Stoned

I recently got stoned. Kidney stoned that is.  It was the third time in my life and by far the worst of the three times. Horrible pain that is unrelenting. Worse than labor. "If you had to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10..." "10. It's a 10. Now please, please, for the love, give me some drugs" pain. Knocked me down, kept me drugged in bed for days pain. The kind of pain that takes away all the scariness of the word "surgery" away. The I don't care what it costs just do it kind of pain. 

Thankfully, I got some relief from the pain and a reprieve from needing surgery. Sure, I'm still a little sore and know the possibility of more pain is out there. Sure, I wonder if I will make it until my follow up appointment next week without collapsing in pain again. But for now, I feel almost normal again. For now, I will thank my lucky stars that I do not need surgery. I will thank all those prayer warriors out there. Because surgery is scary. And expensive. 

Of course I am no closer to understanding why my body has declared war on me. I try to be good to it. I really do. And I am no closer to being able to predict when the next battle will take place. So I march onward hoping one day to have answers and predictability when it comes to my body. Taking things one day at a time. And sometimes only one hour at a time, because that is all that is manageable.