Facebook... Thy Name is Fraud

Followers of my blog already know I am not a fan of Facebook (see Brave New... What?!? blog from 2011). I had given it a brief try several years ago and found it so appallingly loathsome I jumped that ship o' fools vowing never to go back. Fast forward to 2014.

One of  the downsides of writing my book is my publisher insisting I needed a "Facebook presence." So I went to my dormant account, set up a page for my book, and reluctantly re-entered the Facebook world. I vowed to keep an open mind. Maybe I would finally "get" why everyone thinks Facebook is so fab, finally figure out what I was apparently missing.

Since returning to Facebook in 2014 I probably visit the site two to five times a day. I am astonished at how much stuff my "friends" post on a daily basis.

Most of it is either embarrassingly trivial, revealing what I imagine to be a person having a very boring day with too much time on their hands (read a book!!!). A lot of it is pretty impersonal, just links to articles and videos, etc. Some of these can be interesting, I admit, but would have more meaning to me if my "friend" had sent it to me personally by email with maybe a few words about why it had meaning to them. Some posts are embarrassingly personal revealing a clueless braggart or a raging drama queen.

I only have thirty-four "friends" on Facebook and sure as hell don't want anymore. It is the ultimate "Emporer has no clothes" experience for me. Fast food friendship for sure, potentially destructive as it is devoid of the key nutrients required for true healthy friendships.

Well, I know I have firmly established myself as a dinosaur now and am treading perilously close to the tar pits, but being me, I shall keep going. True friendship requires work and one on one time. "Liking" someone's post is no substitute for this. A true friend is a precious person, worthy of personal attention, not someone to be clumped in with casual acquaintances or people you've never even met. ( Yes , I know you can sort your "friends" in levels of importance on Facebook. More smoke and mirrors I say.)

I get in touch with my friends one on one via e-mail, texts, and (gasp!) phone calls. I want to hear their thoughts and reactions. I want substance, not a "like."

Many would say Facebook is harmless and I am taking it all too seriously. While it is clear to me that Facebook is here to stay, I will not go quietly into that dark night of superficial sharing and folks I've never met being called "friends."

"Following " Facebook is the ultimate trip  over the cliffs to death by meaninglessness courtesy of Pied Piper Mark Zuckerberg (exhausted long ago by laughing all the way to the proverbial bank). Take the time spent on Facebook and invest it in cultivating real friendships near and far. One true friend is worth all the illusory Facebook ones, believe me.

Here's what I think: Maybe Facebook is good for something I have yet to figure out, but it has nothing to do with real friendship. (I won't even dignify "Twitter" with a blog. The word TWIT covers it perfectly.)

Passing the Time Whilst Passing a Kidney Stone

The story begins on January 31. I had spent over an hour shoveling snow and noticed an ache in my back. The pain got progressively worse and moved from the base of my spine, my backaches’ usual neighborhood hangout, to my lower right.

It increased through the night making sleep impossible and by 7am was so agonizing it began forcing me to vomit. Force is the only word to use. The pain causes your abdominal muscles to spasm and clench violently, bringing nuances of meaning to the words gut wrenching.

As it was the weekend I tried to tough it out in hopes things would improve and I could visit my regular doc. After three more hours of suffering and heaving I headed to my local Urgent Care. I will try to be uncharacteristically brief here summing up the five hours I spent being treated. After urinalysis, blood work, and a CT scan the results were announced.

The doc informed me I had an unwanted visitor in the form of a 5mm (size does matter, more on that momentarily) kidney stone. The scan showed it sitting at the end of my ureter, a thin tube connecting the kidney and bladder. Its location was the “Good News” as he put it (alarming implication there was “Bad News” to follow duly noted) because the excruciating pain occurs as the stone travels from kidney to bladder. Once in the bladder things go more smoothly apparently.

The foreshadowed “Bad News” had to do with the size of my stone. Stones under 5mm are deemed likely to pass on their own you see, while larger stones usually require interventions ranging from mildly unnerving to rather alarming.

In the belief that it is my duty to inform as well as entertain, said interventions are:

Shockwave Lithotripsy – This is the use of intense soundwaves to pulverize the stone/s into pieces easier to pass. Not too alarming, it is an outpatient procedure supposedly causing minimal discomfort and definitely involving no slicing and dicing.

Ureteroscopy & Laser Lithotripsy –A probe is inserted through the urinary opening (!) into your bladder and onwards into your ureter seeking out the offending stone/s and blasting it/them into passable pieces with lasers. Often a stent gets left behind for several days. Research indicated the stent makes you feel like peeing 24/7 and is not a joy to have removed. I prefer probes and lasers on Star Trek, and let’s not even discuss stents!

Percutaneous Nephrolithotomy – That name just does not bode well, and indeed, the procedure it describes requires surgery and one night’s hospitalization minimum. A small incision is made in your back allowing shattering and removal of the stone/s. A temporary stent is left in place. ‘Nuff said!

As I waited for test results my pain disappeared. The doc said it might mean the stone had dropped into my bladder, definitely a cause for celebration.

I was sent home, happy and hopeful, with meds to ease the passage, meds to ease the nausea, and meds to control the pain. I was given a urine strainer and told to use it to catch the stone (more on this shortly) for lab analysis. There are basically four categories of kidney stone. You need to know what kind yours is to figure the cause, thereby facilitating lifestyle changes in an attempt to avoid ever getting another one. Bottom line, you really want to catch this stone.

I was also told to call a urologist Monday morning (Is it just me or does this stuff invariably happen on a weekend?) and get a follow-up appointment within three days. As is so often the case, the appointment booker at the urologist’s office did not share the urgent care doc’s sense of –well – urgency. She gave me an appointment eleven days in the future. 

What follows may contain TMI of a personal nature as opposed to the kidney stone factoid TMI already presented for your delectation. Consider yourself warned.

My eleven day wait to see a specialist began pretty well. I was having no pain, but also no luck catching my stone.

Being female, I have always found collecting urine samples messy and difficult, often failing altogether. Trying to get every drop of pee into a urine strainer has all these issues. And because you have been instructed to drink a gallon of water a day there’s a lot of pee to strain!

I was complaining about this, expressing fear that my stone might have already eluded capture, to a nurse friend who remarked I needed a toilet hat. It’s a clever little gizmo you place under the toilet seat to catch your pee featuring a spout making straining a snap. Note to self: Get a toilet hat when you see the urologist.

Eight days out I experienced another attack. My meds helped me survive without screaming, writhing or puking. This alerted me my stone was still on board. I went from the happy conviction that my stone had gone into my bladder days ago to an anxiety-filled vigilant state of wondering when the next attack was coming. I also began anthropomorphizing my stone as a male entity due to the incredible pain it caused, naming it Beelzebub (demon ruler of Hell), Bub for short.

Bub has given me one more major attack since. It took my nausea meds and three percocets over a three hour period to just manage to keep me from hurling. I was squirming in pain but at least not screaming. People, I went through three hours of hard labor with my firstborn and it was a breeze off the ocean on a balmy day compared to this!

I finally got to see a urologist a few days ago. I had an x-ray to locate the wily Bub but it was inconclusive. I was sent home with a toilet hat (yes!) and instructed to add lemon juice to my daily gallon of water. (I am now squeezing lemons to add to my water. I couldn’t help noticing a peculiar similarity between my juicer and my toilet hat, right down to the handy pouring spout. The lemon juice requires straining and being bright yellow is also making me think of … well, I don’t need to say it do I? Ewwwww!)

I  have another appointment in a few days. They will search for Bub with other methods if I have failed to pass him. The alternatives to facilitating Bub’s eviction will be discussed. You remember the alternatives, right?

Armed with my toilet hat, I am beyond determined to catch the trespassing bastard. I want to experience the “thrill of victory” inherent in capturing my elusive prey, and avoid “the agony of defeat” inherent in the alternatives. I yearn for the satisfaction of imprisoning Bub in a specimen jar and knowing he is lab-bound to be ground into powder, a fate he oh-so-richly deserves.

So here I sit, day 17 of Bub’s siege. Kidney stones can take weeks to pass. It is an anxiety-filled waiting game. In the interest of leaving you on an informative and upbeat note I have composed a list.    

                     “Top 10 Things To Do While Waiting To Pass a Kidney Stone”

#10 - Learn Russian. Read any Dostoyevsky novel in the original. Nobody does suffering like the Russians.

#9 – “Google” kidney stones. Read everything you can find. Believe it or not I actually left plenty out. Contemplating the gruesome alternatives awaiting you upon failure to pass your stone may help you endure the rites of passage.*

#8 – Learn French. Read Les Miserables in the original. A few hundred pages devoted to misery will add perspective.

#7 – Amuse yourself with word play (*rites of passage).

#6 – Learn quilting and make one.

#5 – Binge watch your favorite TV comedies.

#4 – Learn Italian. Read Dante’s Inferno in the original (best literary suggestion saved for last). You’re in Purgatory waiting for the stone to pass and will traverse every level of Hell when it does. Familiarize yourself with the territory.

#3 – Grab a partner and try every position in the Kama Sutra. (This list needed one naughty suggestion.) Maybe all the contortions and bumping and grinding will dislodge the stone.

#2 – Eat chocolate. Yes, I think chocolate is better than sex. Chocolate has never let me down.

And drumroll please….

#1 – Think of every person you loathe. Wish a kidney stone on them all. Chant their names like a mantra, envisioning their suffering. I find it quite therapeutic actually.

In closing, remember… this too shall pass.

Here's what I think: This is the quintessential example of making lemonade when life hands you lemons. All possible puns intended.