I went to the urologist’s office today, in hopes of receiving the good news that my kidney stone has passed and that they were going to remove this horrible stent that’s inside of me.

Did   not   happen.

Do you remember that hand puppet Lamb Chop?  And how she sang that horrific little medley, “This is the song that doesn’t end.  No it goes on and on my friend.”  Well, gentle reader, it turns out that this is the kidney stone that never ends.

(If you are not familiar with that little ditty, then you really need to click on the link, because I’m not the only one who should have that annoying melody stuck in my head.)

The x-ray revealed that the sonic waves had blasted some fragments off of the stone, but not a lot.  In fact, the doctor just shook his head and said, “That is a big stone.”  (I just know he was thinking internally “Big-ass stone” but his professionalism stopped him from saying it out loud.  I, apparently, have no professionalism.)

So after some discussion the doctor and I decided that we would wait nine days and do another x-ray, in hopes that the stone completely disintegrates.  Or at leasts falls apart more.  In the meanwhile, I’m supposed to take it easy, endure the stent, and drink lots of water which will help move anything, if there’s anything to move.  (Note to self, swallow a gallon of water after finishing this post.)

If the stone dissolves completely then I am home free.  If it shrinks substantially then we’ll probably do some more sonic waves to speed up its departure.  If it remains stubbornly ginormous, then I’ll have surgery and they will cut into my back and kidney to remove the beast-of-a-stone-that-is-ruining-my-life.

So right now I’m taking bets on which outcome will result.  The safe money, of course, is on the worst case scenario.  Care to wager?

Later tonight I’m going to eat my weight in these cheesy ham quinoa cups and then have four servings of ice cream as I feel sorry for myself and cry copious amounts of tears.   After which, I will watch reruns of Project Runway and then channel Tim Gunn as I shout to my kidneys, “Make it work!”

You’re welcome to join me if you’re in the neighborhood.