Somebody once ask Thomas Edison how he felt all those times he was a failure. How did it feel those hundreds of times that light bulb failed. He said it felt felt pretty good when it finally worked. Now those are my words and not his but you get the general idea.
I’ve basically been on my own since I was 15. I left home at 16 and moved from NC to AZ. It never occurred to me that I would fail. You can’t fail when there is no where to go but up. When you’ve lived that kind of life then most things seem small in comparison. I’ve still got another couple of hundred things to accomplish and more mistakes to make along the way.
I need to learn how to adjust the volume on my new phone. I was at my kidney stone appointment this week and was startled to the point of almost dislodging my remaining stone. The waiting room was quiet except for the tv and its droning on with an infomercial. Someone was selling an over the shoulder organizer. If you lost your over the shoulder organizer, would you call out and say—hey..everybody look for my over the shoulder organizer? Truth be told, it is probably laying some where in clear sight but coats, cats, and laundry keep it hidden from view.
I was really in to that infomercial and ready to dial in for one when they included a make-up kit, umbrella, and Ford Pinto. Except, the moment was interrupted by a Rap band. My cat claws ripped out of the finger tips and secured me to the ceiling. My heart was beating from my chest and a little yelp came from my vocal cords. You do not want to sneak up on me. I am easily startled because I am totally engrossed in the task at hand or an over the shoulder organizer.
I let go of the ceiling and chose another seat a foot away and reset my boundaries. I figured now would be a good time to lower the ring on my cell phone. I just got this phone a month ago and never bothered to figure out all the buttons. I do that as I go along or need to use that feature. I needed to turn it down now cause we were all in pain and very edgy. A room full of kidney stone victims is entertaining. I had to quit looking at people or something was going to start that laugh I have that causes women to go in to early childbirth. My mom had that laugh too and she almost gave birth to me way too early.
My mom was several months with child, I say with child cause they didn’t know it was me, and her along with my grandma—went to a white sale. Back then in the year 1958, we know the year cause that is when I was bornded, they still had shopping right in downtown. There were no malls or strip joints. You had to get it in town at the high rise department store. Money was still tight and everyone was still recouping from WW2. When a white sale was announced it was a big deal. Women would fight, scratch, share exotic diseases, and knock each other out over a good deal.
My grandma and mom burst in to the department store going full speed ahead. The store clerk ask my very proper and law abiding grandma if she needed any help. In grandma’s hurried state of confusion she said—oh yes, can you tell me where you keep the shitted feets. I started laughing first from inside the womb and then I heard my mom start lauging which was annoying to me. And grandma, poor thing, stood red faced and nearly fainted. She had never said anything like that–ever. Well of course, no one ever let her live that down. Me especially. I came out of the womb yelling–can someone please give that lady some shitted feets! I don’t ever remember our beds being sheetless so I suppose she found some.
Exactly every bit of that story crossed my mind as I sat watching rapper phone lady laugh hysterically at me for clawing the ceiling to death. She was even bragging about it to the phone. Then I heard laughter come from the phone. Then I started laughing and pretty soon we were the happiest dad gum bunch of kidney stoned out people in the world. I think narcotics played a huge role in all this. All we needed was a Bud Light and some kind of cholesterol pumping comfort food.
I thought about my blogging too as I sat there. I was studying my phone and thinking on my blog. I was also listening for the folks selling over the shoulder organizers to change pitch and start throwing in Ginzo knives and free toilet paper for a year. My phone was on high volume so everytime I hit a button to see what it would do….everybody looked at me with that pathetic look of kidney stone victims. This went on for 10 minutes until I did figure it out. Edison would be smiling at me.
So I got called back to the exam room. The nurse was ditzie. I don’t think any of the kidney stone place employees understand that exam room one is privy to all conversations carried out at the nurses station. I knew that in exam room 3 was an old man who could not pee, exam room 2 had someone named Ralph getting a biopsy and the nurses commented on how lucky they were to have gathered it, exam room 7 was being cleaned caused that person finally went, and so many other fascinating stories.
I was burning up in that little room so I kept opening the door half out of curiosity and half to keep fluids in my body. I need all my pee and can’t spare sweating it out. Ditzie nurse reappeared to take my blood pressure. She said it was 110/70 so I’m guessing that she guessed at that. I haven’t had that low of blood pressure since grandma bought shitted feets. And then Ditzie told me that since I had not passed stone 2, we needed xrays. I went along for a bit and followed her down the hall but on the way I was gathering information.
I ask her if my test results had come back from the stone that I dropped off a week earlier?? She said–oh, you already passed it? I said, I have have passed one but the other is still in there and I can feel it every now and then. I also told her that I had an xray on my first visit right after my emergency room CAT scan and that xrays will not pick up my stones. So she said, oh?–I guess we don’t need to do an xray then. I went back to the exam room and she went back to gossiping but this time it was about me. Oh goodie—this will be a good blog topic.
She consulted with everyone about my stone results which had been faxed to her by the lab in California. I decided to take another pain pill cause they were discussing what happens to a person who has my kind of stones. I’ve gotten so use to being a strange person that it never occurred to me a kidney stone might be the clue to some of my symptoms. For many years I’ve had migraines, no sleep, compulsive learner, and jack of all trades. This is why it doesn’t bother me so much to have 50 blogs out there working and not working with my name attached. I googled my name the other day and turns out I have been very clever at times. I have no recollection of it…but, I feel like I still have a few good blogs left in me. If my chocolate covered pretzels hold out, I could be writing all night.
In comes the dr of kidney stones and he explains to me that they are going to run more test. I said, yea, that’s what I figured. I figured you would want to do a full metabolic panel, test my urine for 72 hours, and maybe run some more CAT scans to keep an eye on the bun in the oven. His jaw drops and he ask if I had medical training at some point in time. I said no, but I did sleep at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Nor..did I let on where I had gotten the information. Well he was stunned and started to talk and I interrupted him to say…oh, I’m guessing from the stone results that you need to rule out a parathyroid tumor. At this point he was just nodding in agreement. So , I said, well I’ll do my part and give you some blood and you do your part and call me if we need to operate. He nodded again and I was on my way.
I hope I get the same exam room next time. I came home and googled hypoparathyroidism. It’s not so bad. you can live without them. They are almost never cancerous. I’m thankful to Thomas Edison for inventing things that allow the drs to test and explore. I will be ok and so will my many blogs. I have lots more to tell and you still haven’t heard about my shed, my peg leg, and my wooden teeth—or my cedar egg from the giant cedars of Lebanon. So far, I’ve only told you what I’ve forgotten. Just wait till I start remembering.
As for the keyboard, well…the letter N has been totally rubbed off. It’s where my thumb rest and the pointer finger types out—AnnA! And…the dirt pile above has turned to this!