Everything you can imagine is renal.

At least at our house it is lately.

Tuesday I was feeling a bit "off." And I blew that off, thinking that I'm pregnant. That happens. By 10:00 at night, I was sure I had a full blown bladder infection. I tried to self treat until the morning when I could call the doctor. This required sending my dear, loving, wonderful husband out into the middle of the chilly rainy night to brave the dangers of Walgreen's at night. He said the hoodlums were a bit scary. As I paced, soaked in a warm tub, and drank bottle upon bottle of water, I waited anxiously for him to get home. When he did, I took a couple of cranberry pills, and drank some cranberry juice, waiting, waiting waiting for the pain to ease.

I figured if I wasn't asleep by 1:00 AM, it was probably bad enough to head in to the ER. I really, really didn't want to be that fool in the ER showing up because they had a problem that a normal doctor could fix on normal hours. I really didn't want to be calling my OB in the middle of the night, complaining about a bladder infection. A stupid bladder infection.

You see, January 1st 2007, I ended up in the hospital with Kidney stones. I was throwing up, miserable, in lots of pain. I thought I was dying. Maybe I had an appendix rupture -- only without the fever. Who knew? So, those several hours in the uncomfortable ER chairs waiting for a room went by really really slowly. All I wanted to do was go home and get in bed and die there. In fact, I told Not the Momma that several times during the wait. But, being the stubborn (and loving and wonderful and caring) husband that he is refused to take me home. He wanted me to die on that cold tile, writhing in pain the day before he left for a year overseas. And that's when the guy who came in before me started complaining. About a toothache. And how he really needed to be seen now. Because he had a toothache. I was throwing up every 4 to 5 minutes (how, I don't know, I'd thrown everything up already), writhing in agony on the floor in such a show that when I sat down, people fled from me like I was Moses and they the Red Sea. They certainly didn't want to catch whatever I had. It really bothered me that the rooms were full of people who had hangovers and toothaches while I was being left to die. So, I made a pact to myself that I would NEVER go to the ER if I didn't have to.

Tuesday night, I was sure I didn't really have to. I could drown the bladder infection to the point where I could sleep -- and hopefully sleep would last long enough that I could wait it out until morning. But the longer I sat in misery, the sweatier I got from the pain, the less I was able to concentrate on anything, the more I thought about going to that ER. And, so, I changed the time to midnight. If I didn't feel sleepy or better by midnight I was driving myself to the ER for a stupid bladder infection.

At 11:57 (okay, so that might not be the exact time, but close enough), I went to the bathroom and passed another kidney stone. Immediate pain relief. I've never thought anyone would be crazy enough to praise the lord for a kidney stone, but I did it right there in my bathroom. Within the hour, I was sleeping soundly upstairs in my bed. Well, sort of. There was the small matter of the 64 oz of water and 32 oz of cranberry juice consumed between 10 and midnight. Compound that with the whole "I'm pregnant" thing, and I was getting to sleep for about an hour at a time with pee breaks. But I wasn't in pain. It was great. Everything is fine for me around here now.

However, there's another little tortured soul in my home. My girl dog started using the house as her bathroom the other day. Not normal behavior, especially when she'd just been out. Last night I noticed that when I let her out, she went about 5 times. Not good. She has an appointment tomorrow to get her poor little bladder infection fixed. The first vet I called suggested we come in on Feb 25Th. Which I said OK to initially. The dogs need their shots anyway. Then I came to my senses. What if I'd called the doctor the next morning and they said they couldn't see me for a few days for my bladder infection -- let alone two weeks? I'd have lost it. I would have died or killed everyone around me. So, she'll be seen first thing in the morning tomorrow. That's better. Much better. In the meantime, I'm eyeing those cranberry pills and all that cranberry juice. And Little Monster's diapers.

Hopefully by the end of tomorrow we'll all be happy and everything around here will be real, and not renal.

*"Everything you can imagine is real." -- Pablo Picasso