By Jonathan Miller, on Sun Mar 30, 2014 at 7:50 PM ET
By John Y. Brown III, on Sat Mar 29, 2014 at 3:18 PM ET NCAA tournament basketball is about as competitive as sports gets—and takes a full team effort. And when you get to the Sweet Sixteen round that team effort includes the fans. Especially if it is UK vs UL.
In fact, as much as last night’s historic game was a test of collegiate basketball skills at their highest level, it was also a test of fan participation behaviors at their highest (and potentially lowest) levels.
Sure the young collegiate superstars on the floor last night for UK and UL had to be at the top of their game—and were for both teams. But what isn’t as obvious to the unsuspecting eye is the crucial role the fans play in helping their team get those small but important advantages that can make the difference in a close tournament game.
Last night my son Johnny and I were amidst a sea of “mixed” basketball fans. Some were for UL and others were for UK at about an equal ratio. It was the perfect formula for a fight to breakout at any given time and I even whispered to my son before the game, “I hope I don’t get involved in a fist fight tonight….I tend to get hurt badly in those situations.” Johnny agreed and we vowed to be on good behavior for as long as we could.
The most active UL fan in our orbit was seated, of course, directly in front of me. He was clearly a UL fan because he was middle-aged and wearing a red shirt with a cardinal logo and kept making the “L” sign with his right hand (along with his wife, or UL co-fan) for pictures he asked others —sometimes UK fans—to take. I think the hand “L” sign is clever but kept wondering if it shouldn’t be limited to just one hand so it doesn’t get confused with a “J” hand sign. But couldn’t figure out if it should be the UL fan’s left or right hand (outward looking or looking toward).
I was an obvious UK fan. Middle-aged. Not thin but no longer heavy either and wearing blue jeans, a blue shirt and a blue blazer. He had a slight advantage over me because I did not have a wildcat logo on my lapel and, let’s be honest, there is no way to smoothly make the letter “K” hand sign with a single hand. I did come up with a way to make a lower case “k” using both hands but decided against attempting since it was my first time and it was something that would need practice before going live with.
The first half went smoothly. No indications of a fisticuffs breaking out on the floor between UL and UK players or in the stands between UL and UK fans.
Things started surprisingly subdued. In the first few minutes I mumbled, “Let’s go UK” where it could be heard by my son but no one else. I essentially whispered it in his ear. Johnny quickly chastised me my pointing out facetiously, “It sure is good for UK that there’s a man in the crowd of 41,000 fans who is whispering “Let’s go cats.”
I explained I was just trying to communicate with him and not the team, but he had made his point. Meanwhile, my UL nemesis was starting to cheer not just out of normal fan pleasure but to also make a point to the UK fans around him that he not only was “for” UL but was starting to believe they were going to win. He would say things like, “Pull away, Cards!” And the worst part was that they were. It was 18-5 and I had no choice but to up my fan game –before it was too late.
I shouted “THREE” and not long after that UK made an important 3 point shot. Thank goodness. UK was turning around the momentum—and –importantly– doing so in conjunction with their fans.
The Cardinal fan in front of me countered my “THREE!” by reciting numerous player names. He obviously knew his stuff. He also would show off that he knew the hand gesture for official calls trying to do the gesture himself before the officials (whenever the call would benefit UL). This was all good showmanship but my “Go Cats” coupled with another correct “THREE” closed the point difference to 3 at half. My point being at UK we are about winning. Not showing off.
During half time, like the players themselves, I needed a break and headed out to the concession stand before returning to position myself behind and “checking” my UL counterpart as we both prepared for an intense –and potentially historic—second half of play. Both teams came out strong but my UL fan was quieter than I expected at first. I tried to watch the game but couldn’t help staring into his bald spot and starting to really resent what he represented –and what was at stake for both of us.
And then it started, “He cheered louder for UL than any single play during the first half. My son and I retorted with an even louder yell besting our best first half shout out to UK by an even more significant margin. Hoping my UL fan was chastened, I soon found out he was instead embolden. I couldn’t make out what it was he was trying to chant at first. It sounded like he was saying “ewwww” and I even thought it was perhaps a foul on UL. But I soon discovered he was chanting “Luuuuukkkkkeeeee” and it just sounded like “ewwwww.” And, again to my dismay but growing respect, it was working! Within about a 3 minute stretch, Luke Skywalker (I’m guessing his last name…the fan in front of me seemed only to know Luke’s first name) made two three pointers and four free throws.
All I could think was, “Game on, pal!” And If it needed to get a little dirty on my end, I was willing to go there. I started with some major high-fives with my son with accompanying fist bumps and ecstatic “Yes! Cats!” A new shout I improvised in desperation that was obviously—and thankfully—working.
My UL counterpart went into overdrive high-fiving any UL fan within arm reach of him. I wasn’t willing to go there. Yet. And wasn’t sure what to do next to turn up the heat. I shouted my standard bearer “THREE” several times but the UL fans around me were on to me as obviously as the UL players –and no three pointers were made.
Somehow, I have to assume it was my son’s cheering because it wasn’t mine, UK pulled within 3 points. Which is when I knew we had moved to “No holds barred” fan tactics. UK was at the free throw line. I looked on knowingly –confident the free throw by Andrew Harrison was going in and I was shocked. Horrified actually. The UL fan below me was shaking his hands to put a hex on the UK free throw shooter. I had never seen this before and it was as creepy as you are imagining. And this guy looked was obviously no piker. He had cast spells before on free throw shooters and I was trying to pull myself out of shock and into some sort of counter-spell mode. I had never cast a counter spell and was momentarily frozen. All I could do was wait until UL went to the free throw line. I wanted to shake my hands menacingly while glowering at the UL shooter—but was afraid it wouldn’t come off as polished as my competitor fan. So instead I just concentrated really hard on the UL player to miss his free throws. I reminded myself from the first half that UK was more about substance over style in fan magical thinking trying to influence games. And it worked. Phew!! And worked again!
As the clock wound down to under 3 minutes, the UL fan’s free throw hexes became more pronounced and involved —and more desperate looking. And ineffectual. I grinned to myself and with 38 seconds to go went for the coup de grace when Aaron Harrison got the ball in the corner. “T-H-R-E-E” I erupted from out of nowhere. Nothing but net, baby! As uber-fan Dick Vitale likes to say.
The game was all but over. I did one last mental hex on the UL player who missed a key free throw needed to tie. It was over. We—the UK players and their magical fans—and pulled off a staggering come-from-behind defeat.
We UK fans congratulated each other –but not to gleefully. It was a close call and could have gone the other way —if we, the fans, hadn’t been on our A-game.
Feeling both grateful and magnanimous after the big win, I looked down on the court and watched the players congratulating each other. I figured that was the least I could do. I tapped my nemesis on the shoulder and offered to shake his hand which he took. And being every bit as much the gentleman said, “Good luck on Monday” as he walked off.
I looked at my son and said, “That was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Nice gesture.” And I thought to myself how glad I was I didn’t know how to put a counter spell on him after all to stop his spell on UK’s free throw shooters. Because he might have left with my spell still in tact. And on Monday night, if he was really serious about wishing UK luck, we could use his help.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Mar 26, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET (Photo by Jeff Gross/Getty Images)
I want to go out of this world like the Wichita St Shockers lost to the University of Kentucky Wildcats yesterday in the NCAA tournament.
I want my last shot to be potentially the one I’ll be remembered for –if it goes in.
And all I ask for is three seconds and one good look at the basket.
And I only want there to be 0.2 seconds left before I realize it’s… all over.
 And I want to feel grateful for the incredible run I was privileged to experience
And I want to leave the floor knowing I did everything I could have done during the time I was in the game
And that I exceeded all expectations–not out of good fortune– but because I played with the heart of a champion and never gave up
And that I played pursuing what I believed was my destiny
And I want my loss to be remembered somehow as Kentucky’s gain.
I only ask that I not be in St Louis when it happens.
And that where I am going is someplace much better than Indianapolis.
By Lauren Mayer, on Wed Mar 26, 2014 at 8:30 AM ET Most of us are familiar with the cliche of the Jewish mother, who urges everyone to eat, nags her adult kids who don’t call her, and who is the butt of dozens of jokes that make people groan instead of laugh. (Although I do love the one about the mom who gives her son two ties for his birthday, the son immediately puts one on, and the mom says “What, you didn’t like the other one?”)
Of course, I’ve always thought I was way too hip for that cliche, but as I find myself nagging my own sons about their eating habits (which are mostly terrible, and would it be so hard for them to eat something green besides green Skittles?), I can hear echoes of my mother and grandmother. Yes, I’m a Jewish mother – but that isn’t as inconsistent with liberal political views as one might imagine, particularly when it comes to gay rights.
For example, many reformed synagogues (including ours) have offered same-sex commitment ceremonies for years. And Jews are disproportionately represented in entertainment (just listen to “You Won’t Succeed On Broadway” from Spamalot), with a gay-friendly environment. Plus we’re far more likely to live in urban areas, or suburbs near large cities, which tend to lean more Democrat and thus more tolerant. (In fact, at the large suburban high school my kids attended, the biggest issue with their Gay Straight Alliance club was that it was mostly filled with straight teen girls who, thanks to Glee and Smash, wanted their own gay best friend.)
When my kids were young, I tried to impart this tolerance by making sure my boys spent time with my wonderful gay friends, and urging tolerance whenever I could. (My older son was about 11 when he asked me when I thought he’d be ready to start kissing girls. I responded, quite earnestly, “Your body will tell you when you’re ready, and it will also tell you whether you want to kiss girls or boys, because both are okay.” He rolled his eyes and said, “Geez, mom, give it a rest. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m straight.”)
At any rate, it makes perfect sense that a Jewish mother would not only welcome, but actually want, a gay son – because that way she’d never be replaced by another woman. (Cue rim shot.) But to my surprise, when I googled “Jewish Mothers For Marriage Equality,” there were no exact matches. So clearly, a song was waiting to be born (and now, if you google that phrase, this one will come up!)
http://kck.st/1pPyqT2
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Mar 25, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET Third party politics and the sexes
Every few years public disgust with the two major political parties bubbles over to the point there is talk of a need to develop a third party.
As soon as the possibility of such a new entity starts to seem real both major parties tend to start behaving more responsibly and cooperatively.
The threat of a third party, in other words, seems to serve as a corrective on the behavior on the two major parties.
Which made me wonder if the same dynamic would occur between men and women –and they would get along better–if every few years there was talk of the threat of creating of a third sex.
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Love grades
I can tell how I am doing with my wife by the way she ends her texts to me. When I am doing well Rebecca ends each text with a complete “Love.” When I am doing well but could use improvement I get the abbreviated “L.” When I am on the bubble I get a lower case “l.” And when I am really struggling and moved into negative territory I simply get her first initial “R.”
R’s are bad and can sometimes–if not remedied immediately–devolve into no close at all. That is very, very bad. A failing grade.
Today I am getting capital L’s
But trying to move up by this afternoon to a full-fledged “Love.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Mar 20, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
Time to mix it up
Last night went to Disney with family for couple hours and rode Pirates of the Caribbean –again.
And, again, for the 47th consecutive year the three jailed pirates were unsuccessful at coaxing the keys from the dog a few feet away.
Just once I would like to see an empty jail cell with the door swung open and the dog chewing on the bone that tempted him, finally, to part with the keys.
By RP Nation, on Fri Mar 7, 2014 at 10:00 AM ET Editor’s Note: Last summer, 13 year old Ethan Kadish was struck by lightning at Goldman Union Camp Institute in Zionsville, IN — the camp at which my wife and I met, as well as where my parents met. Here’s the story of the horrible event. Ethan’s camp buddies, Nathan and Asher Moskowitz are celebrating their Bar Mitzvah this weekend by making a tribute to their friend and raising money for his health care. Here are their stories:
 Nathan Moskowitz:
Sometimes in life we don’t stop and think about what we are thankful for. With the sacrifice of well being our ancestors were forced to take a moment, appreciate their blessings and give thanks.
In my Torah portion, the Israelites made a special offering called the sacrifice of well being. They slaughtered the animal, and then splashed the blood of the animal all over the walls of the altar. The kidney and the liver were then turned into smoke in front of the altar. Not the most pleasant – laws about sacrifice and blood. But for me, all this blood and smoke, is teaching us about how we give thanks.
For our ancestors, the forced sacrifice of well being made them appreciate the blessings they had. It was a way to stop and think about what was really happening and what they needed to be thankful for. Today, fortunately, we don’t make sacrifices. Instead, we have our prayers – and they are here to remind us of what is good in our lives. But also, what we can do more of. Just like the sacrifices, they help us think of what needs to be done in our world, like who might need our help.
For me, this entire bar mitzvah has made that happen. When I first thought of what my bar mitzvah meant to me, there were a few ideas that immediately popped into my head. Being a Jew, the importance of our Jewish tradition and that being up here tonight is part of our history. But there was one idea that had me thinking for a long time; that we have to work at making the world a better place and helping others. That’s the value that we have always learned as most important in being Jewish. And after what we experienced last summer, I knew we could live this Jewish principle for our b’nai mitzvah.
===
 Asher Moskowitz:
My Torah portion talks about the sin offering, a sacrifice that had to be made when someone did something wrong. It says that if one person in the community commits a sin, the entire community is responsible and has to make a sacrifice. The sacrifice made was a bull and if they didn’t have a bull, the community used a goat. Our ancestors brought the bull before G-d and then slaughtered it in the Tent of Meeting. Then they burned the animal’s blood in the fire.
When I first read this, I found how they dealt with sins in ancient times really weird and gruesome. Besides, how does sacrificing a bull and sprinkling bull blood fix our mistakes?
I imagine that the Israelites were concerned about giving up something as valuable as a bull, so maybe that would stop them from committing a sin. That fear would make them behave better. Though in my mind, linking this to G-d, doesn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t think G-d cared about someone’s sacrificed animal that was killed to make up for a mistake made. I believe that all G-d wants us to do, is that which is good and that we should work on fixing our world.
Yet what would happen if we could fix our mistakes and take back the wrong we did in such a simple and practical way? When I was at a temple retreat, one of the counselors asked “have you ever squeezed toothpaste out of a tube and tried to put it back in?” Well the thing is, it’s impossible. Once we do something bad – once we hurt someone, once we call someone a name, we can’t take it back. Now some people might think you can always just say, “I’m sorry.” But for me that doesn’t cut it.
Words aren’t enough. Even though as Hannah Montana taught, “Nobody’s Perfect,” and “Everyone makes mistakes,” our actions need to show that we care enough to work at the wrong we did, that we can redeem ourselves and do something kind to help and to make things right.
This got me thinking. There are moments when mistakes are made and we wish we could go back in time and fix them. But that’s really true with everything we experience, everything we might want different. Think about all the things we would change! I wish we were able to do this because then I’d get my friend Ethan out of the way so that lightning wouldn’t strike him.
Of course, that’s not possible. But I wish it were. I guess the lesson is that when things happen, even bad things, we can’t change them. But we can work to make things better. And that actually is connected to my Torah portion.
Like I said before, the whole community is responsible for the sin that one person committed. Yet, why is the entire community connected to what went wrong when only one person had sinned. I think that is the most important lesson here, that community means everyone is responsible. When things are good, everyone can experience the good. When things aren’t good, everyone can try to make things better.
Today we are part of Ethan Kadish’s community. To help Ethan, Nathan and I are doing a 5k fun run walk so that we can raise money for Ethan’s medical care.
 Ethan Becoming a bar mitzvah means I have the chance to be more of a leader – for my temple community leading us in prayer and also celebrating a tradition that has been passed along to me. The most meaningful part of this is connecting with my temple, my family and my friends and bringing everyone together. And that tomorrow we will be a community that works together to help our friend Ethan.
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Nathan Moskowitz:
Our friendship with Ethan is ever lasting. We played Ultimate Frisbee together and we even had our own handshake after one of us scored. I hope and pray that one day we will be able to do our handshake again. The day he was struck by lightning, all of us at camp broke into tears. That night a new tradition began as we sang the prayer of healing, the Misheberach, together as a community. We continued doing this every day for the rest of the session, dedicating it to Ethan. It gave us time to think about how we wanted to help him. On the day we left camp, on the car ride home, I said, “we have to do something for Ethan.”
We’re blessed to be able to share Ethan’s story and ask everyone to make a difference in his life. It makes us feel good to know that our b’nai mitzvah is helping. And on some level, not only helping Ethan, but also reminding us how much helping there is to do in our community and in our world.
By Jonathan Miller, on Tue Mar 4, 2014 at 7:00 PM ET This afternoon, The Daily Beast ran an edited version of the following piece on its home page. Here’s the unedited version, with plenty of Kentucky political color.
I used to be Jack Conway.
Well, to be more precise, Kentucky’s incumbent Attorney General and I used to occupy the same crowded political space: two young, big-city, over-educated, well-connected, center-left, aspiring pols, each trying to elbow out the other for the chance to grasp the political brass ring that was the opportunity to be anointed the next great hope for Bluegrass State Democrats.
Our journeys finally came into direct conflict when, in 2007, all of our political mentors withdrew their names from the gubernatorial hat, compelling Jack and I to engage in a hyper-awkward, Elaine Benes-ian dance to explore teaming up as a ticket…which ended, of course, when both of us insisted on leading. I ultimately plunged into the seven-person governor-wannabe scrum from which I never emerged, while Conway found open daylight running and easily winning the state’s top law enforcement position.
In the intervening years, as I have found a permanent seat on the sidelines as a recovering politician, I’ve watched Jack’s career with consistently wistful cognizance that “but for the grace of God go I.” During his 2010 bid for the U.S. Senate — a race that had our paths been reversed, I undoubtedly would have run…and lost — I saw Jack pilloried in much the same way I had been skewered for my own policy-wonkish, retail-politics-averse approach to campaigning. And when his ultimate undoing came at his own hands — the ill-advised decision to run the now infamous “Aqua Buddha” ad that challenged Rand Paul’s faith, I could see myself succumbing to the same pressures, within the oxygen- and rationality-deprived political bubble, to employ a desperate, risky strategy in order to stop an “dangerous” opponent with a diametrically-opposite ideological worldview.
When Conway later admitted his mistake — arguing that the ad was “the only time in my political career I’ve gone against my gut,” I recalled my greatest gut-check regret. In the 2007 race for Governor, I was questioned by a newspaper’s editorial board about how I voted in the 2004 statewide referendum over what I felt was a pernicious constitutional amendment that would not only ban gay marriage, but anything that looked like it, such as civil unions. Privately, I’d supported marriage equality — strongly — ever since Andrew Sullivan introduced much of the country to the possibility in his historic 1989 essay in The New Republic. But while I had openly supported anti-discrimination laws, and was especially proud to have been the first gubernatorial candidate ever to pursue, secure and embrace the endorsement of gay rights organizations, marriage equality was a third rail that I was still too timid to touch — the amendment, after all, had passed statewide overwhelmingly just three years earlier, with 74% support.
So I did what I had done my entire political career on the issue: I lied to the editorial board. And I didn’t come out of the political closet until I had formally renounced politics a few years later.
Today, my former political doppelgänger faced a similar challenge on this very same issue. When federal District Judge John Hayburn’s recently ruled that the Commonwealth must recognize lawful same-sex marriages from other states, Conway was confronted with the decision on whether to appeal the decision — on behalf of the voters who had so overwhelmingly voted for the ban a decade ago.
For some of Conway’s Attorney General colleagues in blue states who encountered similar circumstances, this may have not been a difficult decision. But here, in an inner notch of the Bible Belt, marriage equality is still quite an unpopular position. A few brave Democrats had stepped out months earlier — including, most prominently, Lieutenant Governor Jerry Abramson, and State Auditor Adam Edelen — but general election voters, who Conway will likely appeal to in a 2015 gubernatorial run, still oppose the practice by a 55 to 35 percent margin in a recent independent poll. (And today, a GOP candidate who had donated. $20,000 to support the constitutional anti-gay effort in 2004 just announced his entry into the 2015 governor’s race as the standard bearer for social conservatives.)
Worse yet for Conway, his client, the popular Democratic Governor Steve Beshear — who won statewide liberal plaudits for vetoing an Arizona-like anti-gay, “religious freedom” bill in 2013, and national progressive celebration for successfully implementing Obamacare in the state — wanted to pursue the appeal.
So Conway chose the route he had abandoned in his U.S. Senate race: He went with his gut. In announcing his decision to refuse to pursue an appeal, the Attorney General stated that “in the end, this issue is really larger than any single person and it’s about placing people above politics…I can only say that I am doing what I think is right…I had to make a decision that I could be proud of – for me now, and my daughters’ judgment in the future.”
Conway’s decision will not have a significant practical effect: Governor Beshear announced a few minutes after Conway’s press conference that he would hire outside counsel to pursue the appeal. But for a populace desperately seeking politicians who are authentic, who lead from their heart, even at great political risk, Conway’s choice may instill a small ray of hope that even in this most cynical of times, conviction can sometimes trump politics.
And for this recovering politician, who has forsaken the arena for many of the same reasons that so many Americans hate politics — as well as for the chance, finally, to live a life when I can always be true to my most passionate beliefs — it’s great comfort to see my former political frenemy take the kind of brave, selfless action that I would have loved to put on my political resume.
By Jonathan Miller, on Tue Mar 4, 2014 at 6:16 PM ET As I wrote today in this The Daily Beast cover piece, Kentucky Attorney General Jack Conway took a very courageous stance today by refusing to appeal federal District Judge John Heyburn’s decision that requires Kentucky to recognize same-sex marriages from other states. Here’s an excerpt:
For a populace desperately seeking politicians who are authentic—who lead from their heart, even at great political risk—Conway’s choice may instill a small ray of hope that even in this most cynical of times, conviction can sometimes trump politics.
And for this recovering politician, who has forsaken the arena for many of the same reasons that so many Americans hate politics—as well as for the chance, finally, to live a life when I can always be true to my most passionate beliefs—it’s great comfort to see my former political frenemy take the kind of brave, selfless action that I would have loved to put on my leadership resume.
Click here to read the full piece.
Do you, like me, agree with Conway’s decision?
If so, please join me in saying thanks. Sign the petition below to let Attorney General Jack Conway know that you are with him as he stands for equality and fairness:
Thank You, Attorney General Conway for Supporting Marriage Equality
Read the petition
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By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Feb 27, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET  Our family is comprised of my wife, Rebecca, our son, Johnny, our daughter, Maggie, and our two dogs, Macy and Winston.
But on Monday we had–not what I would call an actual addition to the family–but a temporary intruder that has introduced himself (or herself) into our extended family. After several hours of agonizing pain in my lower back a CAT scan confirmed I had given birth to a small calcium deposit more commonly known as a kidney stone.
The process of birthing a kidney stone is cruelly painful. It feels like a tiny army has invaded your body and is attacking your lower back with miniature jackhammers.
I have been told repeatedly that a kidney stone is the most painful condition a man can experience—“like childbirth.” OK then. I’ll treat that way. I’m going to give my calcium deposit (or kidney stone) a proper name while it is residing swimmingly in my bladder waiting to burst out into the universe.
Buster has a nice ring to it. And I think I’m calling it a he.
For real childbirth the gestation period lasts about 38 weeks –or 266 days, on average. But for a male to create and discharge a fully grown calcium deposit is much a much shorter gestation period—about 3 or 4 days. Tops.
A dog’s gestation period is 61 days. A cow’s 279 days. The only thing on the shorter end of the spectrum even close to a man’s incubation period for a calcium deposit is a fly. Flies have gestation periods of about 4 days. But it’s not really gestation because they lay eggs. But they get it all done in 4 days and the only thing close to what I’m doing now with my kidney stone. I looked it up on the internet.
So, back to Buster. Our newest family member, sort of. I’ll be giving birth to him shortly. I’m in Day Three of my gestation period. The doctor expects Buster to be birthed (or “passed”) tomorrow, provided I drink lots of water and take Flomax. The male/kidney stone equivalent of Lamaze.
How did I find out I was “with stone?”
It all started late Monday afternoon. Day One was just awful. I didn’t think I had done anything deserving punishment….but the nurse–trained to read the body language of patients– knew immediately something was wrong with me when she walked into my hospital room and I was screaming at the top of my lungs “Oh God. Ohhhhh God!!! Oh God! OH GOD!!! Please help! OH GOD!” She asked me to point to the pain and I pointed to my lower right back.
My wife was shushing me and I waved my finger angrily at her and said, “No! No! Don’t shush me! Screaming it the only thing that helps distract me from the pain!”
Admittedly, it was not my finest moment as a husband. Or hospital patient. And I later apologized to both Rebecca and the hospital staff.
As wimpy as I felt for making all that noise, I was grateful the nurse knew exactly what to do. She administered a pain medication that sedated me and then took me in for a CAT scan. A CAT scan sounds like it could be fun. Something with a small furry house pet like our dogs, Macy and Winston. But it’s not. At all. It’s really boring. They put you on an oscillating bed and slide you back and forth through this giant contraption that takes pictures of your insides. That’s it. There are no cats anywhere. I guess the main take away about my reflections on the CAT scan is that the pain medication was working well.
About 30 minutes later a doctor came into my room and told me that I was about to be a proud father of a small calcium deposit. (Those weren’t his exact words, but you get the idea.)
I asked how big was my creation. The doctor said 2mm. “Smaller than average” and it should drop into the bladder soon “because it’s so small.”
I felt slightly self-conscious and think the doctor was embarrassed for me not being able to create a bigger kidney stone.
Feeling relief from the pain medication I felt more like myself and asked the nurse if she’d seen any other men with kidney stones this week. She said she had several kidney stone patients recently. After a pause, I asked, “How big was my kidney stone compared to the others?” I blushed while awaiting my answer and explained, “It’s a guy thing.” The nurse said, my stone was “big enough to cause a lot of pain” but wouldn’t offer a comparative opinion. I took it that my kidney stone fell on the small side. Maybe the smallest. The “runt” of all the stones seen recently in this hospital.
I was discharged with medicine, directions to drink lots of water and given a paper sifter to capture Buster when he was ready to meet the world. I returned Tuesday with no stone. The doctor wasn’t surprised and said it sometimes takes “several days to pass.” That’s all well and fine but I could tell he felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough and should really try to put my heart into it more. I was a little depressed—disappointed in myself, I guess, for not delivering.
Then again I am 50 years old. Birthing a calcium deposit at my age isn’t as easy as it sounds.
I am proud but hope this doesn’t affect my diet. Because in a way I am eating for two now.
As the nurse checked me out for the last time, she said to me routinely “I hope you feel better.” I said, I “didn’t feel that.” And added, “I don’t think your heart was in it.” She laughed and tried again and I said, “Better…but ….no…not really.” The third time was a charm and I left with us both laughing….kind of cool way to end an awful experience.
And soon–maybe tonight—Buster will pass. Pass into this universe –ever so briefly—and then get flushed into oblivion. OK. I know. Buster is just a calcium deposit. But he is my calcium deposit. And as painful and miserable as a kidney stone is to experience, it is possible—if you try really hard like I am doing now—to find something positive in even the most miserable experiences. A silver lining, if you will—that is un-phased by the jagged edges of my little runt of a kidney stone that is about to be introduced, albeit briefly, to this amazing but sometimes very painful world.
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