The Stones

Not them.

"You Can't Always Get What You Want," I suppose.

That is to say, to maybe not be in pain.

I felt...something Friday night. Maybe it was back pain. Whatever it was, something was up as soon as I finished eating dinner.

OK, I'd sleep it off. No big deal.

But, Saturday arrived and I still felt pain in my back. Or, was it in...

No...please, God, no...

Was the pain in my kidneys?

F***...

I have experience with kidney stones. The first time was in 1997. It struck while I was Christmas shopping in White Plains with pain like I've never known in my life. Fearing all kinds of things, I made my way to Phelps Memorial Hospital in Sleepy Hollow (was it still North Tarrytown then? I don't remember).

The nurse looked at me. Then she spoke.

"Robert," she said, "now you have a vague idea of what childbirth is like."

It's like pushing an elephant through a straw.

I spent a chunk of that night in the hospital and stayed home from work the next day. I graduated from college that Sunday in, true to form, a completely forgettable ceremony and experience.

Thirteen years later, on the exact same weekend, I woke up in the middle of the night with intense pain. Again. I fought through the night, watching TV and sleeping just a little. My cousin came over to fix my brakes in the garage. I thought that would take my mind off of it.

He and my mother both knew I needed to go to the hospital. Again. It kept me away from going to see Christmas lights with Sean, whom I sent with the rest of the family as I drifted off thanks to Tylenol with codeine. Weeeeeeeeeeee...zzzzzzzzzzz...

I've had occasional pain ever since the first bout in '97 that immediately has me rushing to drink all of the water I can find.

This time was, thankfully, nothing like either of those. I cleaned the workroom on Saturday, mindful of not working too hard to avoid stress on my back. Again, I wasn't sure if it was back pain and I'm sparing you further details that had me questioning what was going on.

The pain persisted into Saturday night. On Sunday morning, well, all I can say is there's a certain sensation that tells you you've gotten rid of such a thing. Some times it's more, shall we say, pronounced.

There was a feeling of, "Oh. Yeah, I think that was it." Not pain. Definitely not pleasure. Just... "Oh."

And the pain was pretty much gone after.

So, yes, my money is on a small kidney stone, as I feel fine tonight.

This was, honestly, nothing, compared to the events of 1997 and 2010.

Which sort of felt like Kramer on Seinfield.

Which is what I think of every time I conjure the notion of passing a kidney stone.

YAH!

This time, I got...er..."Satisfaction."