Monday morning, my cell phone rang as expected, my wife had her follow-up appointment with the doctor after her kidney stone was blasted the week before. One thing about Jen, she wears her emotions out on the sleeve - or in this case the airwaves - "Hey," she says, vvveeerryyy despondently. "They need to do another lithrotripsy." Great. One more round of pain and puking. "When?", I asked. "Tomorrow morning." Poo. Turns out the the first blast turned the BIG stone into a bunch of sand and three smaller stones. Smaller is relative. Not small enough to pass through, if you get the idea.
Just a small aside. Women say that passing a kidney stone is WORSE than having a baby. I've not done either, but I have seen two kids born and it looks and sounds like a great deal of work (that's why it's called labor, I guess). Anyhoo, guys do not like the idea of any type of discomfort when it comes to the plumbing. Having a hard, sharp object pass through a narrow sensitive passage in a particularly sensitive area creates a "wince factor" of about 9.9 on the Richter scale. Did I mention that my wife has my respect and admiration?
Anyway, Jen's parents graciously offered to come up and stay so Jen wouldn't be alone and I wouldn't have to miss work. Thanks guys! So the dreaded early morning routine was repeated exactly one week later, and the offending little stones were blasted into high heavens with sound waves (I know I liked loud music for some reason - cuts down on stones!). Without going into more detail the procedure was declared a success and the doctor announced that this would do it. Her recovery is 100 times better than last week. Eating pizza a few hours afterwards and napping peacefully were good signs.
So, the prospect for a regular weekend looks good. Yeah! I'm glad for my wife, she has had a bitch of a week, and the idea of a weekend without a bunch of discomfort is very attractive.
WH
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