Sven, Part 2
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGyxR1atoNTv1-n2y4ljt3jIpIugTsiP6NI9jQRrZmddlP1OWjmQD_UjfDoaSYZAQX5KUhqe2i8I75o_jF5r-c1E-RXIhALGTLhCIZ-cm1AsIG1VhITBuCjL3gHoFkZaLIYpmmCEUBhMf/s320/52401195_10156365655618370_4856210274799058944_n.jpg)
At the end of November I wrote about my bout with a kidney stone , whom I affectionately named Sven. My kidney birthed Sven about two weeks before my daughter and I were scheduled to leave for our Christmas trip to Orlando. At the emergency room, I was told that Sven would probably pass in the next few days. I was given a plastic insert for the toilet and a strainer. You have not lived until you've strained your own pee, let me just tell you. Sven did not pass within the next few days. I called the urologist to whom I had been referred. She gave me a prescription for a medication that was supposed to "relax my ureter." It just figures that I'd have an uptight ureter. The pharmacist indicated that Tamulosin is typically prescribed to men. I quickly realized that the odds weren't in my favor. Sure enough, nothing happened. I went to Disney as planned. On the long drive to the airport that morning, I felt quite a bit of discomfort and thought, "Ohhhh, maybe