Well, what started as lower back aches sure ruined my month. That, as well as some unexpected blood, took me to the doctor’s office. After being told it was just a kidney infection and to take some antibiotics, I finished finals and Mati and I took off for Oklahoma. No smooth sailing though, because the pain kept getting worse. Finally, unable to bear it, we stopped at an ER on the Navajo Nation in New Mexico. We waited for several hours in a waiting room (where we were definitely the only white people – I’ve never felt so self-conscious about my blonde hair!) and finally got in to be seen… by then, the pain had subsided substantially, so after a few tests and an ultrasound, I was released with heavy-duty narcotics, the diagnosis of kidney stones, and advice to drink a lot of water and wait to pass the stone(s).
The following week, however, back in Utah, the pain hadn’t gone away, and I hadn’t passed a stone. So back to the doctor I went. After a CT scan, it was confirmed that I still had a 3.6 mm stone (as well as a 6.6 cm ovarian cyst, but let’s not go there) and that it had just left my left kidney. Again, I was given drugs and told to let it pass. 2 weeks later, though, I was STILL having pain, so I went to the doctor AGAIN. Frustratingly, I was told to continue to be patient. Patience, though, only got me landed in the ER that night due to unbearable pain. Thankfully, the ER gave me miraculous drugs that made it so I didn’t want to die, another CT scan confirmed that my stone was still in place in my left ureter, and I was given the number of a Urologist to call.
The Urologist immediately scheduled me for surgery, and I had a basket extraction done. Basically, that means getting completely knocked out while the Urologist goes up through the urethra, bladder, and ureter to grab the stone and pull it out. Then, he places a stent (long bendy tube) in the ureter so it doesn’t swell shut from the trauma. After the effects of the surgery wore off, I was allowed to go home, as well as given more narcotics and anti-nausea meds. After 3 days, I was instructed to pull the stent out, and I was told that everything would be downhill from there.
False. After the stent came out, all of the blood I had been seeing stopped, and it was back to the ER due to pain. After more miracle drugs and yet another CT scan, this time with contrast, they told me my pain was probably normal and that my ureter was fine. But the next several days of trying to survive unbearable pain (and I’m not just being a baby here – it was so bad I couldn’t walk, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there and cry, and throw up repeatedly) told me otherwise.
I kept trying to get back in to see the Urologist, but was told everything I was experiencing was normal and that they’d see me in a little over a week. A call from my dad with the hint at a lawyer if I had complications due to not being seen in a timely manner got me a same-day appointment. A look at my previous CT scan as well as an ultrasound finally earned me some validation – he told me what I was experiencing was NOT normal, that I had renal colic and inflammation of the ureter (just as we expected) which usually clears up quickly. Since mine hadn’t, however, my choices were ridiculous drugs to try and allow me to endure my body trying to fix itself, or get another surgery to put another stent in place for several weeks. Not wanting another surgery, I chose the endurance route, and set up another appointment for the following week.
Waiting seemed to do the trick! The new drugs made the pain bearable (as well as making me very itchy and sleepy all the time), and now (2 weeks later) I have been feeling great and starting to get back to normal life. Thank goodness. And also thank my great support group that took care of me through everything. Just don’t thank my original doctor.
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