28 Narrative Ethnography
My Experience with Kidney Stones
After a long week, I felt the need to treat myself and relax. I decided to cook the best alfredo pasta I have ever made. I got out my veggies: broccoli, mushroom, onions, bell peppers, and began preparing the meal. My veggies were fully cooked, laying in the white alfredo sauce, mixed with the fettuccine and shrimp. I ate to ecstasy… but little did I know what was waiting for me.
It’s Saturday morning, “I’m about to have an amazing day” I thought to myself. As I stretch on the bed, I quickly stop when I feel a tearing sensation in my stomach area. It scared me and I said to myself that I would never try that again. I move on the outer side of the bed to make my way to the restroom. After relieving myself, I started feeling a small stomach ache. I murmured “I should not have eaten that pasta so late last night; now I’m about to pay the consequences.” I intended to go wash my face but “the painnnnn…. Oh mon Dieu!!” I scream… The pain reached an intensified level that I did not anticipate. The pain persisted as I tried different positions – sitting, standing – nothing provided relief. I could no longer help myself, I thought that it was the right time to maybe let my roommate know what was going on with me.
Trembling with pain, I dialed her number and explained my situation. She rushed to my side and handed me medication for extreme stomach pain. Desperate for relief, I took two pills and sat on the living room floor with her, waiting for them to take effect. Baaba goes into her room for a moment and comes back with her mother on the phone, who wanted to pray for me.
With a weak voice, I greeted her and tried to explain my situation through the excruciating pain.
“Hello Auntie Regina,” I replied. She asked me what was going on and I tried to explain to her the best I could through the intense pain I was feeling. The one line I was holding on to from the prayer was Isaiah 53:5 – And by His wounds we are healed. I was kneeled into a little ball on the floor waiting for the pain to go away, I kept repeating to myself “Jesus, through your wounds I am healed! Jesus through your wounds I am healed!”
As my agony persisted, I started exploring the idea of going to the nearest hospital near me which was the University of Iowa Hospital and Clinics. This was a decision I never had to make before, and therefore I was unsure of what to do. “Should I call for an ambulance, or should I try to get there on my own?” Making it even harder, I didn’t have a car, and it was moving day at my apartment complex. The streets in the apartment were filled with parked cars, making my decision even tougher. I felt my anxiety rising and wondered why all of this was happening at such a bad time. I finally told Baaba to call my neighbor because I needed immediate medical attention. I was scared, I wondered if I was going to die because I was now facing the unknown and nobody could answer all the possible questions running through my mind.
At the hospital, my roommate walks me to the emergency room. I vividly remember the sense of hopelessness when walking through the long, infinite, white hallways of the hospital. Strangely, no one came to offer assistance, or even a wheelchair; which left me perplexed. I was in such excruciating pain that I was seconds away from blacking out. As we reached the Emergency waiting room, there was a large number of patients waiting for their turn. We walked to the window to get help. There was a man sitting down on a chair, looking a bit careless, asking me an infinite amount of questions while I was squirming myself in the hope of reducing my pain. “Is it the time to update my address information and phone number sir?” I told my roommate. I could never come close to explain the frustration I felt from the carelessness and lack of urgency of this man. I was disappointed. He told me to sit and wait for them to call my name. I was desperate…
Fearing for my life, I wondered if I would ever receive the help I needed. Finally, a nurse called my name, offering a glimmer of hope. She was kind and empathetic, examining me and alerting the doctor. I only had a brief encounter with the doctor. In about five to seven minutes of questions, he gathered enough information before leaving me with the nurse, who explained that I had kidney stones.
To this day, I feel immense gratitude towards this nurse for her compassion during the traumatic experience that this was for me. Weeks later, the hospital sent me a survey to share my experience, and I was shocked to find that I was still affected by the indifference of the man at the window who did not care to help me even when he saw that I was in pain. My recovery was challenging because I had never anticipated that such a tragic situation would one day happen to me. That day, I realized that I was living in an unrealistic bubble. It felt like an epiphany to accept that I was not immune to illness and that life is fragile. Such events made me take better care of myself and live with intention. I am grateful to the Lord that I had family and friends around me that loved and cared for me to get me through this situation.