A couple weeks ago, my hubby started having pain in his back, coming around to his abdomen. I just knew from his description that he had a kidney stone. The thing is, he’s due to get insurance through his work after his 60 day probationary period, which is this Saturday. He also didn’t want to take time off work because he doesn’t want to tarnish his perfect work record with his new employer. For the past couple weeks, he’s been doing 10 hour shifts… bending, lifting, twisting and the like- he’s in manufacturing.
The only kind of treatment he’s had since this started is massages with Ben Gay, lots of water, a heating pad, and some Darvocet I had on hand. (yeah, yeah… don’t gripe about me sharing my drugs. I know it’s a no-no.)
He said his back pain was gone a couple days ago, but he felt like he was peeing razor blades. Again, I begged to take him to the Hospital for the Poor and Uninsured. And again, no dice. He said he wasn’t in agony, and furthermore, he would wait until he got insurance.
So this morning, I’m sitting here reading the Dope when he gets up to take his morning pee.
Him: “Oi! Holly!”
Me: “What, sweetie?”
Him: “I’ve just passed a kidney stone!”
Me: <rushes into see it> “Get the tongs. We have to retrieve it.”
Him: <confused puppy look>
Me: “I have to take it to the doc’s office so it will be analyzed!”
Him: <leaves room, comes back and attempts to hand me the tongs>
Me: “Well I’m not pulling it out! It’s your stone.”
So he carefully pinched out the stone with the tongs, and placed it in the sandwich bag I held open. I must say, I’m in awe of my Scotsman. He had this jagged hunk of crystallized minerals moving through his ureter and his urethra and all he wanted was a damned back rub and a couple Darvocet?! I know lots of people who’ve been in the same situation and they have either prayed for death or said the pain was worse than childbirth.
Some years ago, I worked at a medical reference lab. I’ve seen all sorts of kidney stones come in for analysis. Huge ones that were extracted via surgery, tiny ones resembling the smallest grains of sand… And lots that were in between. My hubby’s stone wasn’t huge, but it was by no means small. And as I sit here looking at it, I am truly impressed by his tolerance for pain. At the same time, I’m horrified that he could dismiss it and not seek medical attention. For god’s sake, he’d probably assume he had gas if he’s really having a heart attack.
I told him that after his insurance is in full effect, he will go see the doctor and get everything checked out. Even the dreaded prostate exam (which he swears will never happen). I also told him that he most likely has more stones in his kidney, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. And he will be treated for them, come hell or high water. Even if I have to force him.
