In January of 2017, I was once again experiencing some nasty left flank pain. Given my history with something called renal tubular acidosis, I just figured another kidney stone which I’ll eventually pass. But when March came along and I still hadn’t passed it, my doctor ordered a CT Scan.
We found out I did, in fact, have a kidney stone, but it was the size of a marble and stuck in the kidney! So in July I had a percutaneous nephrolithotomy. If you’re not up on your Greek and Latin, percutaneous is Greek for through the skin, nephro is Latin referring to kidney, litho means stone and -otomy means remove by cutting.
I was sent home with a hole in my back with a tube to drain my kidney for 4 days! Officially, this is called a nephrostomy, as far as I was concerned a major source of misery for which I was grateful for a nice supply of Norco and Valium.
As you can see from the photo, one guy at work referred to it as “OH MY GOSH! WHAT ARE YOU, CRAZY? WHY WOULD YOU EVER LET SOMEONE TO THAT TO YOU!? I’M SORRY, BUT THAT’S JUST NOT RIGHT!!!!”
But then to add to my misery, right after the CT Scan, my doctor called and told me they had a real nice image of the kidney stone, but there was something else there and I needed an MRI asap! That “something else there” was a tumor about the size of a softball next to the kidney and I had that removed In October. Fortunately it’s not cancer. That was removed by a laparoscopy. They inflated my belly with CO2 gas so the surgeon had room in my belly to insert a light and a “robot” with which cut it out. The worst part of that: it took weeks for that CO2 gas to metabolize out. In the meantime, it felt like every rib and both shoulder joints had been separated!
After a total of 8 weeks of medical leave in 2017, I’m so glad to get back in the big seat and on the road again! The highlight of my nightly trips to Chicago is saying “hi” to all the people in the Chicago line haul office. They are a great group of people to work with and lots of of fun to visit every night! Most of them are in their 20s and 30s and getting their adult lives underway. I remember those years – but I don’t miss them. Being married with a house and no debt left in my settled life only comes when you’re closing in on your sixth decade of life. So I guess I’m old enough to be their parent and if I was, I’d be proud of each of them.
So how do you know when you are recovered and ready to go back to work?
When you are too tired to do anything, but not tired enough to sleep!
That sure is weird!
rev 12/17