My Sister Called Me A Drama Queen

Just over a week ago I had the privilege of bringing forth to this world my fifth kidney stone.  Yes, those of you that have suffered through this personally know the agony it can cause.  I was told my a female doctor that she would rather give birth than pass a stone...that's all I'm saying.

It started, as usual, in the wee hours of the night, but not as strong as usual.  So I wasn't convinced it was a stone.  Until later on in the morning when I was driving to an appointment....I then became sure.  Mother flogger!!!!  But, also strangely, the pain subsided to the point that I though maybe I was not so bad off.  I went home in the hopes of sleeping it off.  That's when my MD sister called me a drama queen.  Cancer wasn't enough, I need to have a stone as well.  I told her I was sympathy deprived...so there.  Anyhooooooo, long story a tad shorter, I drove myself to emergency to get hopped on drugs so I can be pain free, my insides could relax and lo and behold, 5 hours later, shortly after I got home, I passed the stone.  First time I caught the bugger.  I'll spare you the details though. But I'm feeling much better now, thanks for asking.

Which leads me to considerations on health.  Maybe I'm dense, maybe I'm naive.  Scratch that, I'm both of those things and I think they are intrinsically linked together.  I like to think the naivete takes precedence but one never knows. Which is why I say that I do know that one never thinks of their health until they are in poor health.  Be it a stone, cancer or mental health.  Ignorance is bliss and the absence of outward signs must mean everything is ok. I profess to being uncomfortable with mental health.  Not that I am unsympathetic, just that I have very little personal experience to relate to and I find it hard to say the right thing or even if I should say anything.  As far as I know I have no anxieties, no depression and no signs of anything coming close to mental health issues.  So when confronted with an issue with a loved one I find myself casting about for the right thing to say.  Or worse, that I might make things worse somehow...people talk to me for some reason and I find they can confide a lot of things to me.  Always been that way.  I suspect it will continue.  Part of me likes it and part of me wonders why me.  Maybe I have a kind face.  Maybe that explains why complete strangers will tell me about they're affairs...and by affairs I mean sexual and emotional dalliances.  It goes from how did you hurt your foot to my ass hole husband is having an affair so I am having one as well.  Uhhhhmmmmm, ok then.

I told you I rambled....get over it.

My love and support to those dealing with all kinds of health concerns but especially for those going through mental health issues.  That not so silent fuck wad of an issue that you can't wrestle to the ground easily.  If you're "mine", you can always talk to me.  I may not have the right words but I do listen well....oh wait, maybe that's why people talk to me.  I listen.

Well....enough rambling.  I'm going home.  Feed my cat and hopefully spend sometime with my girlfriend.

Remind me to talk about "we decided to"

Ciao
D