De-Stoned

Today I will have my kidney stone removed. Yeah! I am to report to the hospital at 11 am. Suddenly the urologist's office calls. The doctor is working ahead of schedule. Can I come right now? OK. I hurriedly call Andrea (bless her) and dress. We get there in record time. I am surprised that I am not more nervous. I guess I will just be relieved to be done with this pain.

I am distressed that the anaesthesia department prefers not to use my port. I have such a hard time with IV sticks. The nurse prepping me tells me that if she does not get in on the first stick, she will simply tell them she could not get a vein. I am content with that. She checks my arms. Seems my veins are coming back since the port has given them 4 years to recover. She has no trouble finding a good spot and has the needle taped in place almost before I realize it. Phew!

One of the pastors from Community of the Savior comes to be with me for a bit and pray with me. I am calmed by her presence. She is sweet and concerned. I am thankful for her prayers and for her touch. She cannot go with me to the pre-op area, and departs with promises to continue praying. Andrea and I are now in the staging area. Tons of people check in and ask questions.

The doctor comes, looks at the scan I had just an hour ago. Yes, the stone is still there. He takes a purple felt pen and makes a X on my left arm, just to mark which side the stone is on. Then he tosses the pen to Andrea with a grin. The anaesthesiologist comes to chat. His name is Andrew. He tells me how happy he is that the IV was possible. It is easier for them to control things if they have the larger access tubing available. I tell him I don't do well lying flat. He assures me they can keep me sitting up a bit. No problem.

Then they are wheeling me down the hall, tucking a net around my hair, strapping me to the operating table, putting an mask over my face. Just oxygen at first, then the odor changes and I start to feel floaty. Andrew peers down at me. Wanna hear a joke? OK. What do anaesthesiologists do all day? I don't know. They sit on soft stools and pass gas. What? Andrew is saying something else. Sorry for the burn. My arm and face suddenly feel like they are on fire.

I am trying to wake up. I can hear people talking. I think I am being moved. Someone says something about throwing up. I clear my throat. I can't quite get fully with it and I feel awful. They are sitting me up. I feel like I am being asked to do things I am not ready to do. OK, it will be fine. Just breathe. I see Andrea. I don't remember the IV being taken out. Now they are asking me to go to the bathroom and try to pee. Whoa - that burns like crazy. And the blood. E-gad. I ask the nurse if that is normal. Yes.

They offer a drink of ginger ale and a couple of crackers, but I am nauseous. They tell me to get dressed and Andrea goes to get the car. Wait! I don't think I am ready to be shoved out the door just yet. Don't I get a few minutes to collect myself? Apparently not. OK. Here we go. I sit in the wheelchair and find myself pushed down back hallways and around unused corners to a back door that I have never even seen before. This is weird. Am I still under the influence?

No. There is Andrea. Thank God for Andrea. I climb into the car and sink down. Let's go home. I am glad that's over, but I feel blicky. Last time I had a stone removed, they kept me over night. But that was in 2005. Things change. Andrea picks her way through the traffic and gets us safely home. I just want to sleep for awhile. Let's not do this again any time soon.