Nearly fifteen months waiting for an operation. Then a week with a stent, a string taped to my penis, and a cushion permanently attached to my backside.
Of course, there was one final indignity. Getting the bloody thing out.
There’s something distinctly odd about having someone hold your penis and tug on a string attached to something inside you.
I’d spent a week dreading it. The actual removal was extremely painful, thankfully only for a few moments, followed by another day or so of discomfort.
After nearly fifteen months of waiting, the NHS had finally managed to do something quickly. Unfortunately, it involved pulling a string attached to my internal plumbing.
But now it’s finally over.
The stent is out. As far as I know, the kidney stones are gone.
No more waiting lists for waiting lists. No more outdated scans. No more worrying that my granddaughters will accidentally rearrange my internal plumbing.
For the first time in over a year, I’m beginning to feel optimistic.
I might even get through my next hospital appointment without somebody losing my paperwork.
Perhaps I shouldn’t get carried away.