The pain shot through me like white hot knives. My back arched in response, waking me up. I hesitated to acknowledge what came next. After several seconds, I gave in. I stood from my comfy napping place in the armchair.
I placed my feet very carefully, but each step still caused a jolt of pain to shoot like lightening through me. Thirteen paces, and tears cascaded down my face.
With familiar dread, I felt the nausea rise. It had been a long three days. The hallway distorted and lengthened as in a nightmare. Just seven steps, and I'd reach the toilet.
It seemed to take an hour. I mused on how time stretches, when we're hurting . The urge to pee built into an almost intolerable pain. My knees felt as if they were going to buckle. The smiling faces in the pictures on the walls mocked me. Open sobs began to escape my throat.
I sat on the cool seat, and vomited into the trash can. I let the urine stream begin. I felt a 'pop' as the stone passed. I knew from experience that this journey of misery had reached it's end, but another was sure to follow.
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