I'm feeling a bit like death warmed up, but I've survived the first 24 hours. Along the way I've learned some useful lessons.
- If you have a stent up your urinary tract towards your kidney, handle the dangly bits with extreme, I say again, extreme care. Any unexpected tugs, twists or movement with your hips can produce a short, sharp burst of agony that's immobilizing, to say the least.
- Your cat won't know (or care about) the stent if she wants to jump onto your lap. If her paws land (with all her weight and velocity behind them) on the lower end of that stent, you'll be using language that you thought you'd forgotten when you left the military, all those years before. You'll also find yourself with homicidal thoughts towards your loving pet.
- The medications they give you to keep down infection and speed recovery are probably all well and good. However, they fail to inform you about the dramatic (and alarming) effect of at least one of them on the color of one's output. My urine went from blood-red to flaming fluorescent yellow-orange overnight, causing me to do a double-take when I went to the bathroom first thing this morning. A quick Internet search reassured me that this was a normal side-effect, not something that should make me get myself to the ER as quickly as possible.
I'm still hurting very badly. That stent really gums up the waterworks, so any attempt to use them the way Nature intended produces some very nasty moments. It'll come out on Thursday, which I'm not looking forward to either. (When the doctor gives an evil laugh as he discusses the procedure, that's generally not a good sign.)
Blogging continues to be light, for which my apologies, but I guess you can understand why. I'll have it back to normal as soon as possible.