I never worried about stones, Mick Jagger or otherwise, but I sure do now.

For two years my occasional bout with belly aches after eating out I often blamed on food poisoning, monosodium glutamate or Salinas lettuce.

I even asked the head cook at our golf course if bad Caesar dressing could be the culprit. He said it is possible. Some cooks use a raw egg and then pour lemon juice on to kill salmonella bugs. Sometimes it doesn't work.

Now, after nearly 10 days at the hospital, where they blasted a kidney stone no bigger than the pointy end of a needle into even smaller fragments by bombarding the beastie with more noise than the speakers on the neighbor kid's car radio, I am now in repair mode and happy to report the ordeal is fini and hopefully history.

Many e-mails came in from a friends, one of which reported a terrifying tale about pain equivalent to having a baby and wishing me luck. I found it unpleasant but bearable and have no plans to name the calcium deposit after anyone.

Thanks to incredible sleuthing by the staff at Highline Medical using the amazing CAT scan and X-rays, I was able to throw out all the wonderful advice from the learned members of my immediate family. None of them have been to medical school, but used to drink a lot of milk shakes at Olberg's Thrifty Drug in White Center.

One even suggested I consider the Mayo Clinic, but I gave that idea short shrift. I don't even use the stuff.

My kids are all deep into computers and often came to me with printouts of knowledgeable people worldwide who knew for sure that occasional upchucking could come from accidentally breathing spray from underarm deodorant, or listening to P Diddy music.

Poor Elsbeth has had to put up with a number of incidents in my rambunctious gut after eating out.

The last one was at a downtown Seattle restaurant about a month ago. After my usual chicken seizure salad, I stood up and nearly passed out. Nausea rolled over me and I barely made it to the car and headed home. We got about three miles down the road when I felt my stomach churning. Elsbeth grabbed the trash sack on the gearshift lever as I pulled over to a curb and she shoved the sack under my chin. Just in time, too.

This happened three more times before we got home and I was able to find some Tums and call my doctor.

He booked me for a visit and I ended up in the hospital.

How do you make up for that kind of eye-bugging sacrifice? I will have to fix her breakfast for another 10 years.

In Paris, Palm Beach, Maui and Las Vegas.

Maybe I can get by with the Chelan Cafe, Meal Makers, or 13 Coins.