Like A Rolling Stone

I grew up hearing about the terrors of kidney stones. There was the story of my Grandpa Jim driving up from Texas to New Jersey and getting stranded in Tennessee because a stone left him in no position to drive. Then there was my Uncle Joe explaining the contortions he went through trying to relieve the pain his kidneys. And my mother always told me it was worse than labor.

For the past six years I've been attacked on a regular basis by these awful little buggers that painfully make their way through my body. At the height of the pain I think of strange things-- I see the angriest shades of yellow and gray, remember lines to poems I memorized as a kid, think about throwing myself off of high places. You cannot sleep, do not want to eat, and cannot put the pain from your mind for even a minute.

This latest bout is not quite that bad-- maybe the stones aren't as pointy, or perhaps they are sitting in a better spot than usual. But still, how many glasses of water can you drink in a day (the doctor says I need to drink at least 3.5 liters)? How long can a stupid hunk of sediment torture your insides? I hope my little stones roll on soon.