unto day

I call my mother because I don’t know the difference between a urinary tract infection and kidney stones. I am 32 years old.

The last time I had a UTI was 12 years ago.

I ignored the pain for five days, but it became unbearable, and I ended up in the emergency room. How embarrassing!

My mother doesn’t answer, but calls me back right away.

Sorry, she says.

I was in the bathroom, she says.

How funny, I think. I am currently in the bathroom, wincing as I urinate.

So you’re up, I say. I didn’t wake you up, then.

This I speak through clenched teeth. I try to breathe.

No, she says. I was up.

How long have you been up for? I say.

Since 3 a.m., she says.

Jesus, I say.

Well, she says.

Listen, I say. I think I have a UTI. It hurts like hell when I pee, and my pee is bloody. I also have stomach cramps, like I’m on my period, or something.

Okay, she says.

It happened all of a sudden! I say. Three hours ago, I was just fine!

They do tend to come on like that, she says.

I’m not used to this type of pain, I say. I don’t know whether it’s a UTI or kidney stones.

It’s a UTI, she says. Women don’t get kidney stones.

Oh, yeah? I say. What do you mean, women don’t get kidney stones.

They just don’t, she says. Only men get kidney stones.

And why’s that, I say.

It’s punishment, she says.

Punishment, I say.

Yes, she says. Punishment. Kidney stones are God’s way of making known to men the pain of childbirth.

I see, I say.

Somehow, I am soothed.

What she says is correct—fundamentally, irrevocably correct.

Take your antibiotics, she says. You’ll be fine tomorrow.

Yes, I say.

I love you, she says.

Thank you, I say.

I love you, too, I say.