First, a twinge, and then it grips, As though the body feels eclipse; For when a stone obstructs its path, It stirs the depths, the body’s wrath.
While on one side, the sharp pain starts, It spreads its reach, breaks through in darts; At first the back, then lower down, Its waves of ache can make one drown.
Yet soon enough, it shifts again, To groin or lower abdomen. Meanwhile, sweat beads upon the brow, And nausea whispers, “Now or now.”
Furthermore, there's no relief, For pain continues, raw and brief; Even worse, the blood may show, Confirming what one fears to know.
Thus, as the ureter fights its way, Around the stone, where stones may stay, Until it moves, or meds relieve, Or somehow else the pain reprieves.
However sharp, it does abate, In some cases, or else awaits The skill of hands, in sterile light, To cut the stone and end the fight.
So, though it hurts, this too will cease, As treatment helps the pain release; Then finally, the body’s calm Will follow this, the kidney’s psalm.
