(no subject)

So, I've been having an adventure this week.

Wednesday morning, I woke up to find spots of blood on my bedsheet by my pillow. After the intitial WTFness I noticed several smallish puncture wounds on my left forearm and realized that overnight, I'd probably rolled over and whacked the cat, and she didn't take kindly to it. I don't remember waking up because of it or anything, though.

I point this out because it was the high point of my day.

( cut for length and TMI )

I've been referred to another nearby hospital that has a dedicated kidney stone center. After they have their people look at my charts and scans and other info, they'll call me (should be sometime between tomorrow and Wednesday). Provided I'm a good candidate (and I should be), the next step is extracorporeal shock wave lithotripsy, where they use sound waves to break the stones up. (It works better while they're in or near the kidneys, thus the stent.) That's an outpatient procedure. After that, I can get the stent taken out (which is fairly simple, I've heard). After that, I get to do follow-ups with a bunch of different doctors.

Incidentally, I've named my kidney stones Andrew and Wakefield. The real Wakefield was in Boulder Wednesday night and I'd wanted to protest (though this obviously didn't happen). Other reasons for the naming, copied from a comment I made in fucking_meds:

-Neither the stones nor the person are doctors.
-They both cause more pain than they alleviate.
-They both want my money.
-And on a less funny note, a tenth baby died of pertussis in California while I was in the ER.