Sunday, December 21, 2003

DRINK MORE WATER



I promise I will drink more water from now on. Water is good for me, this I know, I know because the doctor told me so. He also tells me I drink too much alcohol.

So last night we hit up downtown Fort Worth, lotta drinking, and I end up crashing on the floor at Matt & Kevin’s place, good good. About noon I wake up and I wanted to scream. I’ve got this pain in my lower back on the left side that feels like someone’s stabbing me and just twisting the knife around. Like really really bad. So I’m thinking maybe I just slept like a drunk retard in some drunk retarded position on the floor and strained my back, I’ve woke up in pain before, just never like this. So hey, I’ve got three ultracets left back at home from my ankle, maybe I just need to go home and down those and sleep in a comfy bed. Man, I could barely fucking make it home, I almost had to pull over it hurt so bad. So I get home, take my meds and lay down, and immediately there’s a little bit of relief. I’m thinkin okay, maybe I’m just a big pussy and I pulled a muscle in my back, after all yesterday was the first day I played ball since the phantom ankle fracture.

I actually dozed off for about fifteen minutes, only to wake up and actually scream this time. This just about trumps any pain I’ve ever had before, I can barely walk, and when I do I’m all hunchbacked and moaning and whining. I look ridiculous. So Susan drives me to the ER, where I wait. And then wait some more. I’m in more pain, and I’m more moany whiny and hunchbacky. While waiting we’re discussing the possibility of alcohol poisoning, so I go to the bathroom and force myself to puke, and I’ll be a son of a fuck, I feel much better. So I’m all, “fuck this place, this people are dicks, I’ll be fine, screw you guys I’m going home.”

Wow, am I a genius. Practically the second I step inside the door at home it’s on again, about twice as bad as before.

Soooo…… Back in the car, back to the hospital, Hi remember me, I’m the guy that walked out and gave you all evil looks. Thankfully no wait this time, get me in a gay little gown, stick an IV in me, drain me of like two gallons of blood, and take my fucking credit card right there in the bed, yeah I’d like to start a tab.

But then it’s morphine time. And it takes me away to a better place, and I know that everything, know that everything, know that everything, everything’s gonna be fine. Wow. Heaven holds a sense of wonder, a distant ship’s smoke on the horizon, all wrapped up in one. Flash forward a couple hours and I’m all “I got to ride the CAT scan!! Woo Woo!!”

Now they’re telling me that my symptoms suggest that I might be passing a kidney stone, but the CAT scan didn’t show anything. Just please don’t tell me I’m pregnant.

So for my next trick, I let some guy who really didn’t want to be at work today inject me with a dye that will show up better on the x-rays, so now I have a glow in the dark urinary track. I asked the nurse if I could get a black light and flop my weiner around, but she said no.

The next two hours consist of me lying on a hard metal bed while they take five thousand and one x-rays. Score one for nuclear radiology. Short while later the Doc comes to tell me that yep, I’ve got a kidney stone the size of a pea, only it’s not smooth like a pea, it’s probably a jagged little sharp pain-inducing evil terrorist pea. This little suicide bomber’s been working it’s way down some tiny tube connected to my kidney, just scraping the fuck out of it and causing my labor pains and muscle spasms. He says it’s almost run it’s course and I should pass it in a few hours. Believe you me, I can’t wait. He said that once it reaches my bladder it’s likely to break up into much smaller pieces, possibly too small to be seen. I don’t care if I can see them or not, they just better be too small to feel.

So what causes these little devil stones to torture people like they do? Well I learned that diet plays a large in doing so. The two dietary factors that uh, stood out the most to me had to be dehydration and binge drinking. Ha! Say hello to my new lil friend, Water. Agua, giver of life, quencher of thirst, coolant of radiators. High quality H20, how I love you.

So for parting gifts I get a bottle of vicodin and a bottle with a strainer on top to piss in to try to catch myself a souvenir. I mean it might be kinda cool to have some big kidney stone that you passed through your system, I could name it, maybe I could buy it it’s own Malibu Kidney Stone Dream House, but I’d really rather not. I’d rather this get over with without me knowing about it, seeing it, and most definitely feeling it. If I ever saw some big bloody Grape-nut come out of my dick I’d probably pass out and piss all over myself.

I’ve been home for a while now, and still no Grape-nut. Wish me luck.