Dear Kidney Stone,
I never knew 3mm could be so enormous. You certainly pack a punch for such a tiny thing, and that isn’t a compliment. I hate you with a hatred I hadn’t known existed until your little buddy showed up a couple of years ago. I cursed him the way I curse you now, and he eventually went on his way leaving me with painful memories, a hospital bill, and the bladder of a pregnant woman. Luckily, my bladder recovered and things went back to normal. All was right with the world.
Then you decided to show up.
Out of nowhere, I felt like I was Caesar and you’re bloody little self was the knife Brutus so famously used to stab his BFF. I knew in an instant it was one of your kind. The words that left my mouth were not so ladylike, but neither is walking hunched over gasping every time I took a step with my right foot. I mean, unless I’m a 95 year old lady with a twisted ankle. Then it’s totally ladylike.
It’s been a couple of weeks now, and you are slowly and tortuously ruining my life. Work? Nope. Dates? Nope. Walking downstairs to get ice to try and freeze you into submission? Nuh-uh. Taylor Swift concert I’m supposed to attend tomorrow as the most amazing birthday present ever? I bet you can guess the answer to that one.
Really, what I’m getting at is that you are an evil son of a bitch, and I long for the day that I never have to feel you ever again. You freaking suck. Big time. Not just like a little bit. A whole lot of it. So yeah, I hate you.