ladies came in to whisk me away to another room with a scale and a lone chair that reminded me of lethal injections… but the condemned lie down to get those. This room was a bit more spacious but still had boring pictures on the wall. I think it was supposed to be a fence, or fence posts in a fog on a field by a beach or something. I wondered if this was supposed to be soothing while people got their shots or lose copious amounts of blood. I normally don’t have a problem with needles, but these women kept up on the anticipation like the day after a good TV show has a season finale or the last hour of work before a long weekend.
The first woman was showing the second woman how to draw blood. So automatically I’m thinking, Oh great… I’m her first? She’s going to stab me to death or take too much… blood will shoot everywhere and it will look like a Saw movie. Or she will accidently stab me in the bone like the last time I got a shot. But that wasn’t the case. The professional was just showing her how it’s done. Meanwhile she got me worried because she had a hard time getting the correct blood vessel to bulge up like it’s supposed to after tapping it several times. I had only seen this done in movies regarding heroin attacks, but I never knew why. But that didn’t stop her professional warpath and her intent on getting my precious life oil and feeding her blood drawing high.
I learned how to brace myself with the initial stabbing. It’s not so bad because it only lasts less than a second. I usually think of marshmallows thanks to yet another previous needle experience when everything reminded me of sharp pointy objects until a doctor said, “How about Marshmallows?” “Marshmallows?” I repeated. Stab. Anyway, I never had blood drawn before. I didn’t know how that would feel. What I also didn’t know was how many vials of my blood they were going to take. For what they needed, they filled up about three tubes. After looking at them, I wondered… don’t I need that? And do you really need that much and that many tubes? But whatever, it’s gone now. They have done their damage. I can go home. And I was released.
I learned later that some people get cookies or yummy snack after they get blood drawn. Or they eat something before. I didn’t. I wish I did. But I didn’t expect to get blood drawn. I didn’t go there for that. And people usually get cookies for donating, not giving against their will. Kinda like paying taxes, it’s not really a choice. I felt a little sick after leaving. It could’ve also been the sight of needles. That happens to me too sometimes. I also later had the hugest bruise where they took my blood. I guess I bruise easily. But this didn’t look like I was punched or anything… but it was nasty and startled me. Like a very big and angry spider decided to crawl into my arm and live under my skin for a few days.
Then came the doctor’s greatest mind trick of a waiting game: the results. I had to wait about 4 days until I called the doctor to get my test results. I really couldn’t wait for them to call. The good doctor gently informed me that I probably have a mild case of kidney stones and to drink plenty of water to flush them out. He told me it should take about a week, so just hang in there and if no change after a week, to give him a call and see what to do from there.
I definitely felt better with that news. Between those times, however, I had been told by my mother, grandmother, aunt (who was a nurse), best friends, the mailman, Wikipedia, a zookeeper and practically everyone I knew to drink plenty of water. Even after the doctor talked to me, I had people telling me to keep drinking the water. During these trials, every so often I would have a “clear spot” and I’d pee pale but I wouldn’t get too excited because the next day it went red again. I went back to my online research to get more info and remedies to combat my ailment. I had to drink plenty of liquids, including orange juice or anything with citrus. I also cut back on cheese or anything with milk. I love my dairy products too, so now I make sure to balance it out and have moderation. I also read that something in spinach 
can cause stones too, and I thought “That was it! I had spinach that fateful night! Granted, it was only a teaspoon because I generally don’t care for the stuff, but that’s what might’ve triggered the event. The dooming straw that broke my kidney’s camel’s back!” Everyone shunned me for that revelation and we collectively agreed it was probably due to all the dairy I consume and lack of hydration.
Needless to say, everything is running smoothly now. It took a month for it to clear up, but I’m happy to report that I’m mostly peeing water. I even installed a water fountain by my bed, so all will be well. But even as you read this, the leftover of that evil pasta that “triggered” everything still sits in the fridge.
Due to having to wait a week or longer, when death seemed like it would arrive before scheduled medical help, I decided to take a chance with a walk-in clinic. I had only been to one once before a couple years prior during a similar incident. However, I didn’t stay because once I saw how many people were in line waiting for who knows what, I left. Fortunately, that brief episode left shortly after too and I was never concerned about it.
that go on. The nurse came in first. Being as tense as I was, I told my life story. She was a cute nurse too, but in these urgent matters, there was no time for flirting and joking. Besides, I could be dying, why would she want to talk to me? Even if I wasn’t, what’s so attractive about a dude who is bleeding where he shouldn’t? This is not the ideal male to mate with. The other thing I was concerned about was disrobing. I had clean underwear on and everything… but if anything, I hoped they would close the blinds to the window I had been staring out of, watching other people walking in and out of the rain that may or may not have looked at me looking at them. We were on the 1st floor! But I was safe, there would be no disrobing. Not in that room anyway. She took my vitals and then asked me to pee in a cup in the bathroom. Easy enough. So far.
What I went through for about a month was the passing of a kidney stone(s). “The worst pain known to man,” as they say. “They” usually refers to women. When brought up around other men, they just cringe. Tiny (or not so tiny) sharp calcium rocks that have only one exit and makes peeing as much fun as removing metal shrapnel from you toes while running through a cactus field being chased by angry bees. I don’t know exactly what that feels like, but I’m sure it can’t feel too good nor is it very much fun. Well neither is peeing pointy rocks. But fortunately for me, like I said, it wasn’t a severe case.
During this time of removal, I had been first taking a Gas-X type medicine before moving to Pepto Bismol. I am not a fan of the pink stuff. I’d rather tolerate the chewables than stomach that nasty pasty pink liquefied chalk. They say it is bubble gum flavor. They lie. I haven’t tried the cherry. Not interested. Anyway, I was unaware of one of the side effects when I woke up one morning to discover a blackened tongue. Granted, even if I was aware of this side effect, I still would’ve freaked out. My possible first thought was, “am I dying?” Or perhaps it wasn’t even a question… I’ve seen a lot of movies in my day, and discovering that the inside of your mouth is much, much darker than when you last saw it the night before meant that something bad was happening. Like a concentrated evil that was taking over your body or trying to kill you, making you fall apart or breaking you down to nothing. That’s what happened in the movies. Anyone who had manifested dark matter in them practically meant certain doom was to rain upon them before the movie ended… and they might not make it to the credits. So I proceeded to brush my teeth, I don’t know, twelve times that day? Focusing on my tongue, and then finally looking back to that Pepto to see what that had to say about my current ailment. (Darkening of the tongue is a side effect, so is darken of the stool… which is just as scary.)
So it had been about two days and I know that if you have a problem that requires the pink stuff, you need to drink plenty of fluids so you don’t get dehydrated. So hydrate I did. Unfortunately I hydrated so much one night—a night I had to be in class for about three hours—that I seriously could not wait to return home to relieve myself. I’m so glad the cops didn’t catch me that night speeding home. Getting pulled over is scary enough, but getting pulled over and wetting your pants at the same time?
