So after my kidney stone incident last Wednesday, I was doing pretty good. I was really excited and thinking that I was all in the clear...so I went to work on Friday. By the end of the shift, I wanted to seriously die. It was traumatic for me. But I made it through and thought that after resting I'd be okay. This was not the case at ALL. Saturday the stent began to take its revenge for me killing the stone or something. My kidney/ureter really, really started to hurt. So I had to take my pain pills. This meant that I was too high to go to work. So I had to waste my sick days on this crap. And it continued to get WORSE. All day Sunday I thought that I was going to die. I was ready to stab a knife into myself to see if somehow that would help. I almost went to the ER just to get IV pain medicine because I just couldn't take it. I had to miss yet ANOTHER day of work. I'm really upset about it. We are going in to the doctor first thing in the morning to see if there is something else wrong or if I just have to wait it out. I feel like a wuss, though. And people at work are probably rolling their eyes at my sick days. But I seriously can't help it. I am officially cursing anyone who is thinking that I making up this kind of pain to get out of work. Yes. I am cursing you to get kidney stones. Ha, ha! I seriously don't want to miss work because I need the money. And nothing is worth this pain. Nothing.
Okay. So I am hurting and bitter. I'm in so much pain that I can't sleep. Plus, the pain and pain meds are making me nauseous and I am puking a lot. I can't eat and I can't move and my pee comes out in painful spurts. I am officially miserable. I can't imagine what people used to do about kidney stones before surgery. They probably killed themselves. I know that I would have. Just know that you never, ever want to have this experience.
Some Thoughts About Kidney Stones and Life...
Kidney stones have taught me the meaning of agony. From them, I have also learned the limits of my own weak self. I've often wondered how I would withstand great pain. I mean the pain of the body, that which registers on the nerves, not that of loss or deprivation that ravishes our emotional life, but true physical pain. I have often thought highly of my tolerance to physical pain. I have endured broken bones, torn tendons, sprained ankles, pulled muscles, etc. But the pain from kidney stones is in its own separate pain category.
After having had kidney stones once, I have thought about what it would be like to suffer that pain again. When the pain came, would I behave with some amount of stoicism and even grim humor, like the protagonists in Hemingway novels whom I so admired? Or would I moan and howl in sounds far beyond intelligible human speech like some of my patients?
Who would have thought that such excruciating pain could come from something as tiny as a ureter-- certainly a person wouldn't even be aware that they possessed such a thing as a ureter until a bit of solid matter larger than the ureter's diameter attempted to pass through them on a painful, shearing journey to the outside world.
The unknowing victim has no idea what he/she is about to experience as this crystal breaks off from the kidney and descends into the ureter. A sudden, fiery shot of pain shoots through your side. It is like someone has stabbed you with a sharp, fine blade. But no simile can adequately describe this pain, it can only be experienced to be understood. We can know the concrete causes of this pain, like the pressure of the urine that is dammed up and backing up on the kidney causing damage to the kidney itself and the splitting of the flesh in the ureter from the sharp edges of the stone, but the resultant pain is an abstraction. And like all abstractions it lies beyond the precise grasp of language. We simply don't have the words. We have trouble, then, describing our own pain and another's pain, even when it manifests itself in grimacing or writhing. Ultimately it remains metaphysical -- something to doubt. And when you are the person experiencing this indescribable, abstract, human experience and there are people around you that are doubting it...it becomes infuriating.
It is these experiences that remind me that I cannot judge another person. I cannot adequately judge their pain or their human experience or their actions or ANYTHING. The same way that I don't want people to judge me or to think that they understand what it is that I am experiencing. How can anyone judge how pain feels to someone else?
With these kidney attacks that I have been continuing to survive (because yes, each episode is most definitely something to be survived, and I am barely able to do so), I try multiple relief methods. First, I go for the drugs. But there is a time delay in the ingesting of said medicine and the actual relief. Ice packs have proven to be more effective than the heating pads. I have tried pacing, hot baths, breathing exercises, imagining myself in a serene environment. I massage my side and twisted this way and that, but no amount of repositioning or rubbing can relieve the sharp, fiery blade shooting through the small tunnel in my abdomen. It nearly equals the spectacular sensation of bringing a hammer down upon your thumb, but that is brief in comparison, a few minutes of localized agony that then settles into a bearable throbbing. The pain in the side from kidney stones is not just severe, but unrelenting: a continuous deep gnawing coupled with hot and cold sweats, nausea and other blades of pain that radiated throughout the confused coils of my digestion, causing more mischief there.
Even though I know that nothing will work, I continue to search for that miracle trick for pain relief. I bit my fist, I rub my temples, I swear out loud. I often find myself repeating "I just wish that I was dead." I think that at least I wouldn't be in that pain anymore. I have even contemplated causing myself a serious injury somewhere else in my body just to be a distraction from this stabbing side pain. At one point, I curled up on the floor like the fetus I wished then to be. But no measure I took lessened the pain. I just have to endure it until my pain medicine kicks in.
I do have one very wonderful thing working for me....Spencer. What a sweetheart. I think that I would just die without him. He has been so wonderful throughout this whole ordeal....BOTH times. He has been so patient with me. I am very grouchy and short-tempered when I am in pain (even more so than usual). The thing that works the very best is when he rubs lotion on my body. For some reason, along with all of this pain and discomfort in my side, my whole body feels like it is on fire. I think that it might be the medicine or something. It makes me itch, first of all. But in addition, my skin feels like there is something toxic in it. Not to mention that my muscles are tight from contracting with the pain. I don't know why muscles do that (tighten in a feeble attempt to relieve pain), but it doesn't work and actually causes more pain. On top of which I have a ghastly headache from the medicine and vomiting and pain. My whole body just aches.
Spencer is such a sweetheart. He rubs yummy-smelling lotion all over my body. It is so completely soothing and refreshing. It also helps to distract from the pain. It is the perfect solution to helping me endure until the medicine begins to take the edge off of the pain shooting down my side. And somehow, just having someone be there with you and holding you and cheering you on through the painful episode is so very helpful. I think that this is part of the reason for Lamaze classes. It really does help to have someone on your side, supporting you through something painful.
Finally, the pain starts to subside. And I can begin to feel like I am not actually going to die from the pain. The worst part about this, however, is the peculiar despair that I hold in my heart. I know that this is only temporary. And I know that this is not the last painful episode that I am going to have to endure. The relief that I feel, and pure elation in having that horrific pain subdued, is tainted by knowing that this is only a temporary release....that the pain, yes THAT pain, is going to return in all its fury. I try to push this foreboding to the back of my head and enjoy this time that I can actually think and function.
The pain medicine comes with its consequences, however. It doesn't take long for it to throw me into a fit of dry-heaving and vomiting. It also causes me a severe headache. Typically, headaches are difficult for me to tolerate. But when they are so closely compared to the kidney pain, they seem like trifles on the pain scale.
This whole experience puts Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs Theory into perspective. Something like a tiny (and I mean tiny) rock turned my whole world upside down. Everything in life becomes unimportant and obscure. The only thing that exists is the pain. And the only thing that matters is relieving that pain. This pain reduced me to a single inflamed nerve and little more. After it was gone, my self returned but an eerie feeling stayed with me. Our psychology, our spirituality, the value systems by which we live are only possible in the absence of ill health or pain. Our essence disappears into great pain, revealing all that we hold dear to be the most fragile of luxuries. Essentially, we typically function on a higher level of Maslow's pyramid. But pain and illness can knock us down from that level very easily. We can be going along striving to achieve self-actualisation and all of the sudden we turn to a primitive version of ourselves, seeking only to satisfy our basic needs. I have seen this happen in a variety of situations. Take for example, a pregnant woman. When she gets hungry, watch out! There is nothing that will come between her and food. Each time that I have had kidney stones, I have gone to extreme lengths to get it taken care of. I have acted unlike myself and been pretty pushy about getting taken care of. That is what pain will do to you.
The scary thing about illness/pain, is that it is almost completely out of our control. Anyone can become very seriously injured or ill at any moment. There is nothing that can be done to guarantee the prevention of poor health. In my profession, I see it all of the time. You'll be just going through life and then the floor literally falls out from beneath you and your whole world changes. And then you find yourself at the bottom of the pyramid wondering what in the heck just happened and how you are going to meet your basic needs.
Sorry to get all philosophical. I have a lot of painful time on my hands. Here is a copy of Maslow's pyramid.
Please pray that I will never get these again. And pray that I will be able to go back to work so that I can pay all of my bills. And feel free to send me money for my kidney stone foundation.
