It was check-out day, which was good. I had rescheduled the interview for 5:15 p.m. and was anxious to get home and begin mending. The Urologist had visited before 7 to explain the operation.
“You’ve got a sent in the urinary tract which is expanding it to allow the fluids to get past the stone, which is still there. I think it will be powderized by the work I did, but it was so inflamed in that area that I couldn’t reach it with my tool to remove it. We may get it when we go back up there in 2-3 weeks to remove the stent,” he explained.
He said my urine, collecting in a bag on the side of my bed and being fed by the catheter coming from where they come from, was looking good and that I should be going home today.
I reported this information to the nurse when she returned to my room. Just when I thought I’d known pain, she removed the catheter and alerted me I wouldn’t be going anywhere until I peed on my own. I grabbed my bottle when she left and made an effort and then discovered there was even greater pain than kidney stones and catheter removals. I was loving life in the hospital.
I made it to the interview on time and when I described what I’d been doing over the past few days, they were incredulous that I’d appeared at all. I was meeting with the staff of Fieldstone Farm and they knew me well. “This could have waited, John,” the CEO told me.
“It was very important to me and I’d already cancelled Monday’s appointment. I didn’t want you guys thinking I as some kind of wimp,” I said and we took it from there.
I continued to dread peeing throughout the evening and was too nauseous to eat. I’d had very little since Sunday evening, but was without an appetite. Since I wasn’t doing anything except laying around, I suppose that was a good thing. I did vow to drink more and was following through on that. I finally headed off to bed hoping tomorrow would bring a lessening of the pain.
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