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You are a manly man. You’re sitting at home minding your own business. Perhaps you’re sitting on your leather sofa or your cat (not made of leather) if you’re not paying attention. You’re drinking a case of beer or a case of whisky. (YIKES) You’re a powerful man and you rule.

You’re the male of the species! You’re tough as steel with the disposition of a block of wood. (I should win an award for that description) Most of the time you don’t even need words, you simply grunt. You rule the world, or at least you rule the sofa when the cat’s not on it.

You look just like the Pillsbury dough-boy but you feel like Arnold in his prime. You imagine a six-pack of muscles on your rock hard stomach, and who know it might just be there under all that fat. If someone dropped an anvil on your head you would shrug it off and laugh because testosterone flows through you.

Yo Samity Sam is your hero.

It’s at about this time that your eyebrows go tight as you sense something is not quite right; something is unsound. A twinge in your left side and you stand to shake it off, but then a sharp pain in your lower back. It’s then when your eyebrows raise and disappear up into your hairline.

The wife comes in and sees the look on the big he-man and says, “What’s wrong? Where are your eyebrows?” An emotional response is forthcoming. You do WANT to be a man but your lips start to quiver as your hands shake. You struggle and finally manage to say, “Morphine!”

Your bravado says to you in plain English, “Adios amigos!”

The pain is increasing at an alarming rate and you know that you are passing a kidney stone. You also know that you won’t die but you wish you would. You’re not usually aware of the exact location of your left kidney, but you are now because the gods are kicking it. The pain in your back and side is unbearable. It’s like someone is sticking a knife into you and pulling it out, only to put it right back in there.

You think it must be a boulder instead of a stone.

The only words that you are prepared to say at this time, besides the curse words, “Grunt, emergency room!”

So out to the car you go but you discover that you can’t bend. You’re as stiff as a piece of wood and you are unable to get into the car. You pace around and around the car like some sort of pacing guy. The neighbors are concerned (they gather to observe the spectacle, some bring popcorn and portable chairs).

The next ten minutes is spent in an effort to get into the car, but you’re a board so it’s not easy. Finally, a neighbor that has experience with lumber breaks you in two and puts you into the car. Off to the emergency room you go, where the wife makes sure to hit every single pothole on the way.

At the hospital your woman sneaks off so she doesn’t have to see you cry. Because you are in excruciating pain you are first in line for treatment, right? Wrong! They’re used to seeing pain. I think they like it. The nurse from hell says, “You’re in pain dear, good for you. That’s how you know you’re alive. Take a number. The doctor will be with you when he feels like it.”

Good for me?

You sit and wait for treatment, right? Wrong again, don’t you remember that you have the characteristics of a piece of pine wood. You simply cannot sir. After everyone has had a good look at you and your suffering off you go for some morphine. Yeah morphine! But the pain suddenly departs and you feel great. So you stare at the needle and you decline it because the pain is gone. Also because you would cry like a colicky infant without the pain to distract you.

So you and the wife head home and you really feel good until you pull in the driveway and get out of the car. The pain returns because the stone is on the move again. Noooooooo! There is a god and he is laughing. So off to the emergency room you go, and if you are lucky a meteorite will hit you on the way.

(Please take a look at some of those commercials)