One of my all-time favorite Chevroids from the Geez, whom I fondly refer to as Billy Boy Parten, suffered all night long one night with excrutiating back pain.  By the time he finally managed to get the Hungarian doctor to come see him in the morning he couldn’t even get out of bed.  The doctor said he had a kidney stone that he was about to pass and told him to drink gallons and gallons of tea to try to flush it out.  The doctor also said he also had a bunch more stones in there that were not ready to come out.

For those of us who have never had the pleasure of passing a kidney stone a kidney stone is like a small rock that forms in your kidney and then passes into your bladder and then out through what my son Greg used to call your “weaner roast.”  The doctor told my friend that when it started to come out it would feel about like it does when a woman is having a baby, except with sharp, jagged edges.  I once heard a female comedienne explain what child birth felt like to women.  She said, “It’s like this, guys.  Just take your upper lip and pull it back over the top of your head, and that’s what it feels like.”

As we were leaving the camp hospital where we had been visiting Billy Boy one of our group asked him if he would like for us to bring him a load of work from the office.  Being the gentleman that he was, he graciously declined.

Most people would have been looking to have this opportunity classified as a “million dollar wound,” which would get them sent home early.  However, in those days around the Geez, you didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to send you home or consider you deficient in any way.  Amazingly enough, these jobs were highly sought after and hard to come by.  I guess it was the money.  It sure wasn’t the atmosphere.

On our second visit to the hospital, Billy Boy was still suffering and it had been two days now.  He told us the doctor had explained to him that in the States the drug addicts come into the emergency rooms and fake having kidney stones.  When they give a urine sample, they prick their finger and drip some bood into the sample so it looks like they have them.  Then they get the super high-powered pain relieving drugs they used for kidney stones.  It is that bad.

Of course, Bill refused to tell his wife back in the States about his condition.  She had no idea anything was wrong with him.  “I don’t want her to worry,” he said.  “Just pray for me, Steve.”  I said, “Of course I will, Bill, but don’t you realize you are taking away your wife’s opportunity to pray for you by not telling her?”  He understood, but he still did not want her told.  I thought he was missing out on a tremendous opportunity to garner sympathy for himself.

On the third day there was still no real progress.  Billy Boy was looking pitiful.  That morning they had given him an overdose of the pain medication and his blood pressure fell through the floor.  He said he thought his head was going to burst and his eyes were going to pop out and he was going to faint.  No, he was going to throw up first and then faint.

I told him he better start thinking about getting out of the Geez, at least to a major city – Helsinki or London or Frankfurt… Moscow even.  He said he was thinking about it, but he was afraid of losing his job.  Now, is that dumb or what?  It’s actually quite sad, if you think about it.  Here was a man who was suffering through all the usual B.S. that the rest of us go through to work in the Geez, just so he could get that physical hardship and foreign service premium in his pay.  Now he was willing to put his body and his life at risk to protect his job.  My, what a man will do for his family.

At this point, his wife still did not know about Bill’s condition.  I’m sure she would not have appreciated his heroism if she knew.  I know Bill’s wife and his daughter and I’m sure they would much rather have their husband and daddy than the money if they knew what he had to go through to get it.

The next day he was still in there, still squeezing and still crying.  Some particles came out that day, so we thought we might be getting close.  A pool started in the office as to when Bill would deliver the baby.

That reminds me of an old Red Foxx joke.  When he was a little boy, his pregnant mother asked him, “Red, when the baby is born, would you rather have a little brother or a little sister?”  Red said, “Well, Mama, if it wouldn’t push you out of shape too much, I’d rather have a pony.”

That day they pumped dye into Bill to find the stone.  The doctor said he had one about the size of a pea.  Upon hearing this, one of my friends said, “Well, I hope he has a big enough pea shooter.”  Or maybe he said, “pee shooter.”  I’m not sure.

We were all having quite a good time with this while poor Bill lay over there in the Hungarian hospital listening to his Walkman and reading Hungarian magazines and crying.  Poor little feller.  Of course, he had a constant stream of friends coming in and going out all day and night.  When we walked out of his room we all agreed that we were glad it was not us in there.  The most commonly heard comment was, “Boy, that makes me hurt just to think about it.”

Finally, on the fifth day, which was a Friday, Willie’s willie finally had the baby at about 10:30 in the morning – a tiny little thing about a third the size of a BB.  Very disappointing for us onlookers.  We were all expecting a cats-eye marble. 

After five days in the hospital, and after surviving this debacle, Billy Boy Parten was glad to be getting back to work.  Nevermind that he was facing a mountain of accumulated paperwork.  His pea shooter had turned out to be big enough and he had managed to save his job.  What else matters?

I think at that point he may have told his wife about what a good time he had that week.  I’m not sure.

Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  Brett Gibson, an Aussie, won the pool – $30.00.