I Come from Soil, Grit, and River

NOTE: I originally journaled this longhand on Sept. 2, 2026, a week out of ICU and a day after my second kidney surgery.

Yesterday, part of the infected kidney stone was removed and a new stent placed. I am placed in charge of removing the stent on my own on Sunday. I already feel better with my kidney now flowing, much like steam released in a tea kettle. Still, my kidney inflamed, throbs, telling me she suffers. I’ve new annoyances with the stent jabbing when I cough, sneeze, or shift positions.

Yesterday, after surgery, the man told me he might still be in love with his ex. When a man tells you he loves another. Believe him. Here, my heart empties along with my kidney.

Yesterday, I wanted only to cry, thinking of the potential system-wide organ damage that my sepsis suffering has caused. I do not. Cry, that is. Perhaps I can’t choose an organ to mourn right now. Perhaps the organ I choose will turn out fine. I want to cry over heart damage, over one more man unable to offer me a safe place in which to land. Still, no tears.

Perhaps I hold too much gratitude for tears. Yesterday, my pain management surgeon, Dr. L., the man who has repeatedly repaired nerve endings twisting around my damaged and arthritic spine, arrived at the OR as my anesthesiologist…

…(continued at Write2Heal on Substack)