No, but the Suspence is Killing Me...

This morning I was rocketed awake by the lights of my bedroom being violently flicked on at 6:30am. Most mornings, even the mornings where I don't have to get up early, like this particular morning, I'm generally not that annoyed by being jolted awake because there is nothing better that going back to sleep after a brief interruption. I was preparing myself to fall into that wonderful deep sleep when my poor husband announced that he was sick.

Apparently he was jolted awake at 5:00am because nature was calling and after passing blood in his urine and then continually feeling the urge to go, but with no results, decided that at 6:30am, he should tell somebody before he left for work.

I immediately sprang into action, firing up our Dell to hit up the symptom checker on WebMD.com. "You've got a bladder infection" I told him, almost giddy at the thoughts of being an Internet doctor.

I once had a bladder infection, back in high school. It was the sickest I've ever felt; constantly having to pee, yet it hurt like hell to force out the liquid and on top of that feeling like you're going to vomit at any moment. But Husband was in no pain and with that instructed me to locate a doctor (as he doesn't go to the doctor, ever) and he would try to go this afternoon. Little did he know that in a matter of sheer minutes, he would be telling a different story.

Like a good wife, I found the number to the local medical practice in town that he had mentioned wanting to go. I had written said number on a purple post-it note and carried myself and the note back to bed. The office didn't open until 8 o'clock and since Husband was feeling fine, no big deal right? I set an alarm and began to try to sleep.

Not five minutes into my sleep I get a call from Husband, a little more panicked, reminding me to make an appointment. Five minutes after that I get another call from Husband instructing me to get out of bed because "we are going somewhere, I don't care where, but get the hell up-- I think I might have Kidney Stones." With that I sprung into action, again.

Now, it must be said, my husband lives in fear of Kidney Stones like I live in fear of Hemorrhoids (I capitalize their names out of respect). My husband's father is a long time sufferer of KS and the pain has been so horrific that at times, my father-in-law has been reduced to a weeping puddle of nerves laying on the floor riving around in agony. The horror stories he can tell about these little renal rocks send shivers down the spine of any man I know. I understand and respect my husband's fear of these little pee pebbles because for as long as I can remember the chronic illness at my home has been the Hemorrhoid (or as my father described it to me once: "it feels like you have this thumb on the outside of your ass hole"-- enough said, I don't want 'em).

So I'm springing into action-- I'm reading myself as quickly as possible. I make a quick call to my mom to ask where the closest Urgent Care's happen to be in each surrounding town/city. Husband busts through the door, riving around in pain and pale as a ghost. He quickly dashes into the bathroom for a quick shower, as he was covered in dirt (from laying on the ground and rolling around during the attack) and sweat (from the sudden and unexpected pain). Within minutes we are in my sad little car heading for the nearest help.

The pain is bad enough that we decide to just go straight to the local emergency room at the nearest "hospital" (more like Band-aid station). I hate hospitals and I especially hate emergency rooms-- especially this one. The floor is dirty and there are sick people everywhere. I'm generally not a germ-a-phobe but suddenly I'm very aware that Swine Flu is making a huge comeback in our area and I start profiling the people all around us. I start listening carefully for any tidbits of their private conversations to see if they might be caring the dreaded virus. I suddenly feel stupid for wearing Jack Rogers sandals-- Hubby had on flip-flops-- we were practically barefoot just centimeters away from dirty, germy hospital floor.

Hubby's pain was much, much better once we got to the ER. His color started to return, but since we were already contaminated with ER germs, we decided to just stay-- and if the pain was to return the doctor's office would send us right back to the ER anyway. About 45 minutes of waiting, more like watching the other patients, especially the suspicious man with the medical mask, we were called back. It was just like ER (the TV show) but dirty. My husband was directed to lay on a bed that was curtained off from the other moaning patients. A young Yankee doctor came by and told him what to expect.

Long, long story short. Hubby has a 2 to 3 mm stone just above his bladder that he will have to pass. Apparently Kidney Stone's only hurt when they move, so until this little rock decides to travel towards the light, Hubby probably will feel just fine. They told him to drink plenty of liquids, gave him prescriptions for pain killers and antibiotics and sent him on his way.

We now are waiting for the renal rock to make its self known. And as Kramer (from Seinfield) said when asked if he had passed his stone, "no, but the suspense is killing me"-- we completely understand where he is coming from.