Five is too many kidney stones
Five is a perfectly fine number. Five siblings, five puppies, five cookies, five are the books of the Torah in the famous song from the Passover seder. Nothing wrong with the number five.
Unless you are counting kidney stones. Kidney stone #1 was about 20 years ago, on the eve of the celebratory Purim holiday. I have written about that one before. Our neighbor/doctor/friend took Husband #1 to the hospital, and when the episode was over, we came home and Megillah Man (aka Husband #1) read the megillah for us.
Number 2 was on the Shavuos holiday that followed that infamous Purim holiday stone. Number 3 was a few years later. Number 4 was a year and a half ago, while we were in Israel. Number 4 was the most fun because Husband #1 wouldn’t go to the hospital, so 2-year-old Danish was his nurse as he writhed on the floor in pain, “riding it out” before fasting on Tisha B’av.
Why pay for a hospital visit when you can be in agony for free?
And then came last Friday. As the front door unexpectedly opened, I knew something was amiss. “I have a kidney stone,” Husband #1 grunted at me.
“I am going to stay home from work and ride it out. I will be fine,” he said with a clenched jaw.
Great. I am thrilled. “Where is my compassion?” you may ask. I am chock full of it.
Fortunately, I have the cell phone of a lovely urologist who has helped Husband #1 out before. I sent him a text asking him if he can give Husband #1 a shot of Toradol, like they do in the hospital, or if he can call in some type of liquid painkiller because Husband #1 can’t swallow pills.
We have learned, unfortunately, through many procedures that you cannot chew a narcotic — it changes its effect on the system. You can, however, chew cholesterol meds, flomax, children’s chewable Motrin, and a bunch of other disgusting tasting medicines.
I love being married to this man. He makes life so interesting. Some husbands do that through travel and culture, mine does it by being a picky eater and a non-swallower of medication. To each their own.
Anyway, so it’s Friday morning, I text the urologist, never expecting him to get back to me and then, all of a sudden, he responds, “Get your husband to the office immediately.”
And full-of-compassion me is thinking, “Come on, I only have one more episode of “Orange is the New Black” before I can start watching the new season of the “Lincoln Lawyer.”
I can’t take him to the doctor. Can’t he drive himself?”
Noooooo, that’s not what I was thinking, Husband #1 needs me….that rarely happens. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Sorry, not funny. He is a very capable and independent man, and when he got out of surgery and the nurse told me that he cannot partake in any heavy lifting or strenuous activity, I looked her straight in the eye and said, “You got it. I won’t make him do a thing.”
And then Husband #1 said, “Thanks so much for taking this seriously.”
Yes, he needed a surgical procedure to take the stones out and put a stent in. It sounds as awful as it is, but it does help that when we went to the doctor on Friday, Husband #1 was probably the funniest he ever was and I was so proud of him.
And as his wife and life partner of over 30 years, I can now honestly say that I have seen parts of his inner workings that I never thought I would see. It was pretty cool and gross all at the same time.
On Friday, we were sent home with two shots for the pain, if needed. Fortunately, they weren’t, and then I had to go to three different pharmacies to get the liquid painkillers. hard to believe, but there doesn’t seem to be a large market for that kind of medication.
But after one pharmacy never told us they didn’t have it, they sent us to another branch of that pharmacy and they didn’t have it either, so, to Parkview we went and they could not have been more helpful, and we had five minutes to spare before Shabbos started. See, there’s that number five again.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is thinking of a part 2 for this compelling tale.