Kidney Stones

Awwwww. How cute. What a kind and polite anatomically correct use of medical terminology. Stones are fun for kids and grown-ups a like to hold and collect. And kidneys, aren’t those your pee makers? Well, I have got news for you, when one of those sleeping little “kidney stones” wakes up and decides to go on a road trip, aka fly the kidney coup, they become, “mother fuckers.” That’s what us stoners call them on the street. I just made that up. I don’t have a support group of “stoners” that I ran this blog by first.

If you’ve ever had a mother fucker, you know what I’m talking about. You feel me. You got me. 100%. Solidarity.

Because there is just no nice way to put into pleasing-for-your-conservative-grandma’s ears the amount of pain they cause. Trust me. I’ve experienced a crud ton of pain in my life, too. I always think it’s funny when someone reports on a pain scale of 1-10 that they are a “10.” You’re a 10? Really? You’re so cute. The only problem is you don’t kindly say a 10, you fuckin’ look a 10. You moan. You’re on the ground. You think it’s absolutely ridiculous that someone is trying to get you to “rate your pain” when you’re obviously dying. How fuckin rude. Actually, you feel like you’re in enough pain that maybe somebody should just go ahead and kill you. Yep. That kind of pain.

When a mother fucker aka “a kidney stone” decides to head to the next rest stop, aka your bladder, you can’t deep breathe. You can’t visualize anything except a cruel heartless person repeatedly stabbing you with his shady pocket knife. Over and over in your left lower back region. And he just won’t stop. There is no negotiating even though you have told him that you don’t carry cash and your bank account has “insufficient funds.” Why would you tell him that anyways? That’s too much information for a robber. This cruel asshole will not take “no” for an answer. He is just going to keep on stabbing you. Don’t try to lay down. Get back up. Nope. Hunch over. Yell “FUCK!” Get in some weird unspoken, awkward yoga pose. Just try your hardest to NOT feel like you’re dying. Even though you know you are. Good thing you got that life insurance. Did you mail the check yet?

Drink water. Throw up. Cuss. Pray and promise God you will do anything if he will just make the son-of-a-bitch arrest the mother fucker. What? It’s confusing when you don’t use medical terminology. I am going to let you know right now this is how Web MD describes kidney stone pain:

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“Waves of sharp pain…” Really, Web MD? I like waves. You know, those sparkling sun-kissed ocean waves. They’re relaxing and beautiful. How dare you describe kidney stone pain as peaceful like the ocean. Who are you, Web MD? Do you think it’s funny to lie to millions of people. Oh, it’s not lying when you water-down or sugar coat the truth? Don’t send me a bill for this visit because my insurance will not pay for your lies.

Don’t you know that you’re never supposed to consult the internet to learn about a medical diagnosis. Come on.

My description is so much more realistic. If you or someone you know ever “passes” a kidney stone, I’m so freakin sorry. Having a baby is way more fun. And so is having surgery.  Just tell yourself or your friend in the most sincere and genuine way, maybe with a tear drop in your eye,”Congratulations. I heard you had a mother fucker. Holy shit. I am so sorry. I’m glad you’re still with us.” Now make sure you get that life insurance check mailed, ok? To my knowledge, Hallmark hasn’t come out with this sort of medically inappropriate line of cards. Yet. We can all hope for the future of expensive thoughtful cards, right?

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