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A few weeks ago, I went to the pool, as per usual, and when I finished my workout, I went to the bathroom and my pee looked rather a lot like a fine rose wine. Coupled with the incredible and increased pain I was experiencing from my arthritis, I decided to make an appointment with my GP.

She ran some tests, and there was indeed a bit of blood in my urine. Less than ideal. So we did some tests on the old kidney function, which came back alright. Though, while we were waiting for tests, I developed what can only be described as the most irritating bladder infection ever. I had to pee constantly, waking up several times each night to pee out what seemed a ridiculous amount of fluid and in no way related to my intake of water, even though I was drinking a lot. I took some antibiotics and the GP assured me that soon all would be well.

Funnily enough, and for those of you who are used to my physical ailments, all was not well.

I can cope with a lot of physical pain, discomfort, and annoyance. But this pushed me over the edge. It hurt, it hurt in my belly when I peed, and the antibiotics were doing nothing. More tests. This time no blood in the urine. Hurrah! But pain still. So much pain. And during this time, the GP, the Mayo Clinic’s website and I were considering bladder stones or maybe even kidney stones.

But, with a swollen and extremely tender belly, and Crohn’s disease, my GP thought perhaps it might be worth talking to my specialist. Coincidentally, I had an appointment the following week.

He was grumpy because he didn’t have enough information to make a reasonable assessment of my guts. Due to the previous year’s thwarted colonoscopy due to… kidney stones. Yes, instead of having a scope, I passed some kidney stones. Such fun!

Anyhow, whilst all this was happening, The Mom was swanning about New Zealand, and we were doing a fun chain email between her, my siblings, their partners, and myself. Three time zones, multiple devices, and inconsistent WiFi for The Mom. We were in so many ways, in our proper milieu.

I updated L’il Sis, Crazy D and the rest on a daily basis. It was like the weather report, only medical. Diagnoses abounded, were quickly retracted, sympathy sent from afar. The Mom, however, and very much unlike her, was dead quiet. We figured she couldn’t access her emails but continued to hit reply all regardless, as you do. So she caught up to the rest of us in transit – somewhere in an airport lounge with free WiFi.

Upon her return, and since in fact, for Items of Great Importance and Interest, we’ve done the group email. So Crazy D and L’il Sis aren’t getting my medical updates via The Mom, as they would do normally.

Which is how Jeff came to be in a band. Jeff, as The Mom rightly points out, is the name L’il Sis came up with for my Crohn’s disease. When it’s ‘active’ it sings – that sounds crazy to say, but honestly that’s what it sounds like. Like a sad whale at the bottom of the ocean, singing the blues. L’il Sis pictures him like the whale on The Simpsons. His name is Jeff because he is A Jerk. Jeff the Jerkface Whale would be his full name.

So when the radiologist told me that there were stones in my kidney, little 3mm chaps, Crazy D hilariously decided that it was time to get a band together: “Jeff and the Kidney Stones”. I have declared that they are a deep funk band.

I’m thinking I might get t-shirts made up. Part of me wants to really take it way too far, make a Facebook page for the band, a Twitter profile, a website even. There is a lot of untapped pun-based potential for Crohn’s disease and I think it’s high time we take advantage of that. So if you see “Jeff and the Kidney Stones” playing at your local bar or pub, come along! It’ll just be me Tweeting in a corner, nursing a beer, making up some ridiculous excuse as to why the band’s not turned up.