nobody poor was ever able to afford to give anybody else a job.
-- Lewis Grizzard --
You hear that green quote above all the time, mostly from rich people, and from poor people who have been duped. I'm not sure I agree with it. There is such a thing as being so rich that the only jobs you have to offer are menial minimal-income jobs. Petting and pampering. The rich folks that offer real living-wage jobs are those who still have to scramble to support their lifestyle.
If we make sure there ARE no poor, then everyone can buy stuff, and that's what keeps everyone employed.
Sheesh. I sound socialist, but that's not such a bad thing, actually.
After Sunday's post I went for a walk with Daughter, Hercules, and Nugget. We walked down to the bay, then along the bay until we ran out of pavement, then across some beach (that monster stroller is not fun on sand), to a park (where Hercules and I freaked Daughter out by pretending to give Nugget her first trip down a slide), and then back along some streets. Altogether about 2 miles.
Walking was a bit uncomfortable, because I can feel the stent in the bladder, swinging like a bell clapper. And Saturday evening I had noticed a sort of firm lump under the skin between the clitoris and urethra. I wondered if the stent had moved and was poking. There was no pain, just a slight pressure, like when a tampon is too low. I'm 14 years past menopause, but I still remember that feeling.
Then I took a shower, and went over to the kids' house for dinner, steaks grilled by Hercules.
Something very scary happened in my shower. I piddled before I got in the shower, but I didn't look at it, you know? Sometimes (well, usually, actually), even though I always go before getting into the shower, as soon as the water hits me I piddle a little more.
It was red. Blood. Like Psycho. Swirling down the drain.
It was Sunday. My urologist wasn't in, and not on Monday, either. My first fear was that the stent had poked through the bladder wall, or rubbed a spot raw, or something. If I call anyone, they're going to tell me to go to the ER. But hey, not only is there no pain, but the slight nagging ache I'd had in my right lower back for the past week was gone suddenly! And the firm lump and feeling of pressure were gone, too.
So from then on, when I had to go, I piddled a bit in a glass so I could see what was happening. Later Sunday night there was a bit of pink, but not as much as earlier. Monday morning, it was brown at first, but got lighter and lighter as the day went on. By early evening it was the usual pale yellow.
I think I passed a stone. From the right. Where according to two CT scans and two x-rays, there were NO stones. Which is why I didn't connect the back ache to the right kidney. Ho hum. Par for the course.
Today, Tuesday, I was to call the doctor's office to find out how my kidney function blood test from last Thursday had turned out. It needed to be good in order to have the CT with contrast. I had to leave a message, and the receptionist called back a few hours later to say that it was fine, and I should go ahead and schedule the CT scan. I didn't mention Sunday's blood. I seem to be fine now, and I figure the CT scan should notice if anything's gone flooey. (Yeah, you'd think I'd have learned a lesson by now. They miss a LOT!) I will mention it next time I see him.
Anyway, today I ran a bunch of errands in the morning, then about noonish went with Daughter and Nugget for the two-week OB appointment, then to a wonderful fruit/vegetable/bakery store where we had late lunch/early dinner outside from the deli counter. We got home about 6 pm.
It was funny - Daughter went off the pain meds almost immediately after leaving the hospital, and she's been walking a few miles every day, and taking Nugget everywhere with her, including in the car. Today, the doctor gave her permission to go off the meds, drive, and walk. Snork! If he only knew....
Ever notice that on CSI and Criminal Minds, whenever the crime involves torturing the victims, it's almost always women who get tortured?