A note about comments. I love them, because I love hearing from you. Also, I just switched over my commenting to a new system. Older post comments might not be in the correct order, which means my replies are all jacked up. But I like the new system so whatever.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Sticks and Stone May Break Me

I passed a kidney stone. I named him Randy.

Okay, technically the stone only made it from kidney to bladder, but it was a long and tortured journey. It was like sitting on the interstate during morning rush hour, and no matter how fast you wish you were traveling, you just can't seem to make it very far very fast. Unlike the intestines, you do not have miles to travel from one organ to the next. There's about three inches between the kidney and bladder*. So why does it take so long? BECAUSE IT GETS STUCK. Sighs.

While I was laying on my death bed, wishing I had fresh sheets to die on, I debated if I would rather wait it out the hard way, or head to the hospital so they could torture me with shock therapy to break up the stone. The debate was pointless as not only was my phone in the other room, which was completely inconvenient I might add, but my cat was also trying to smother me with concern and fur. I wasn't moving anywhere. In the end, I stayed up all night moaning about the fact that I couldn't massage my right kidney because of all that damn skin and tissue in the way.

After finally passing out for about 20 minutes of sleep, my asshole alarm went off letting me know that I could either get my ass out of my apparently-not-death bed and face the day, or I could call in sick and feel sorry for myself. Oh right. The phone is in the other room. Guess who went to work then?

So now we wait. Randy will make his final exit any day now. I could speed up his journey with a visit to the hospital with the help of a catheter (not even if you paid me), or with home remedies like drinking olive oil with lemon (who does that!?), but I think I'll just wait it out. Randy will leave when he's good and ready.

Randy, I cannot wait to miss you.

PS. I'm fine. No need to worry about me. I've had kidney stones so many times I practically have a kidney stone farm. I own stock in kidney stones. I'm a professional kidney stoner.

PPS. Randy also goes by Randi or Randie, but never Randey or Randee.

PPPS. Don't bother giving me tips on how to pass the stone. I'm not looking for info. I'm just letting someone laugh at my pain, because someone should get to.

*Absolutely made up medical facts. I have no clue what the distance is between kidney and bladder, nor do I know the length of my intestine. Or yours. I could look that shit up, but that sounds like work.


  1. Suck it, Randy. See you on the other side.

  2. Every Randy is a total douche.

  3. I was hoping you named him Randee after Randee of the Redwoods the hippie MTV icon figure of the 1980s. Because he hung out in your nether region.

    but still...good riddance, fool. Let my girl feel better.


Leave a comment and I will dry hump your leg. Or take you for coffee. Your choice.

Sharing Is Caring Yo


Current Dance Party: