At the hospital, when the emergency medical technician (EMT) eases me into a lying position on the gurney, I curl up, clenching like a possum around the spiked ball of pain in my right flank. "You need to breathe," says the EMT. Cathy says, "He had kidney stones once. Could that be the problem?" Breathe in through the nose, I think. Now out through the mouth. Or is it the other way? My hazy memories of Lamaze are no help. The EMT looms back into view. "We called urology. They said Dr. Mercer is available."
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