Four days its been since I was admitted to the hospital for the removal of Cornelius, my beloved and detested kidney stone. I’ve now returned to work with eager anticipation to get on with my life and get past the urethral irritation and constant need to pee.
I went to the Hospital at 11:30 to get an X-ray of my abdomen so they could see where my stone was to work up the best procedure for extraction. There it was, in plain site, a one centimeter stone lodged in the upper part of my ureter (that’s the tube that connects the kidney and the bladder). At least it was visible and not hidden by some bone or piece of shit like last time.
While I was waiting for a copy of the X-rays, an old woman and her daughter walked by with a nurse and they were discussing the two casts on the old womans fingers. Turns out she was laying in bed sleeping, and her hand fell off the bed and into a metal fan. Broke both fingers. I couldn’t imagine the feeling, much less the sound that accompanied that.
So I’m finally admitted and told to trip strip down to my skibbies and get in bed. Naked and clad only in a piece of paper I laid in room that was cordoned off by privacy curtains. For some reason the room smelt kind’a like burnt popcorn and that weird disinfectant stuff they use at hospitals (for some reason I don’t think they use PineSol and saw dust to cover up vomit like they did at school.) The nurse came in and asked me the usual 20 questions “do you have an allergies to medications? do you have a history of diabetes in your family? blah blah blah.” Then she caught me off guard. “Are you wearing in finger nail polish?” I did a double take — “what?” “Are you wearing finger nail polish?” and she grabs my hands and looks. I was laughed and quiestly said no. Then she’s like “Any piercings?” as she looked towards my crotch and I laughed again and said no to which she responded “not into that sorta thing, I guess.” I was like “sorry.”