I drove to one of my preferred coffee shops to order lunch. After eating I began the task of banging out pages only to be struck later in the day by mild stomach cramps. It wasn’t like food poisoning but the ache in my stomach was a definite nuisance. For nearly an hour I struggled to continue writing but then grew fearful of pushing myself too hard. Not wanting to sink any further into the quicksand of my fatigue I gathered my things, hurried to my car and drove home. It was my intention to unwind and have dinner but the ache in my stomach seemed to be growing more intense. Within two hours a sharp pain had developed on my left side. I suspected an appendicitis but quickly tossed out the idea after a quick Internet search revealed the appendix is on the opposite side. At this point I broke out in a sweat even though, to the touch, my face was cold and clammy.

I can safely say I was officially panicked. I began brainstorming whether I should call 9-1-1 or simply drive myself to the ER [about five miles away]. I elected for the latter and quickly hopped in the car. It was 9:30 at night. It wasn’t especially warm outside but I was sweating nonetheless. I rolled down my windows and opened the sunroof allowing the wind to soothe my forehead and cheeks. During the brief drive I phoned my cousin to inform her of what was going on. By the time I arrived at the ER I was bowled over by a sharp and intense pain.

Roughly ninety minutes after my arrival I was wheeled in for an MRI only to learn I had an 8mm kidney stone that had probably just been ejected from my kidney. No one in my family had ever had a kidney stone that I know of so I was in completely unfamiliar territory. The doctor informed me it was extremely unlikely that an 8mm stone would pass on its own, which left me with two options:

#1, have a urologist send a fiber optic camera with pincers up my urethra and through my bladder into the ureter to retrieve the stone. This sounded very unpleasant to say the least. One of the nurses even made a snide comment about Roto-rooter.

The other option, #2, was to have lithotripsy, a procedure involving ultrasound where the stone is obliterated by sound waves. This would only be possible if the stone was located in a particular portion of the ureter. Luckily for me, it had likely just exited my kidney in the coffee shop so lithotripsy was still an option. The only catch was I would have to wait 5 days to have the procedure. Needless to say three days later I found myself once again in the ER totally overcome with pain and vomiting from the nausea. I later learned that my cousin’s daughter had suffered a kidney stone and the intensity of pain, in her words, was “worse than labor pain.”

The fascinating thing about the whole experience in that ER was that even in the clutches of my pain I could feel the malaise of the previous month lifting. I was in the waiting room nearly in a fetal position but somehow I felt better. The cloudiness in my head and the fatigue seemed to instantaneously disappear. Just days after the procedure the heartburn and the palpitations also subsided and I quickly realized what had occurred after that massage. I’ve always been told tense muscles trap toxins such as lactic acid. Those toxins are released when the tension is broken by massage. The massage after Tennessee had released toxins into my blood but my left kidney was impacted and wasn’t functioning properly to filter them. Once the stone was released, many of my symptoms resolved only to be replaced by the intense pain of the stone being trapped in the ureter.

A few days later I completed the lithotripsy procedure with only three weeks to spare until my move. Thankfully I am writing this blog from my new address. As Shakespeare once wrote “All’s Well that Ends Well.”