I didn’t sleep particularly well and finally got up around 6 a.m. I noticed my stomach was bothering me, but once I got up and walking around, slowly began to realize I’d had the same kind of pain before.
“Donnie…we better start packing up. I think I’ve got a kidney stone attack coming on,” I said, dreading what I was saying.
By the time we had our gear in the boat, I was about 80% of the way to a full blown attack. I’d had one very bad one about 17 years earlier and that one had gotten me my first ride in an emergency vehicle and left me thinking of the pain I’d gone through in passing it over the next several days as the worst period of my life.
The plan was drive north to Potsdam, the closest hospital, which was about 40 miles away. My Aunt and Uncle lived just outside the town and I figured I’d dump my car there and have them take me. I got to within two miles of their house before being forced to the side of the road where I was sure I would vomit. The saliva drooled out, but the cookies stayed in. Still, the pain was getting unmanageable. I arrived minutes later at my Uncle’s and he drove me to the emergency room where strong medication was injected and CT scans confirmed my diagnosis.
“You’ve got one on the move which is causing all the pain, three more in your right kidney and one in your left. You’re also severely dehydrated and you left kidney is not functioning at its normal level,” the doctor explained.
He prescribed pain medication and something to help increase flow and sent me home. I managed to lay around my Uncle’s place and with the Percocet, was reasonably comfortable. I went the rest of the day drinking over 10 glasses of water and eating quite normally, but no kidney stone passed. I went to bed wondering if I would be able to make the drive home on Percocet and before another bad attack.
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