Yesterday morning I looked at my husband and told him, Call the doctor.
He shrugged me off.
What is it with men and calling doctors?
An hour later: Call.The.Doctor. Or maybe I will if you don’t? He let me hand him the phone at that. An hour later, he handed it back, not having called, and I thought, well, I can’t make him.
Finally, about 2 pm, he suddenly appeared in the hallway in his bathrobe and croaked, “Urgent Care!” I lightly touched his back as I answered him, and he winced hard. “Is it your kidneys?” I asked him. Sam hurriedly hustled him out the door, both of them telling me to stay home and not be exposed to all the things that would be coming through the doors at the clinic. They were right, but I didn’t like it.
So all I could do was wait for the phone to ring; Sam called before they did the CT scan.
They got home hours later. It was a kidney stone, lodged up where they couldn’t do the ultrasound treatment on it, at least not yet; tomorrow he sees the specialist. The IV they gave him with morphine made it so he came home feeling a whole lot better than when he left, and he’s to stay on morphine till he gets to the doctor.
My mom mentioned to me that she and Richard (with Richard later confirming it was true for him, too) had spent all that time watching over me in the hospital and had not had their usual amount to drink while they did so; only during lunch and dinner at the hospital cafeteria. Here people were telling me I was going to have to drink a lot more often once they sent me home to keep from getting kidney stones, because of being an ileostomy patient, but Mom and Richard didn’t think to make sure they got enough themselves. Goodness. Poor guy.
I can’t tell you how glad we are that Sam’s here! Can you imagine me trying to drive him to the clinic with that right leg of mine? No way. I definitely have incentive now to work on strengthening those muscles. You never know, and she’s not staying here forever.
Hopefully they won’t have to do surgery on him and this too shall pass.