I spent last night in the ER with a kidney stone (boulder?) A tiny little thing that made it feel like my left kidney, and everything below it, had paid $20,000 to be killed off on Game of Thrones. I had a real moment of wondering how much Vicodin is too much Vicodin.
After trying to save myself the $150 ER copay, I gave up around 2 am and drove myself to the hospital. It probably wasn't my brightest move, but I really didn't want to load the kids in the car, and mess up their schedule for today. Thankfully, since I showed up shaking, in excruciating pain, white as a ghost, and dehydrated, the ER staff took pity on me and I was immediately hooked up to good meds and hydration.
It still amazes me that something so small (I have yet to actually see a kidney stone with my own two eyes), can make me feel that bad. It is better than all the crazy alternatives my paranoid mind usually goes to when faced with that kind of pain, though.
I was sprung from the ER around 7, and was home around 8 (after stopping at the store for some Gatorade and Advil, because the answer to the Vicodin question is it just doesn't help this sort of pain at all, and the doctors don't send you home with the good stuff.)
The fact is, I've been under a boatload of stress, lately. K's school situation for next year, or lack thereof, has definitely taken it's toll. My auto-immune issues flare up, and I just get sick like it's my job.
This morning after returning home, and before crashing on the couch, I had a conversation with another school that was offering us a program that wasn't right for K. I drifted off to sleep upset, and not wanting to face the world.
Then something magical happened. A few hours after falling asleep, my phone rang. I immediately recognized the phone number as the one school we really wanted for K. The school that seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel for us. A place that could be life changing for K. The school that had already told us there wasn't a spot for her at this time, and had been the cause of me breaking down into sobs these past few weeks more times than I'd like to admit.
I almost didn't answer. I was just too tired and too sick to hear them tell me, definitively, it was over. There were no more "maybes" to be thrown out. I just didn't have it in me to hear that, or to cry anymore, so I almost let the call go to voice mail.
At the last second, I answered. I braced myself for more bad news, but instead I was greeted by an excited voice on the other end, telling me there was good news! They had a spot for K if we still wanted it.
If I could have jumped through the phone and hugged this man, I would have. I thanked him about 20 times too many, and could barely hold an intelligent, or intelligible, conversation. I was too excited, almost not believing this was happening.
I really cannot convey the weight that has been lifted. Or how incredible it feels to not have to trudge to programs we know aren't a good fit, but might be our only options. To finally feel like something is going our way! Especially after last night, we really needed this!
Hope (real, live, hope!) has been handed to us. To K. And you know what? We deserve it!
So now I can go back to my couch nap and look forward to waking up, instead of being afraid of facing the world. That's a really good feeling.