I’ve been ranting about this kidney stone for some time now and it finally met its demise a few days ago. Recovery is going along as expected. The first night after the surgery, I was wide awake at about 3 AM thinking of the story of the Princess & the Pea. Imagine that. I mean, I’ve been known to create some funny and unusual stories through my dreams, but this one wouldn’t let go of me.
As I sat awake for another hour, visions of that sweet little princess of the story haunted me. I thought of the mountain of mattresses and the adding of more and more of them to ease her from the difficulty she was having sleeping upon a pea that was buried far below all that bedding. In the end the story proves her to be a princess, because of her sensitivity. Certainly it would take someone of royal blood to be so aware of something foreign in the bed with her – and I’m not talking about the prince.
I pondered this for more than an hour. Eventually I talked myself into returning to sleep, but the thought lingered in my brain all day yesterday. I argued with myself as to whether I should write about it. Was it shameful of me to make light of something as serious as a kidney stone? Of course not. I write about almost everything that occurs in my life. Some of it turns out funny. Other times I can become morose or boring, but I decided that my little story bore some merit.
Actually my story turned into a poem.
She claimed to be of royal blood from some uncharted land,
But drenched with rain and chilled within she didn’t look so grand,
She came upon a palace like the one she left behind,
But this one seemed much different – it gave her peace of mind.
She knocked upon the massive door and waited for assistance,
A servant came and bade her in, admiring her persistence,
The prince was there to greet her, but never would he guess,
This poor drowned rat would marry him, she really was a mess.
Believing she might be a prize, the wife he longed to wed,
He set his servants to her aid and set her off to bed,
The queen, his mother, told her son, she had a simple test,
Which soon would help discover if she was a true princess.
A single pea would lie upon the bed made for her slumber,
The servants added featherbeds and pillows without number,
More mattresses were added too and even patchwork quilts,
The bed grew so much higher that to reach the top took stilts.
For days on end she stayed the course, her strength was running low,
She longed for just a single wink, a little nap would do,
When suddenly there came a shock which crushed the pesty pea,
Whatever made that pea explode would finally set her free.
And thus goes my story. I’m making a full recovery and soon will become the princess I was intended to be.