The Lithotripsy That Wasn't

I should probably explain that a lithotripsy is a medical procedure involving "blasting" a kidney stone so it breaks up and you can pass it.

For guys, passing a kidney stone is roughly akin to the pain level involved in having a baby, or close to it.

My brother and I arrived at the hospital out-patient department around 9:30 yesterday morning, and the usual pre-op stuff happened - including a not-so-usual part where the nurse tried two times to insert an IV in my arm. It turned out my veins "rolled" too much and the needle kept on pushing out of the vein. (I don't know if that's the correct term for it, but that's what it felt like).

When the anesthesiologist mentioned that no anesthesia would be administered if the technician couldn't detect the kidney stone on their scanning equipment and that the procedure would be cancelled, I didn't think anything of it. (I'd had at least two other lithotripsies and this had never been an issue).

So, I was wheeled into the procedure room, and after 15 minutes spent unsuccessfully trying to pinpoint where the kidney stone was, the procedure was cancelled. Which was about the emotional equivalent of finding out that the team you were rooting for in the state semi-finals lost in overtime by one point.

The only actual treatment I was given during the three hours I was in the hospital was a dose of motion sickness medication, which works to counteract nausea when receiving anesthesia (which I didn't actually receive).

I left the hospital with my brother, actually feeling disappointed that, with all the preparation (including taking magnesium citrate to clear my stomach and intestines the night before) it was a no go.

Isn't it funny how even potentially unpleasant experiences can result in disappointment if they don't come to pass?

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