So, several months ago I woke up feeling a mild lower back pain. I didn't think anything of it, I figured that it would go away. It didn't. It stated hurting more and more. I tried everything I could think of to make the pain, which was now getting bad, go away. Icey hot. Tiger Balm. Ice. Heat pads. Lit candles around the area, put out by putting a glass cup over them, creating super suction--yeah, don't ask. In fact everything short of magic spells. Nothing worked. The pain had gotten to the point where I'd roll around in bed, biting blankets, and trying to fight back tears. Like that. So I did what I hated doing...I went to the Doctor. Now, I have good insurance, but I stay as far away from doctors, hospitals and physicians as humanly possible.
As I sat in the room waiting for Dr Quack, PhD...the smell of latex gloves and unknown shenanigans permeating the air...I wondered if I really wanted to know what was wrong. No. I didn't. Not really. But I HAD to get some pain medicine.
"Now, Mr. Cholo, on the scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the most pain you've ever felt in your life, how bad does it hurt?"
"Wow. That's a tough one doc. You see, I've endured a hella (yes, that's a word) lot of pain in my life. I'd say about a 7 or 8."
"Well, I'm sorry but we at this facility (IHC Care Center) are not allowed to give pain medicine."
For a moment I thought of getting that stethoscope and wrapping it around his prehistoric neck and watching his leg twitch and spasm and he yielded me his last breath...but then I realized, I still didn't have any pain medicine. So I tried to explain (in vain) to him that it was REAL pain. The kind where I even thought of punching my kids when they came into my room during one of my moments of agony. I told him that I wasn't a pill popper or druggie. I told him that I had been to the doctor about 3 or 4 times in nearly a half century and that included the day of my birth! The bastard wouldn't budge. He said that the best he could do for me was give me some Tylenol (yeah, Tylenol) that I could pick up at the local Wamart pharmacy. I stood up and told him to exit the room and make way...that was the gist anyway, very much harsher language was used.
Turns out after going to a private doctor-after them finding blood in my urine sample, and getting a CT Scan (after they injected some sort of hot fluid/dye that I felt travel through my veins and collect in my groin area)- I found out that I had kidney stones. Aha! Believe me when I tell you that those tiny meteorites ripping through my plumbing on their way to the pool was enough to make me almost tear up NOW just remembering the experience. And the funny thing is (it's actually not funny at all) that they gave me some kind of giant ice cream cone shaped thing with a fine mesh bottom to catch the critters, as piss splashed everywhere except through the filter. I suppose they sit and giggle amongst themselves in the break room as they picture grown mean crying while attempting this. Bastards!
So, why am I sharing this? Hmm. I don't know. Maybe because I had nothing else to say? Sad thing is, even after going through this excruciating ordeal, if asked the same 1 to 10 question, I'd still rate it as a 7 or 8. lol.
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