I had a kidney stone for the first time a few weeks ago and OH MY GOD. I wouldn't wish a kidney stone on anyone. I thought I was dying. I was reassured (by myself) that it wasn't something to do with baby because the pain was not uterus-y or cramping pain at all, but was more like someone stuck a knife in my left side/lower back and left it there for me to die.
I was vomiting from the pain. Shaking. Cold and hot sweats. I couldn't move my damn legs, the pain got so bad. I'm sure it was super pathetic looking. :( I was in my undies, on the bathroom floor not able to get up. I was like a turtle who flipped on the back of its shell. Ugh.
I wanted Dustin in the bathroom with me to help, but he was watching our child, who was yelling at me to GET UP MOMMA! (Dustin's parents came and got him shortly after.) More dry-heaving. LOTS more pain. Feeling like I was going to pass out. On the bathroom floor.
Funnily enough, the whole time I was turtled, I was making mental notes to sweep up all the hair on the floor later and that the toilet needed a good scrub. But then it was "OWWWWW. Oh my gosh I'm dying. ... Am I really dying?" Even when you feel like you're dying, a mom's job is never done, right?
Soon after Dustin's Mom saw what terrible shape I was in, it was decided (not by me -- I was turtled, remember?) that a call to 911 was in order. The thought of having to let Dustin carry me to the car and then possibly hitting every stop light on the way to the hospital, coupled by potholes or sudden break stops was not even in my realm of possibility. I kept almost blacking out. I was able to maneuver myself up a bit and then more heaving, which turned into barfing, so thank heaven I was able to get off my back. Then firemen came. Then the paramedics. PEOPLE, there were hot firemen and paramedics in my bathroom and I didn't even notice. It was just PAIN. Like a 24 -hour news station but instead of news it was intense pain. Turtle causing pain.
After taking my vitals and whatnot, one of the firemen, whom I had been resting on -- sweaty forearm and all (his, not mine), carried me to living room and plopped me on a gurney. Out the front door and away we went. Puking in an ambulance. Cold. Hot. In pain. Bumpy ambulance ride. PAIN. It sucked.
We arrived to the E.R. after a majorly bumpy ride (we did hit all the greens, though) and the whole time I was thinking that it would suck if the zombie Apocalypse happened now because I didn't stand a chance. Turtle girls don't make it to the second episode, right?
Once we got there and they rolled me into a room, we discovered that being pregnant posed a problem as far as receiving pain medication stood. I was in there for two hours at least until I was given some morphine. I was screaming and moaning in pain. I was THAT patient in the E.R... the loud one. Mom said it looked like I was in active labor. If that's what labor feels like, I want to schedule my c-section a.s.a.p. No way I'm pushing a baby out of me, when the time comes, if it feels like THAT. Holy smokes.
To make my level of pain clear, let me put it this way. I was HAPPY about getting an I.V. in my hand. In fact, the pain in my side trumped any pain that giant I.V. needle caused -- I didn't feel anything. I was relieved to to have a hollow needled shoved into my hand vein.
After I had some anti-nausea meds in me and then we figured out the dosage for pain medicine (I'm a lightweight - I only needed 1/4 of the prescribed dose to take my pain away), I was feeling MUCH better. We did a kidney ultrasound, a baby ultrasound and a normal x-ray of my abdomen (scary because of the baby, but with my cancer history it was necessary) and found a kidney stone, all right.
Nice nurses can make all the difference, I swear. My first nurse was not very personable and basically made me feel that I needed to toughen up and not take pain medication because I was pregnant. My second nurse was sent to me straight from God. I know it. She was a soothing miracle and prayed with me and read me a bit of scripture that soothed my motherly fear of losing the baby (because it's always on my mind). Dearest Nurses: I know you're under a lot of stress, but please very, very nice to your patients. We would trade you our pain for your night shift in a nano-second.
My doctor told me that he was sending me home with pain meds and nausea meds, and that I should pass the stone within 12 hours. It was 2 a.m. when we got home. We were EXHAUSTED to say the least. I made a schedule in my phone for when I was to take my meds and then we went to sleep. I ended up only needing one more dose of morphine in the middle of the night, and by noon the next day, most of the pain was gone. I passed a 4-5 mm sized stone. It didn't hurt at all, the passing of it. I didn't even notice until I check the little urine catcher hat thing that they wanted me to use. I was shocked that something that seemed so small could take me out and whip my buns.One last bit about the pain. On a scale of one to PAIN, the most pain I've ever felt was when I had my right lung taken out. The following day after the removal, they decided to take out my spinal and ease me into I.V. narcotics... Only they forgot to tell me that I had to >>ASK<< for my doses dose of pain medication. So yeah, a few hours go by and I'm starting to hurt. and then I'm starting to HURT. And then HOLYSHITICANFEELWHERETHEYCUTOFFMYLUNGINSIDEME. It was the most intense, brutal, horrible pain I've ever been in. The second most pain I've ever been in was when we were trying to control the pain after they re-amputated my leg last summer. It was horrible. This kidney stone was tied for second with the amputation pain. THAT BAD, that intense.
And that ^^, folks, is what took me down.