I've had kidney stones before, something like 7-8 years back - and I swear it hurts like hell. I started feeling some symptoms while still in the air over the US, but when I finally got to my hotel there was no mistaking it anymore. So I called the front desk and they called 911 for me.
Now, just like in a movie it was a fire truck that rolled up five minutes later. The two guys in it put me on a stretcher and asked me some questions, the answers to which they reported in to the hospital while we were en route. I was curious and asked about the combination of fire dept and what in Norway is an ambulance service, and they told me this could vary from place to place, but that in most of southern California it was a fire thing. They apparently had fire fighting equipment in their truck too.
Now, this may be because I'm a complete ignoramus when it comes to most technical stuff, but when I was rolled in to the hospital they did something to my stretcher which caused it to transform into a wheelchair. I was flabbergasted, and for a brief while I was more inclined to go "wheeeeee" than to moan about my pain. I don't know if this is now standard stuff even in Norwegian hospitals, but I'm old enough that I find such technology almost inseparable from magic, or indeed like being in a Transformers movie. Except there was no Megan Fox. Meh.
I spent the next few hours in the very good and competent care of the
Sharp Grossmont hospital in La Mesa. They gave me some painkillers on IV, asked tons of questions about medical history, medication etc. A guy came to take some administrative details, including insurance, and I had several conversations with the yanks working there; all very nice people doing important jobs.
When the doctor came he wanted to check for hernia or testicular problems, so he put on some gloves and "went to town" down there. I told him "they'd dropped", but he checked anyway.
Long story short, I got a CT-scan which showed the stone had already passed and was now resting peacefully in my spacious bladder instead of brutally forcing its way down the all too narrow tubes leading down from the kidneys. If this isn't a designing fault proving the existence of a malevolent God, I don't know what is. The doc told me I had elevated kidney values and gave me some papers to take home to my Norwegian primary physician, as he couldn't be certain whether it was caused by the stone or if it was a permanent thing.
I was given a prescription drug for any pain that might be caused by the stone making its way down into the penis (yet another design fault!) and sent on my merry way back to the motel in a taxi.
Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say that getting a kidney stone was a
good thing, no more than losing my passport in December. But in having this misfortune I at least got a useful glimpse into a part of American society most tourists (fortunately) won't get to witness. I encountered top professionals from the emergency responders to the nurses to the doctor. Everybody was polite, friendly and just plain nice.
I talked winter olympics with the nurses and confirmed that the number one reason why people lived in SoCal was the sweet, sweet climate. Engaging in a little banter, cracking jokes and just talking to Americans is always one of my favorite things to do while over here, and the good people at the ER in Grossmont were no exception. A heartfelt thanks to them all!
