Some things are super clear. Other things… yeah, no.
I do know I wobbled a third of the way across the infield to the bathroom at least twice on my own. I sipped on water and MT Dew, ate some peanut butter crackers and dozed off a lot.
On my ventures out, I would notice people sitting nearby, but never thought much of it. I’d get a wave and be asked how I was doing. I was doing great, because I wasn’t in pain. I’d come back exhausted and crawl back into the van.
I later learned that Jeff’s friends next to us and some a few rows away had taken shifts to make sure I didn’t need help. One of the women had even followed me to the bathroom. I had no clue.
I remember sitting in the front seat. I don’t remember Jeff packing up the van, or leaving. We stayed put until most of the crowd had rolled out to conserve gas. I remember lying down on the not very grassy spot next to the van because sitting up was just too hard. I don’t know how long it took us to get home. I don’t remember how we got the van back to his Mom’s house, or how I ended up in bed at ours.
I do remember waking up around 9 PM and wondering what had happened. I was very, very sore all over. Monday, I made an appointment with my doctor for Tuesday. By Tuesday, I thought the whole thing was silly and that whatever it was had worked itself out. Jeff convinced me to keep the appointment. I’d run out of pain pills by this time. I felt ok, but had a fever and what felt like a bladder infection.
Sent home with antibiotics and more Vicodin, I was told to take a few days off. On Wednesday, Jeff had gone to work and I was on the phone with my Dad. I was telling him this story, when I realized I actually felt like I might want to full-fledged pee, instead of the pitiful dribble I’d experienced. So, I toddled off to the small half bath under the stairs in our townhouse and kept talking.
When I was finished, I check the collection “hat” I’d been provided with to “catch the grains of sand” that they hopefully believed I would pass, at some point. I was dumbfounded to see an orangey, odd-shaped rock. “Dad,” I said. “I don’t understand. I haven’t been outside today and Jeff isn’t home and I’m not wearing sneakers, but somehow a rock got into the bathroom thingy.”
He asked me to describe it. It was ‘L’ shaped. Each branch was about 1/4 inch and covered with spiky bumps. It didn’t look like any of the stones we had in our gravel drive or flower bed. I briefly wondered if Jeff had decided to play joke on me.
“Congratulations,” my father announced. “You’ve passed a kidney stone!”
“I peed that?” I sqwalked, incredulously. “Really?” After a beat, I enthusiastically added, “Vicodin, maaaannnnn. That’s some good shit!”
I’d been told to drop off whatever tiny grains and sediment was captured by the sieve at the lab. So, I dutifully put the pebble in the provided bottle, and waited for Jeff to get home. Jeff was astounded and enamored. “OOOhh,” he peered into the open container. “Let’s keep it…” He suggested, “as a souvenier…”
I informed him I was supposed to bring it in for analysis. “Well,” he pondered, “Can we wait a few days? Maybe you can pass another one… and then, we could keep this one!”
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