I went to the urologist yesterday. It was part regular check-up, part because of some ongoing kidney stone pain I’ve been having. I develop kidney stones on a fairly regular basis, and sometimes they can be quite painful. The analysis the lab did of my urine showed a high amount of blood, one of the surest signs of a stone. There’s really not a whole lot you can do for a kidney stone, particularly small ones. You just have to let them take the time to pass.
However, some doctors in Italy have developed a new treatment, and my doctor decided to put me on it. It’s called the Italian Protocol. Now, although it’s very cool to be on a treatment that sounds like the name of a Ludlum novel, that’s not why I am writing. See, the treatment involves taking muscle relaxers right before bedtime. Because the urethra is just one long muscle (and longer in some than others, if you know what I mean and I think you do), the hope is that it will relax, open wider, and allow for a larger urine stream and thus a greater chance for small stones to come out. But that’s not why I am writing. No, I am writing because the medicine I am taking for this is called Flomax. That’s right. Flomax. Flomax, because apparently Morepee wasn’t subtle enough.