When Mistress says that this herd travels, she isn't kidding. It isn't necessary to travel long distances to play pony, but it certainly can be a lot of fun.
And a challenge at odd moments.
So it was with a great sense of adventure that the Proprietor and ponies of Aphrodite's Meadow traveled to the CTK Ranch just outside of Austin, TX for a weekend of games, competition and general nuzzling. Mistress, Stormy and I had been talking about doing this all year. We had all purchased our plane tickets in the late spring just after Camp and had spent some time figuring out those logistics. It's not easy traveling together when you make your reservations separately, but through the miracle of modern chutzpah, we managed it pretty well. Sort of.
Itinerary change, anyone?
Stormy and I chose not to trust the airlines with our tack. We both have heard horror stories about people checking their tack at the counter, never to see it again. We both have some serious investment in time, emotion, thought and money in the tack that we wear and it's too meaningful to lose. So we shipped our tack to the ranch about a week ahead of the event. Besides, a tack bag would have constituted a second bag and airlines are charging nothing short of your first born child for extra bags these days. Shipping wasn't cheap - about the same as checking a second bag - but at least we knew things would make it to their destination.
Stormy was traveling out of Hartford while Mistress and I departed from Boston. In addition, Stormy had to head out a day later than us because of a work commitment. It's not easy being self-employed, especially in a down economy. So opportunities have to be grabbed when they present themselves. I arrived at Mistress' house the day before we were to fly out, parking my car in front of her house in mid-afternoon.
Now if you've been following my story, you know my back tends to cause me pain now and then. It's down to an annoying background issue from the flaming, summer-ruining tribulation that it was, so it was odd to me that it should hurt more than usual that afternoon. And on the wrong side. I figured that the ride in the car had bothered me a little and brushed the pain off, thinking it would go away once I had a chance to walk around and stretch.
I thought wrong.
Now look. I was taking a week's vacation, traveling to Texas to play pony, and I'd been looking forward to this for months. Quality time with Mistress and Stormy is precious to me and nothing - repeat nothing - was going to ruin it. Period. I hit the denial button as hard as I could and forged ahead, giving Mistress a hug and jumping into her van to go shopping with her for some last-minute items.
Trouble is, my denial gear wasn't working very well. I knew there was conversation in the van as we traveled around and did errands, but my half of it consisted almost entirely of monosyllabic grunts acknowledging that someone was talking and little else. I just couldn't get my mind off the pain in my back and the anxiety it was causing. I don't do canceled plans or ruined vacations with any sort of grace, and I had no intention of changing my plans. Attempts to compensate by sitting or standing differently failed and Mistress was starting to notice. She already knew about the pain, but its extent was something I had tried to cover up.
By the time we got home from shopping, the pain had subsided a little and I thought it was over. Mistress' partner R had made her way home and the three of us decided to go out for dinner. We went to an Irish pub in my car and had no sooner arrived and been seated when someone hit me in the back with a mace. Or at least, that's how it felt. We ordered, talked a bit and then I went silent again. This time, I couldn't hide anything. The white knuckles gave it away. That and my inability to sit still. Just as our food arrived, I had to confess that my appetite had vaporized. We got up from the table and asked the waitress to box up our meals. Mistress retrieved my car and drove me to the closest emergency room while R walked home with the food. Luckily, things were all close at hand.
By this time, I knew what was going on. When asked what I suspected by the triage nurse, I told her it was a kidney stone. This would be the second one of these buggers I had dealt with in eight years, which doesn't make me a prolific stone mason, but what timing! The triage nurse took the information and told me to have a seat in the waiting room. I chose a spot in a corner behind a screen that was reasonably private and Mistress and I sat.
And sat, and sat, and sat.
After thirty minutes, the pain in my back suddenly vanished. I mean, it went away completely and something left me with the ontological certitude that it wasn't going to come back. At about the same time, I realized that I had to pee like the race horse that I try to be. Knowing that hospital emergency departments only tend to ask for a urine sample right after you have relieved yourself, I walked over to the triage desk and requested a specimen cup, "Just in case." I went to the bathroom and, while doing what I was in there to do, I had the unbelievable good fortune to pass the stone while aiming for the cup. Proud as a peacock - not to mention relieved as hell - I emerged from the bathroom crowing and waving the specimen cup around for all to see. I had accomplished something!
And still we sat. Two more hours crept by while I continued to marvel at my sample with it's tiny little boulder knocking around like so much gravel in a little stream. The population of the entire waiting room had turned over twice, but still my name had not been called. Mistress was annoyed and suggested that I go and ask what was going on. I work in health care and know about long waits in emergency departments, so I was inclined to wait just a bit longer. Besides, I hate confrontation. I would probably still be sitting there today, but Mistress decided that enough was enough. She walked into the registration office to ask what was going on. I could see her standing there, back to me, no doubt asking very pointed questions of the staff that seemed to be getting just a little agitated.
A few moments later, a nurse came out and called my name. It seems that triage at this ED is a two-stage process and triage nurse number one had not handed me off to triage nurse number two. As a result, my information was not in the computer and nobody knew I was there.
Nice.
I went in to speak to triage nurse number two, giving her all of my information and hugging my specimen close to me. I had gotten somewhat attached to it and didn't really want to let it go. In the end, though, I had to turn it over, and it disappeared. I was ushered into a treatment room and awaited the physician.
The doctor was an affable, friendly man who also suffered from kidney stones, so we hit it off quite nicely. After his consult and an analysis of the stone, he suggested a CT scan. By this point, however, it was after ten o'clock at night. Mistress and I were ravenously hungry, my pain was gone, the trip was saved, and all we wanted to do was eat and sleep. Still, I welcomed a prescription for Percocet just in case something went haywire while 30,000 feet over Virginia. I declined the CT scan - having had one in August, after all - and the two of us headed home by way of the local pharmacy.
Once home, Mistress and I had our dinner from the restaurant - which was fabulous - and spoke briefly with R. Apparently Stormy had called while we were out and R had very nonchalantly informed him that we were both at the emergency room but would probably be back before long. By that time, R had heard from Mistress that I was fine and the crisis had ebbed, so R could reassure Stormy. Still, I wish I could have listened in on that one.
Very quickly, it was bedtime. After all, Mistress and I had to get up at 4:45 the next morning for the walk to the train station complete with luggage. This was going to be very exciting.
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