My husband has kidney stones. That's what the doctor at the urgent care said last night when we rushed him there with pain that had him doubled over and writhing around. They can't do anything but give him something for the pain. And let me tell you, they gave him something powerful for the pain. He spent most of last night alternating between telling me crazy things and mumbling incoherently. Then exhaustion won out, and he's finally sleeping fairly peacefully. Still pain though - I can see it in his face even when he sleeps. If you're the praying kind... well, you know what to do.
I'm exhausted too. But my chance for sleep will have to come later. My son has school, and I have to get him ready, his lunch made, and his backpack all packed up. This morning I'm feeling my own kind of pain.
Last night when we had to go to the doctor, my kids were worried. When they saw daddy was in so much pain and that we had to get him there quickly, they started to panic. So I minimized it. I told them it was just fine, that daddy would get all fixed up. That he was just in a pain now, but we would take care of it. (Let me tell you, I was really hoping that was the case. What would I do if it wasn't the case? I don't even want to think about it.) So the kids weren't worried. Because they trust what I say. And they were fighting, and running all around my husband's gurney. I tried to get them to stop without threatening their lives right there in front of the doctors and nurses. Didn't work. And I couldn't get them to stop by telling them exactly how serious things were at that very moment, because, well, I didn't want them worried about whether or not daddy was ever going to come home with them again. When I told them to behave with that stern parent look on my face (you know the look) they looked back at me with faces that said, chill mom, what's the big deal? Oh, this parenting... it too is painful.