I’m on day five of trying to pass a 7mm kidney stone. So far, no good. Thankfully, my in-laws were staying with me on Saturday night when the pain came down out of the sky. They rushed me to the hospital, and I’ve been traveling in tiny, white subway cars of Percocet ever since.

Saturday was a night of firsts for me: first gurney, first IV, first narcotic. I understand why people can get hooked on these things. Aside from a few times when the dosage was too thin to cover the pain load, these pills are making the agony bearable and everything else somewhat pleasant, like a winding coastal drive at sunset. The constant worry volume in my head is cranked down to 1, and I’ve been getting about 18 hours of peaceful, cozy sleep per day.

And I’ve been having a lot of dreams. In one, I was riding in a golf cart with Donald Rumsfeld to the White House cafeteria. Rummy objected to me calling him “Don,” so I made him laugh by saying, “Well excuuuuuse me, Mr. Secretary of Defensiveness!” We both silently walked past Dick Cheney, who was eating at a table alone while doing an abstract paint-by-numbers.

Then there was one dream where I was looking at 35mm color slides, holding them up so I could see the light through them. I woke up and found my thumb and forefinger just inches away from my left eye.

This morning, I dreamt that water was leaking through all the cupboards in my bedroom. I woke up to find out that there are no cupboards in my bedroom.

Still, as nice as the Percocet has been to me, I want to go back to normal. I want to deploy this stone!