Dealing with a kidney stone – this too shall pass

TL;DR: The author just likes to complain about things – at length; always take double Senakot with morphine; medical science doesn’t seem to be able to predict how a kidney stone will behave and sometimes, a post just has to be written when the title is perfect. Besides, the triage nurse on my second visit had “This too shall pass” tattooed on her arm and I promised I’d write a blog post. Also, ignore the picture, it’s just click bait.

On October 6th, I was sitting at my computer and gradually became aware that I was feeling some pain in my back, right where I always imagined my right kidney would be. At first I thought I’d waited too long to pay a visit to the washroom, but this pain turned out to be different, and didn’t go away. Mary-Jo diagnosed a kidney stone, and prescribed drinking a lot, Tylenol and an Aleve, which includes a muscle relaxant. For good measure, we threw in an Alka-Seltzer.

As I recall, I survived the night, but the next day the pain was back. Mary-Jo drove me to our local hospital, and soon I was standing outside the door to emergency, waiting for the Covid-19 pre-scan questionnaire.

Apparently, I wasn’t an immediate Covid threat, and I was soon in the triage line-up. A couple of people were standing near the front of the line and at the rear of the line were some chairs. A pregnant lady and a young woman with a walking cast on one foot were sitting down, and I was not in great shape to stand for very long, so I sat as well. As new people arrived, we sorted out the order, and everything was working nicely. But then some officious woman on the hospital staff walked out and said that we wouldn’t get registered if we weren’t in line. It seems you had to be fit enough to stand for 40 minutes before you’re allowed to be admitted. Don’t want no sickos in this hospital!

That’s a bit harsh really, because from then on it was really very well run. The triage nurse determined what blood tests I needed, registration was efficient and I was ushered from place to place with good explanations and relatively short waits. In a total of five hours, I got blood and urine tests, a CAT scan, saw a doctor twice, was told I had a 4mm kidney stone and was on my way with a prescription and an assurance that I had been referred to an urologist, but if the stone came through, don’t bother with the referral. I was told to take Tylenol and Aleve. No mention of Alka-Seltzer. Oh, and the pain had mostly stopped.

The next five days weren’t that bad except I was drinking so much that I was, shall we say, “Not sleeping through.” And then on October 12th the pain was really bad again. The 13th was pain free during the day, and then I had a terrible night. Even taking the maximum number of Tylenol every four hours had little effect. So I tried calling our family doctor and got caught in a Covid-loop.

It seems to me that however professional our local businesses are, as soon as they try to organize a new process to deal with us during Covid, it’s a miserable failure. In this case, after being on hold for ages, I got through to the receptionist and explained that I just needed some advice – was what I was experiencing normal, or did I need some other plan? – so she transferred me to the nurse to ask my question. The nurse wasn’t there, and her message said to leave a message, but if it was an emergency, please call again and tell the receptionist. So I left a message saying I was calling to find out if it was an emergency or not. And also called the receptionist again and waited on hold. I forget how I got out of the loop, but I did get to talk to our doctor and he faxed a prescription for morphine tablets. I managed to get this filled same day and was able to sleep that night. And the next. By the following day, I wasn’t in pain, but feeling terrible, and my digestion was in a mess. Now the emergency doctor had said to come right back if I threw up, which I had – mildly. So I used that as an excuse, and we trotted off to emerg again, saw a different doctor who told me that morphine was constipating. No kidding. He also gave me an anti-inflammatory injection. I told him the urologist had not been in touch, and he gave me a name and number to call. This particular doctor was in a minority – he said “don’t bother drinking extra water, it has no effect”. But when he said his injection would stop the pain, he was bang–on. This was Friday, October 16th, day 10.

It was also the last time I needed anything more than an Aleve. The following day I felt relatively mild pains around the front, which I hoped was progress. Meanwhile, I did get in touch with the urologist on the Monday. This office had a message saying that messages could only be left before noon, do NOT leave more than one message, and that it could take 72 hours before I got a reply. The urologist called back in three hours. The call was rather rushed, and the only parts I recall were that if I really wanted to find out if the stone was still there, drink a litre of water and see if it hurt, and he would call back on Nov 10th.

So I was in limbo, waiting for the second shoe to drop. Was the stone still there or had it broken up in little pieces and crept out without slamming the door? Meanwhile, I was due to visit my family doctor for my annual physical – the one that got rescheduled from March due to Covid. This visit was not without its difficulties – I arrived on site to find it was supposed to be a virtual visit by phone, a small detail no-one had thought to mention. However, as I was there, I did get to see the doctor. You remember that prescription I got at the first Emerg. visit? It was for a muscle relaxant to make the pipes bigger, and the 20 pills were about to run out, so I got a renewal while I had the chance.

Nearing the end of October, I was still drug free, but still in limbo, and every little ache and pain in my lower back had me wondering if this was going to develop into something major. And as I regularly get pain in my lower back, especially when cleaning up the garden for winter, my psychosomatic apparatus was working overtime.

I decided to do the litre-of-water test, but didn’t get a clear result. I imagine anyone’s kidneys would complain after being doused with that much all at once, but this mild complaining was nothing like the pain from my early experiences. I also wanted to stop the muscle relaxant as it seemed pointless if nothing was moving in the pipes, and the less medications, the better, has always been my motto. I called the urologist office and after chatting with the nurse or whoever called me back – heck, it might have been the receptionist, but she seemed to know a lot – I decided to stop taking the pills.

November 10, I had the scheduled call with the urologist. He was OK with my stopping the pills, listened to my story about the water test and admitted that there was no real way to tell what was happening. But go get an ultrasound to make sure nothing is blocked. And he would call for an update Dec 10th.

November 14 I had the ultrasound. I presume nothing is blocked and that someone would tell me if it’s a boy if it turns out that I’m pregnant.

December 10 is still eight days away.

PS. It’s Dec 10th and I’m told the ultrasound didn’t find the stone, and there were no indications of blockages, so the likelihood is that the little beastie snuck out without saying goodbye. And I’m fine with that.