When someone asks you if you would like a catheter, you should pretty much always decline.

So I went to the urologist today (don’t you love hearing about my personal medical trials?) But wait, this is where I talk about me. Just me. What I am completely absorbed by at this moment, whether that be Rachel Maddow,  the sex I may or may not be having, or the contents of my urine. So now that we’ve re-established that …

There’s going to be lots of testing. Blood will be drawn. Cups will be peed in. Catheters may apparently be applied, with or without an introductory cocktail (without being the doctor’s prefered method). He found a second, larger stone in my left kidney that looks, to me, like a giant fiery asteroid poised to destroy a large swath of Western civilization. 3, maybe 4 mm. The one I had last Friday was 2. But the doctor seems determined to punch it in the face, metaphorically, and so I will pee in jars and he will do tests and I will drink water like water has never been drunk before.

Also, only 1 six ounce serving of meat per day, and low sodium. Just in time for Doobie’s eastern style barbecue engagement party extravaganza.

Awesome. Also, I thought the title of the post might be tactless, but then decided it was totally tactless, disgusting and it amused me. So there.