Paul Blais: The Next Thing

Kidney stones, I am told, are quite painful to pass. I wasn’t looking forward to the experience. I had blood in my urine. That all by itself is pretty disconcerting. Later, the urologist told me that I most likely had a stone rattling around one of my kidneys. Time for an CT scan to locate it and a quick scope into my bladder- there might be a lesion somewhere in that whole system- a cut caused by one of those nasty stones.

But before the doctor’s appointment… you know how the brain likes to play its worry game on you. Horrible scenarios start to play out in my head. I start to Google causes of blood in urine. 'Bout scared myself half to death. My wife, Jennifer finally told me to stop reading Google results. Google is not a doctor. Yes, it did come up with kidney stones. But that didn't have that magnetism of other, more serious things. Doing an image search didn't help.

Finally I got into see the doctor. They did the blood tests- with needles! They did the urine sample. And the doctor helped me come back down to earth. Guys my age- young age at that!!!- just don’t have major problems like what Google taunted me into believing. Plus I’m not a smoker. Nor a drinker. More than likely it is the a fore mentioned kidney stone. I started to think about that poor fellow down below that was to play the conduit for a stone to escape my body. Stories of others that have been down that road- people that I know- that said that it was one of the most excruciating things they had gone through. I repeat- I was not looking forward to the experience.

Now it was time to get some simple procedures done. The CT scan would be no big deal, but the scope?! That doesn't sound too good. The doctor was straight up about it. It would be uncomfortable and would only last about ten minutes. They would put a numbing solution in there, but still…

I don’t think I got too grumpy the day before, perhaps a little pre-scope anxiety, but not grumpy. Ask Jennifer, she may be a little more honest than me. I tend to think more highly of myself than I ought. It’s part of the curse that makes me point at someone else other than myself. Still, the idea of anything going into my body through that particular pathway was not appealing.

Gratefully, my doctor is a man. I didn't have to worry about that whole modesty thing. I would have been a bit embarrassed anticipating the thought of a lady poking around down there. Hey, I’m modest. Sue me. I've spent my entire life keeping my private parts private. I've always disliked locker rooms, though I've used them and will probably do so again in the future. But it’s a men’s locker room. Admittedly, I had teenage fantasies about that otherly locker room, but it never included me being the one on display. So I had that comfort of keeping it all just between us men.

I showed up for my appointment and a nurse leads me back to the scope room. “I need you to undress and put this gown on. I’ll be back in a few moments to prep you.” So much for just between us men. Sickness has a way of robbing us first of our dignity.

After the iodine bath and sterilization of the said area, I was left alone for a few minutes to let the numbing stuff do its thing. I am so stoked for iPhones. It is a great time killer and distraction. I played Harbor Master for a few minutes. I am trying to beat my high score or 435. I would love to surmount that lofty height of 500. I have always been a high achiever.

The doc came in and said his hellos and we shook hands, and then he donned his rubber gloves and picked up the scope. May I just say here that if that whole area had a numbing solution somewhere, I must have missed it.

Off to my left was the screen that displayed the progress of the camera. The urethra tube is kind of fascinating. I suddenly felt like I was on a tour bus… “on your right you’ll notice your prostrate. Oh, look up a head, there is your sphincter muscle…”

Once the scope went past that last muscle it came into my bladder. Funny how so many thoughts can run through your mind in an instant. It takes so much more time to put it all into words than to have the actual flash. Google images came back to me. That didn't look right. I had already said it to myself right before the doctor said it. “You have cancer.” He was very matter of fact. Calm. Easy talk of a pro. That wasn't how my flash had said it. My flash had said it with fear. My flash said it with a punch to the gut. My flash was not a pro. My flash was a child that wanted to hide from the boogie man.

There is a band that is pretty popular right now called Fun. They performed one of my favorite songs at the Grammy’s the other night called Carry On. Odd how so many things can rattle around in your head in times like this. That song popped in. Not the whole of it. Just the line, If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone, Carry on. I didn’t start singing it or humming it. It was a flash. It was gone. But it had visited me nonetheless.

The first time I heard that song it reminded me of Elizabeth Elliot. I love her. Her husband was Jim Elliot. I think his most famous quote is, He is no fool who gives up that which he cannot keep in order to gain that which he cannot lose. He had been murdered by the primitive tribe that he was trying to reach for the gospel. When Elizabeth got word that Jim was dead, it was a crushing blow. She had small children to raise and she was in a primitive land. And she didn’t know how she was going to survive a lifetime without her Love. I heard her talk about this dark moment of time and she said a line that Jennifer and I have referred to many times in our life together. Elizabeth said, “I can’t take on the burden of that long road of raising children and living without Jim. All I could do was very simple- do the next thing.” Simple wisdom for a time of fear and anxiety. Do the next thing. That’s what Fun. was talking about. Carry on. Do the next thing.

I talked to one of my favorite people in all the world yesterday, Matt Hannan, my pastor. He reminded me what Jesus said, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Do the next thing. Don’t try to swallow all the what if’s today. Just rest in doing the next thing.

That was yesterday. Between 11 and 12:30. February 11, 2013. Today is my CT scan. Friday is my surgery. I have a tumor the size of an orange in my bladder. It’s a game changer. I have a lot of worries and fears that want to play their taunting games in my little soul. I will, nonetheless, just focus on the next thing.

Perhaps your next thing could be a prayer for me and my family. I would be ever so grateful.