2 weeks ago, a couple of days before we headed to Vegas, I was overcome with horrendous pain in my right side, just along my back. I knew it was a kidney stone, I've had them before and it's a pain you're unable to forget. A day and a half later, I was feeling okay. But for most of the week following I was still having some issues, which I won't get into because it would totally be TMI.
This last Wednesday, as I sat waiting to pick up Emma from school, I felt that all too familiar twinge of pain in my back again. I got home, went straight to bed, and hoped it would feel better in a few hours. I woke up at 5 pm and knew something was not right.
My dear MIL had just passed her district testing, and was so relieved, so we had promised her a dinner out to celebrate. Not wanting to be a party pooper, I went along, probably as the worst company ever. But that night, as I was walking around moaning in pain, I gave in and told Sean to take me to the doctor.
This was a tough decision, because we don't have insurance. Yeah. I know. But it was that bad.
So we get there, and after a CT scan, which I'm sure will cost us dearly, they couldn't see a stone, but there was an obvious infection in my right kidney, probably from the stone a week before.
So I got some good pain meds, a couple of days of IV antibiotics, a catheter to help me pee (I know, TMI), and some Flomax (yes, like the old men have to take), and was sent on my merry way.
Here it is, Monday, and I am just now feeling better. Holy crap, I had no idea. No. Idea. I'm so grateful I had at least one working kidney through all of this, and I'm also thankful for pain meds. And my hubby, who is reluctant to leave my side. Ever. Even when I pee, because he's that interested in what my pee looks like. That's devotion.
So I'm all better today, thanks for asking. I had a shot of wheatgrass juice this morning, which will either kill me with the burps that come after, or wipe out what might be left of the infection. I'm hoping for the latter, for sure.