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Kidney Update
Mar. 9th, 2022 10:19 pmA while ago, I had my regularly-scheduled ultrasound appointment to see what my kidneys were doing to me =this= time. This is a two-stage process: first, the appointment with a tech who performs the ultrasound, and second the appointment with the urologist a few days later to talk about them.
During the session with the technician, I could see her screen as she ran the probe and its gooey lubricant over my sides. I've become adept at reading these things by now, and I could tell she had spotted stones. Techs usually don't like to answer patient questions about their results (in case the patient takes it as an official diagnosis), but I always ask. To my surprise, this time the tech said that she had indeed seen at least two stones, though she wouldn't say how big they were.
I was uneasy. I'd been getting twinges now and then, and was wondering if yet another surgery was coming up. I wasn't up for it. Not now.
A couple days later, I got an email alert that I had test results in my patient portal. They must have been the ultrasound reports. With my jaw clenched, I checked and found I was right.
Two kidney stones, one in each side. Both in the lower poles (the bottom of the kidneys). One was 5 mm, the other 9 mm.
At 5-9 mm, I happen to know, you have a 50% chance of being able to pass the stone, and a 50% chance it'll get stuck on the way out. Also, stones in the lower poles are really difficult to clear out with lithotripsy. They often require a scope and uretal stents, both of which always cause me enormous amounts of pain. Now I was getting panicky. Darwin did his best to calm me down, but it was a losing battle.
Darwin took me to the urologist's office because I couldn't face this alone, and because I had taken enough Xanax to stun a doberman.
At the office, we waited in tense silence in the waiting room while an enormously rotund man alternated talking to the receptionist and booming into his cell phone. He had a voice like a foghorn, and he bellowed to his unseen partner several salacious details about an estate case he was involved in. ("At this point, I don't give a damn about the kids," he snapped. "They aren't mentioned in the will, so they take what they can get.") He clearly wanted everyone around him to know he was a Very Important Lawyer. We found him both annoying and foolish.
Finally I was called into an examination room, and after the usual check-in procedures, my urologist entered.
"You have a couple kidney stones," he announced.
"I saw," I said. "Five and nine."
During the session with the technician, I could see her screen as she ran the probe and its gooey lubricant over my sides. I've become adept at reading these things by now, and I could tell she had spotted stones. Techs usually don't like to answer patient questions about their results (in case the patient takes it as an official diagnosis), but I always ask. To my surprise, this time the tech said that she had indeed seen at least two stones, though she wouldn't say how big they were.
I was uneasy. I'd been getting twinges now and then, and was wondering if yet another surgery was coming up. I wasn't up for it. Not now.
A couple days later, I got an email alert that I had test results in my patient portal. They must have been the ultrasound reports. With my jaw clenched, I checked and found I was right.
Two kidney stones, one in each side. Both in the lower poles (the bottom of the kidneys). One was 5 mm, the other 9 mm.
At 5-9 mm, I happen to know, you have a 50% chance of being able to pass the stone, and a 50% chance it'll get stuck on the way out. Also, stones in the lower poles are really difficult to clear out with lithotripsy. They often require a scope and uretal stents, both of which always cause me enormous amounts of pain. Now I was getting panicky. Darwin did his best to calm me down, but it was a losing battle.
Darwin took me to the urologist's office because I couldn't face this alone, and because I had taken enough Xanax to stun a doberman.
At the office, we waited in tense silence in the waiting room while an enormously rotund man alternated talking to the receptionist and booming into his cell phone. He had a voice like a foghorn, and he bellowed to his unseen partner several salacious details about an estate case he was involved in. ("At this point, I don't give a damn about the kids," he snapped. "They aren't mentioned in the will, so they take what they can get.") He clearly wanted everyone around him to know he was a Very Important Lawyer. We found him both annoying and foolish.
Finally I was called into an examination room, and after the usual check-in procedures, my urologist entered.
"You have a couple kidney stones," he announced.
"I saw," I said. "Five and nine."
He nodded. "But fortunately, the ultrasound often magnifies them, and makes them seem about twice as large."
Eh? I had never heard of this phenomenon, and wasn't sure what to make of it.
"We could go after them," he continued, "but they aren't causing any swelling, and they'd be hard to target with lithotripsy. We could scope them out and put in stents--"
"Nope," I said.
"--or we could just wait and see," he finished. "Stones in lower poles don't tend to move much, which is good in that they might not bother you, but bad in that they might not pass on their own."
I felt some cautious relief. I didn't need another operation just yet. Okay, then.
We'll check them again in six months.
