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Urgent…Behind The Tombstone 014

...through pain you will gain


Oct 15


Sitting in my car parked at Cresthill trying to keep calm on this Friday morning. In twenty minutes, I'm about to walk in to meet the new doctor in my case, Dr. Bernaert, a vascular surgeon. "Might as well wait out here instead of inside so early" I mutter to myself shaking my head.


So for now, I'm studying the snow lightly drifting down to my windows, coating my car, shielding me from the outside world. It brings me a deep sense of peace and protection even though I'm thinking about how I just wasted another morning appointment with my urologist. The fourth in three weeks since this started. Still undiagnosed and unimproved.


“Yes doc, I'm still in pain. It's not as crippling as before but it's still an excruciating eight on your little frowny face chart of pain” I said. She still didn't seem too impressed with my case as she talked about sensitive testicles and abdominal cramping. I'm not even sure why I went to see her again.


Watching the snowflakes enter the window as they swirl around my smoke exiting, I take another hit and start to think about my situation. Trying to connect the medical dots, symptoms, and outcomes - terrifying outcomes.


Loudly in my mind it reverberates “This is a vascular surgeon I'm about to see! He studies and has worked on numerous stroke victims and all kinds of other blood vessel and circulatory disorders.” Serious health problems are his specialty. His CV on the Clinic's website elaborates on all of his numerous successful surgeries.


But I'm forty, eat well, and am in good physical condition with no preexisting troubles. This is more like a pain in the ass than a pain between the legs. I just want to know whats going on and how to remedy it. I'm so tired of feeling like someone keeps kicking me square in the balls every five minutes.


No doctor, nurse, tech, or medical professional I have seen over the last twenty-some days have identified any actual diagnosis or cause yet. Only two little bits of data to put on my chart, which are simply pain and imagery.


As I ash out my window, a couple of snowflakes land on my hand. I watch them in slow motion, stopping their long frozen descent from far above, suddenly turning into cold droplets reflecting the grey skies above. Melting as suddenly and as seemingly from far away as how my pain started.


I get to his medical suite with ten minutes to spare. I sit alone amongst the antiseptic smelling magazines and cold fluorescent lighting. Trying to meditate as I wait for the nurse to call me, I close my eyes and lean my head back.


All of the articles' titles seem so frivolous compared to what my internal headline reads: ”Something is seriously wrong with me but no one knows what!"


Now I'm gonna see this surgeon for what I don't know and not knowing is an itch I can't scratch. There are no clues, no signs, only pain and a grainy image of my insides.


I try to quell the nervousness and fright trembling like an earthquake under my skin with deep breathing.


“This way please,” the smiling nurse states, in a cheery washed-out tone. She leads me to an office and begins to take my vitals.


“BP is kind of high” she says like she's ordering her usual eggs and toast for breakfast at the greasy spoon. “I know. It's been up since this pain started twenty-some days ago” I reply dryly. She finishes with the standard slew of questions when seeing a new doctor and leaves me by myself waiting for the doc.


Surprisingly faster than expected, I'm used to at least an eight minute wait, the doctor comes in. He hurriedly asks my name in his thick German accent. I nod my head in agreement and look at him with big eyes.


My first take of him is a kind man with an honest face that has sharp features, in his upper fifties, and receding blond hair. He's a thin man of average height, a good sign he tries to practice what doctors preach about staying healthy.


He locks his blue eyes on mine and blurts out without smiling “Nice to meet you. I wish I would have met you sooner. I might have been able to save your kidney. What are you doing the rest of the weekend?”


"Uhhh" I get out as he cuts me off.


"Make arrangements and be back here in an hour for surgery prep. You're going to be here a while."


At that precise moment an avalanche slammed down on me. My vision of him in the room sank away, stretching out from me and all peripheral sight darkened as I became buried. His confident voice came to my ears as a fading distant whisper, slightly echoing in waves like a stone thrown into a forest pond.



Where would you like this story to go? Yes, you. That’s right READER, comment a direction or your favorite character you want to see more of.

More of this unfolds …Behind The Tombstone. And please remember...

Mayhap you could start the series here at Bone Rattler...


“Take the day. Before the day takes you.” — Seymour Toa

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