Lord of the Stones

On a restful Monday afternoon in mid-June, I was preparing for a trip to the U.S. to visit family. My grandson came to Seoul for a visit starting in early June. We’d traipsed around the country for several days and spent a week in Japan visiting Mount Fuji (a lifelong dream for my anime-fan teenager). He spent the afternoon organizing his return luggage, then took a nap. I finished some chores. With no forewarning, I suddenly felt discomfort immediately followed by the most exquisite pain I’ve ever experienced. As the minutes ticked away, the pain got worse. I could hardly move. Nausea set in. Lying on the bed didn’t bring relief. I was curled up, twisted in the throes of agony.

On a scale of one to 10, kidney stone pain can be right at the top, coming in at nine or 10 in severity. Medically, though, kidney stone treatment is around four to six, depending on the procedure needed. Kidney stones are so much “fun.” Many of my friends and acquaintances have had experiences with these precious “gems.”

My first battle was about 20 years ago in the U.S., when a simple lab test suggested I might have a problem. X-rays, CT scans and other tests revealed a major stone. And it was a mighty one — about 1 centimeter across. Lodged tightly in the kidney pelvis, the stone wasn’t going anywhere on its own or with any easy therapy. Smaller stones often can be “flushed” out with high volume fluid consumption (some say beer is good, but medical science says the alcohol is not helpful). Many stones will pass on their own, with a nominal amount of pain. Larger stones, such as mine, needed something more radical.

The urologist explained three possible procedures. The first was shock wave treatment, and the second and third were surgical options. Somehow, I was supposed to make the right choice. Since I was in the U.S., I imagine liability concerns constrained the doctor when he refused to recommend the most suitable procedure for my condition. How is a nonmedical professional supposed to make the right choice?

As fate would have it, I made the wrong choice. By choosing the less-invasive shockwave treatment, which failed miserably, my stone removal cost extra thousands of dollars in copays and deductibles. Along with several hospital and doctor office visits. My suspicious nature makes me wonder whether the patient (me) was simply a profit center.

Wouldn’t it have been better to avoid unnecessary expense and repetitive procedures by telling the patient not just of choices but of recommendations? I had to pay for four procedures to get rid of the big stone and suffered for many months. Over the next few years, I’ve had a wealth of stones. Some have passed on their own, a few needed invasive procedures.

My most recent problem needing surgery was seven years ago, after a few years of precious-stone poverty. This was the first time in Korea that I’d had to seek urology treatment, but thankfully, the stone was only causing minimal pain, and we got it early. After the various tests to discover the nature of the stone, my doctor recommended the lesser of the two invasive procedure, which took care of the situation effectively.

So you might imagine that after seven years of no problems, this new stone took me by surprise. I called out to my grandson several times, but he didn’t hear me. I reached for my phone and called a neighbor who came right away. She came into the house, found me knotted up on the bed and immediately called 119.

Since I live across the street from the fire station, the crew were at my place in minutes. I remember they checked my blood sugar level and took my blood pressure and pulse, but other than that I certainly remember very little. They trundled me out of the house, down the elevator, into the street and onto the ambulance. A short ride later, to a nearby regional hospital, I was in the ER, hooked up to an IV with a strong painkiller.

By the time they recalled the urology staff (the hospital had closed hours earlier for the day), the pain meds had taken good effect, and I felt “fine.” But when the doctor recommended shock wave treatment, I was skeptical because of my previous experience. However, he assured me that this was the best way to go, so I placed my trust in him and his staff. I needed a second treatment a week later, but after two weeks, the stone had crumbled and passed from existence.

When the doctor told me my precious stone was no more, I was elated. A wealth of such “precious” stones is something I can do without.

Rev. Steven L. Shields, FRAS {slshields@gmail.com} has lived in Korea for many years, beginning in the 1970s. A fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, he is also a life member of the Royal Asiatic Society of Korea, of which he was a director, vice president and president. He was a copy editor of The Korea Times in 1977. The views expressed in this column are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect The Korea Times’ editorial stance.