Good grief! I just now realized that I didn't tell about what we did in Anaheim beyond that we delivered Jess' stuff to her.This should also explain the reference to "kidney stone" I made in the previous post.
Well, Terry and I spent Friday with Jess at the Discovery Hall in Santa Ana. Jess thought they were going to have an "explosive" exhibit from the Myth Busters, but that didn't start until Saturday. Still, it's a very interesting, kids' oriented, hands-on place that was very entertaining...until the kids showed up. Then it got loud. As loud as four or five school bus loads of sixth graders can make it. And trust me, that's LOUD!
We beat feet and traveled over to the Bower Art/History Museum. Much quieter. They had a gallery dedicated to the works of Chuck Jones. But "that's [not] all folks!" They also had a special display on the mummification of animals as votives to the gods. There was also a presentation about blood sacrifice made by the Mayans and other cultures. And another about the early history of Upper California. And no little humans making lots of noise.
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Saturday, Terry and I traveled south to Carlsbad, CA just north of San Diego to visit with old friends Ellie and Wayne whom we had not seen in over 30 years. (Thank goodness for the internet and Christmas card letters!) It was like we had never parted.
I wasn't feeling well, however, and felt worse as the day went on. We went to take a walk around one of the lagoons that's been set aside as a nature preserve and then to a mexican restaurant for lunch. By then I ws nearly doubled over with pain in my lower back and nausea, too boot.
I ordered a bowl of tortilla soup ("guaranteed to cure all that ills you" according to the menu) but got only two spoonfuls of broth before it was decided that I needed to get to the hospital ASAP. Lunch was bagged up and off we rushed to the ER at Scripps.
I was in the door less than two minutes before I was swept into a bed, had my vitals examined and had blood drawn. I was administered a shot of morphine and whisked off for a Cat Scan.
The first dose of pain killer didn't work and my pain went from 8-9 on a scale of 10 to 11. A second shot of morphine was given and a diagnosis came back that I had a 4 mm diameter kidney stone that had (at the time of the Cat Scan) almost passed into my bladder but was hung up in the area of the sphincter muscle that prevents urine from flowing the wrong way. The ER Doc was amazed I wasn't complaining of even more pain than I was. (They consider a 5 mm stone the maximum passable size.) "Most people with a stone that size," he said, "come in to the ER saying it feels like they've been shot."
In any case, the second shot of morphine--or the quick ride back from radiology--jarred that sucker lose. Soon after I was feeling fine. (Maybe that was the morphine too, but by then I didn't care.)
Scrips in hand, Wayne took me to a local CVS where I got more pain killer and a generic form of Flowmax. Now I felt no pain, but had to pee every two hours.
Being under the influence of prescription narcotics, Ellie and Wayne insisted we stay with them for the night. (Did I mention that Wayne is an attorney?) So we went to their home and finished the doggy-bagged meal we had started seven hours earlier. (Maybe the tortilla soup did do me some good after all.)
By Sunday morning, I was feeling fine and, after breakfast, Terry and I bid farewell to Ellie and Wayne and headed back to our motel room in Anaheim.
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Sunday we had a lovely lunch/dinner with Jessica before she had to go to work. Terry and I then sat in the motel spa for half an hour and then packed the truck for an early Monday departure. I was feeling fine with no after effects from the kidney stone and had stopped taking the prescribed pain pills.
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