Through thick and thin — and wild head spins

I was pretty sure it was in there.

I mean, it’s going on 23 years now and the mind starts to falter a bit. So just to quadruple confirm, I went to the replay.

As I fast-forwarded through our wedding video, there it was, plain as day. He said it, all right and not under duress or coercion, just to be clear.

“… for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health …”

Aha! Got him on a technicality. Poor guy is stuck.

This was one of the things that ran through my mind on Thanksgiving afternoon, mostly the “sickness and health” phrase, yo. I kept thinking, “Poor Kerry. Is this ever some kinda sick something!”

You see, I was convinced that one of two things was happening inside my person:

1 — I was having a kidney stone episode.

2 — An alien life form was about to stick its arm through my abdomen and greet my husband and the triage nurse standing next to my bed in the ER.

I was really, really praying for it to be the kidney stone, a move I’d come to regret.

Either way, kidney stone it was … and apparently, is. #whywontitgoawayalready


As I lay there …

Well, actually, that’s not quite right. Anyone who’s ever had a kidney stone can tell you that you can’t really lie down. Or stand up. Or sit. Or walk. Or move. Or be still. Or blink. Or breathe.

I mean, you can. It’s just that every time you do, you feel you might just fall right off the face of the planet into a worm hole of eternal decrepit decay and perpetual horrendousness.

In fact, you kind of hope you do because THAT’S HOW MUCH IT HURTS TO HAVE A KIDNEY STONE, PEOPLE.

Not that I want anyone reading these words to experience it. Ever. #goodgriefkidneystoneshurt

Because, even though I have survived childbirth (barely, BTW), several root canals, one tooth extraction, scarlet fever and a broken collarbone (not the most fun I’ve ever had), I can indeed substantiate the rumor that pretty much nothing hurts worse than the aforementioned.

And for some reason, when you’re having a kidney stone attack, people feel the need to remind you of how painful one is. “Did you know it hurts worse than labor pains?” came the repeated question.

Why yes, yes I do — as we speak, even.

And all I could think, other than the tremendous guilt that I was likely ruining Thanksgiving for my husband, kid and parents, was that poor Kerry made a promise to stick by me through thick and thin and sick and sin.

Speaking of sin, man, did I start the apocalypse in another life to warrant that little bugger or what?

Yet there he was, holding my hand and asking how he could help. The answer is, of course, nothing but time and billions of gallons of water help. Oh, and pain meds.

But even when my head started spinning around on my neck and I began hallucinating that I was Buffy, the Vampire Slayer (even SHE can’t vanquish kidney stones), he kept patting my back, telling me everything will be ok.

Aw. #thankskerry

Looks like I may still be stuck with this rotten little stone, but at least I married a pretty precious one.