As I sit here composing this piece, at this very moment, no, that moment is past, at this very moment, no, that one is past now. These moments go by too quickly to latch on to one. Anyway, I’m psyching myself up for another kidney stone surgery, which will be enshrined in moments past by the time you read this piece and once again I’ll either be stone-free or off to that big urology lab in the sky.
I really don’t have to psyche myself up because I’ve had so many of these destoning procedures, I’ve asked my doctor if I could assist him. I almost look forward to a nice snooze in the operating room and a few days of rest, provided I don’t expire and thereby enjoy an eternity of restful, snoozing moments.
You might be interested in the history of kidney stones, or maybe not. I’m going to tell it anyway, so if you’re not interested in this subject, flip back to Jo Fredell Higgins’ historical piece on page 4 or thereabouts in this edition of The Voice. By the way, Jo, I’m sorry I got to this bit of history before you did. I hope you can hear my apology back there on page 4 through all this newsprint. If not, I’ll try to write louder.
Kidney stones first appeared in the Stone Age, appropriately enough, when a local Paleolithic caveman passed one. He thought it was a miracle to have a rock coming out of his body. This began to happen to others in his social group. These early kidney stones were granite, because calcium oxalate hadn’t been discovered yet and the diet of early man contained large amounts of quartz, feldspar, and dirt. Because of the durability of the stones, many cavemen collected them and used the stones to build their huts. The huts were obviously for future generations because the stones were relatively small, and construction took a long time and always ran over budget. Others, deterred by the length of time it took to amass a collection of stones large enough to construct a snuff box, let alone a hut, used their stones for countertops in the hope of one day discovering what a counter is.
Archaeologists have unearthed many cave paintings of kidneys adorned in what appears to be deity-like animal skin attire. This leads them to conclude that kidneys were worshipped as gods and the stones they produced, manna from bladder heaven. I have uttered many God-references when trying to pass one of the heavenly gifts.
Later on, Susharta, who lived in ancient India with other ancient Indians, wrote that kidney stones were not gifts from the kidney gods but developed in people of the Homo sapien persuasion, and this is true, from urine and deranged phlegm. He assumed the phlegm had to be deranged to be cohabitating down there with urine. Fortunately, the urine wasn’t deranged or it might have ended up with phlegm in the nostrils, resulting in some yucky runny noses. If you have an inquiring mind and want to know more, go to your local library and check out Susharta’s Asutu in Mesopotamia, copyright 3200 B.C., ISBN: 000-0-00000-000-1.
Still later, Ammonius of Alexandria developed a technique for removing a kidney stone by grabbing it with a hook and smashing it with a blunt instrument. For some reason, his technique never took off, so he went on to produce a nasty, eye-and-nose-burning cleaning liquid and named it after himself: Twenty Mule Team Borax.
It is all the history I can stand for today, so I’ll close and go treat my phlegm and urine to a nice quantity of alcohol, then paint pictures of kidneys on the bathroom wall to be enjoyed by my family and discovered by future generations of realtors.