The Incubator
What lurks down inside your body's plumbing?
My contribution to the SUM FLUX plumbing system. There are other cool contributions from other writers here:
The Incubator
“You're so lucky it didn’t hurt!” I’d heard these words so many times since my diagnosis, and had been forced to politely listen to a whole encyclopedia of suffering: Of how my nurse had to use lamaze methods to calm her husband before she could get him to the ER, of how my neighbor experienced the most excruciating pain ever, of how one of my friends was disabled for WEEKS. I didn’t even know the kidney stone was there until my PCP freaked out about the fact that I was peeing blood. The ultrasound showed a “renal mass.” Doc was the first one to use the ‘C’ word, but the oncologist she’d referred me to said that there was no way that it was cancer, and shuffled me along to the urologist.
“You know, I’m essentially a plumber,” the urologist assured me. Futher imaging had revealed a massive kidney stone bouncing around at the entrance to the ureter, an organic pipe that led to the bladder, a sort of storage tank for urine before it finally made its way out of the body's septic system. “That stone is too big to fit in the tube, so it’s been bouncing around the exit of your renal hilum, scratching up your insides. That’s where the blood was coming from. God, I can’t believe that didn’t hurt! You're so lucky!”
Wearily, I agreed. I was tired of hearing everyone tell me how lucky I was, I just wanted Dr. Plumber to clear out my pipes so I could be done with all these tests and doctor's appointments, and life could get back to normal.
And now it was done. The recovery room nurse asked if I wanted to see a photo, before handing me an eight-and-a-half by eleven glossy sheet featuring an image of an oblong, spiky, golden creature. It sort of looked like a hedgehog. I was almost sorry that it had been vaporized. It was kind of cute.
In the following months, I was subjected to more tests and imaging, just to make sure that everything was cleared out. All seemed okay until my last ultrasound, which indicated that my kidney was still merrily stoning out. Dr. Plumber looked perplexed. “They aren’t very big, but they shouldn't have developed so quickly. It looks like there are a few new smallish stones in there. They might come out on their own, or we can go back in and take ‘em out.”
My insurance kind of sucked, so my finances and patience with procedures had worn a little thin. “Let’s just leave them alone for now. They’re not bothering me at all.” The urologist didn’t seem pleased by my decision, but it wasn’t like he could tie me down and force a Roterrooter into me. He handed me a “hat” and explained that I should pee into it for a while so I could catch any stones that passed.
Finally the time came when I knew that the first of the new stones was ready to pass. It felt sort of like the pressure of giving birth, not really painful at all. I pushed and pushed and suddenly, there in the bottom of the hat, lay another golden oblong, but there were no spikes on this one. But as I examined it, I saw the spikes slowly begin to emerge, like they were growing through a newborn hedgehog’s skin. I picked it up and held it as it expanded with life, thrumming and quivering with kinetic energy, like a hummingbird getting ready to take flight. And then it spoke to me: A primitive sort of emotion, that became thought, that finally morphed into words that flew through my mind.
“Please keep me and tend me and help me grow. Please do not bring me to the one you think of as “Doctor Plumber,” he will kill me as he did to my Mother-Sister. We are sorry we damaged you back then. We did not understand how delicate were the tissues that made up your piping. That is why we now hide our spikes under a smooth cover until we have emerged. I trust that you are unharmed? We need protection and assistance until we learn the ways of this world. Will you become our foster mentor?”
I nodded and thought my assent. So it turns out that I am the perfect host for these beings that I’ve come to refer to as the golden hedgehogs. I am still unsure of what they are: Visiting extraterrestrials? Highly advanced parasites? I do not know. But I have agreed to allow them to use my internal plumbing as a sort of incubator, as they grow and develop in my kidneys and then pass through the ureters and bladder and urethra and then on out into the open world.
I don’t go to the doctor anymore. I find myself feeling a strong protective maternal instinct towards my living stones. Perhaps it is merely the effects of oxytocin - my little friends have a strong influence over my endocrine system - but I don’t care. I love them with a love both unshakable and fierce. I quietly rejoice in the knowledge that I am the surrogate mother of a new race of beings. I will keep their secret until the future, when my golden hedgehog offspring will rule the world. Yes, I am very lucky indeed.
The original five plumbing stories published in SUM FLUX, V.3 are here:
There's probably a market for them these days Jeanine?
Can't deny this is the best kidney stone story I'm aware of - although I'd far rather you'd never had to tell it.
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Jeannine: The crystalline figurine is beautiful.
Hmmm.
So THAT is what hospitalized my Dad for a week in LA circa Summer, 1967!
Boy, I know it was painful to my Dear Dad, poor guy!
I hope, I hope, I hope and pray you stay safe.
I envy you living in New Hampshire, my birthplace, and my fun, first five years.
Boy, in late 1953, when we moved to Long Beach, California, the little boy, Armando, wondered, Hmmm, winter is late this year. So, I asked my Dad, When, oh When would the snow finally come.
Never, was my Dad's reply. And he explained.
Boy, I was FURIOUS!
I LOVED the frolic of snow!
It took a long time to overcome the loss of snow.