The Irony Stone
A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

 

Planes roared overhead as I deposited the wife in front of the passenger queueing area for her flight out of town.  Off she went with bag trailing behind, through various gates, turnstiles and governmental feel-up.  She always reminds them "There's a tip in it for you if you find a lump".  It may sound sound extravagant to some, but think of the money it saves in doctor visits.

 

I congratulated myself for the job well done; delivering her in one piece, on time, and well parted with a distant kiss and gentle wave.

 

Mwahahahahahah! When the cat's away the mice shall play and I relished having the house to myself for a goodly week at least! And thus I joyously retraced my steps through the terminal, imagining all the mischief one could get into. Why, there was late nite booze, bad horror movies, untamed showgirls prancing through the house like a scene from "8 1/5". Eagerly I piled into my car and into a trip ending in a drive through HELL!  

 

Funny, but there was an annoying sensation in my lower left side as though I'd strained a muscle or tried to smuggle a warm beer from the terminal in my shirt.  Perhaps lugging the wife's suitcase from the car pulled one thing or another or "Put a hitch in my gitalong," I hear-tell they say in places I'd rather not visit.

As if to remind me of my folly, the car seat pushed on this area and made driving home a bit of a bother, but as luck would have it, things were just getting warmed up.  By the time I reached the house, the pain had increased considerably and laying down only made me swear.  Soon, I couldn't stand upright and began shaking uncontrollably!  Clearly something was half past awry.

 

"CRAP!" I said at last deciding this was a job for Superman.  I finally get a few days to myself when the unseen overseer strikes me with calamity.

 

With great desperation, followed by a heavy dose of trepidation I drove myself to the local hospital emergency and hobbled to reception. Here, I explained what the hell was going on, to a receptionist who matter-of-factly exclaimed "Sounds like a kidney stone" as though she heard this story every day.

 

"Crap!" I repeated, but this time to myself.

 

There I sat, in a room with a never ending stream of overly dramatic, disease ridden, proletariat who came and went, came and went, and there I sat, moaning, and shaking like something from an old horror film. Filthy toddlers with bare feet and running noses came to stare, wide eyed, yet I hadn't the energy to swat them away like the flies they were.

 

Nearly two hours had passed when I was finally called into consultation which consisted of my laying on a table in a darkened room for yet another hour.  Laying was even worse than sitting and thus time extruded itself as I writhed on the table like a two bit hoochie, lookin' for a choochie.  At last a nurse appeared, and deigned to bless me with a whopping blast of morphine in my keister, and a round of x-rays.  Sure enough, there were two 8mm stones whom steadfastly refused to take the water slide out of the park.  But now, I somehow didn't mind. That shot made everything alright and I had not a lick of pain - anywhere.  I signed up for a lithotripsy a few days later. Time passed slowly bloated as I was on copious glasses of water.

I looked forward to the procedure, and eagerly signed into the hospital out-patient clinic. Yeh, you're down to a light gown and prompted like a trained seal to hop on a gurney to start your e-ticket ride down one busy corridor after another.

 

ExtracorporealShockWaveLithotripterHDESWL109In a minutes time, I was laying on a most uncomfortable table, surrounded by three gents who would play some part in the proceedings and a young lady whom the doctor claimed "Will be catheterizing you".

"Crap". Really, I mean who can argue with a young lady fiddling with your naughty bits? But if you're out cold - seems like such a waste.

 

The room was quite large, but filled all manner of electrical equipment like a space-age garage that give the Millenium Falcon a quick tune-up!

 

The gas-man appeared, gave a quick "Hello' and I was out in a heartbeat.

The great thing about medical procedures is that with any luck, you sleep through the entire process while someone else does all the work.

During the procedure there was a rift in the tube - them stones shared the same fate as Tatooine and were no more!

 

And such it was I awoke in a quite room down the hall and shortly discharged to spend a day recouping. . . .

 

Just in time to pick the wife up from the airport.