To this point.

This episode began several years ago when with little warning I experienced what I diagnosed to be kidney stones. It was an excruciating incident that relies on experience for explanation. I have been told that with the possible exception of childbirth, it may be one of the top ten pains. Medical communication being more art then science has quantified pain into a ten point numbering scale with one being the mildly discomforted smiley face and ten being the “oh my god, where’s my leg.” This pain was a ten with a bullet.

The doctor, however, did not agree with my diagnoses because in that dramatically clinical and qualitative diagnostic test; i.e. please pee in the cup, nothing turned up, no little stony things, no blood, nothing. He almost seemed disappointed. I, however, had been feeling fine from about ten days after the event until the time that I had eventually made it in to see the doctor. We need to watch this and call me if it happens again. I can remember leaving the office and mentally making a list of all the things I would call him if it did happen again.

Things were fine for about eighteen months and then the premonition of pain appeared again but this time I was ready. Lola had been studying polarity for sometime and had identified all the body marks that could head off those kidney stones at the pass. So I asked her to “do that voodoo that you do so well.” The treatment seemed to work and another six or eight months passed and I remained fat and happy. As 2006 dawned it was Lola who was garnering all the medical attention. Her sixteen year battle with the “shadow beast” culminated in surgery for a hydro-cephalic condition. It was almost a miracle cure, which just goes to prove you should never underestimate the value of drilling a hole in your head and putting in a piece of plastic. She’s feeling better then she has in years.

In May I began to have the nagging premonition again and was experiencing some mild discomfort, so we opted to do what had worked before. This time with an associate of Lola’s that came to give her a treatment as part of her recovery. When it was my turn under the screw Lola said, “It may not be such a good idea to lay flat on the firm treatment table.” Understanding that the idea of me laying flat anywhere was quite revolutionary, I in my flawed logic replied, “What could it hurt?” The answer of course was me. Such pain I had! It was only through God’s providence that Amad was visiting or I might still be on the treatment table.

Another undiagnosed kidney stone was again my mis-diagnoses and as before, just holding on through the worst of the pain was my prescription. This one brought an attitude. It was bound and determined not to leave me alone until I paid attention to it. The expected ten day persecution period passed and though there was some moderation, it was still persistent in holding my attention. Over the next month and a half I relied on little red and white capsules to bring me to a place where I could pretend to ignore it. It was my decision to wait for my scheduled doctor’s appointment that turned out to be a blood test and no visit with the physician making my real face to face a good two months from the occurrence. And still the pain, in its obnoxious little egotism, was always demanding attention, always suggesting something else.
Again the doctor says; “pee in the cup” and still comes up with the same results and admits his desire to have pictures of me, from the inside. We scheduled a cat scan with results reported by some type of medical personnel by phone in a “what’s my line” impersonation next to none. I have a cyst on my kidney that warrants further pictures, ones that cost more. And then the doctor calls. Now I don’t know much about the medical profession but I do know the difference between a call from the medical personnel and one from the doctor. It’s a solid mass, a growth, a tumor, a bad thing, and I need to see a specialist.

The specialist confirms it’s not a good thing. An unwanted growth that has a ninety percent chance of being cancer is his best offer. My memory for multi-syllabic medical language is limited but the translation is an aggressive surgical kidney cancer that does not respond to chemo or radiation. Because the little bugger (5cm) has grown down into the kidney the option is to remove the kidney. So here we are waiting for September 1 when surgeons will exercise their laparoscopy skills in yet another test of the practice of medicine.