"I Think I Smell A Rat"

So far, Connor's stomach bug has yet to spread itself throughout the family, but that's not to say that there haven't been repercussions.

On Monday, Connor woke up acting like his normal, hyper self. Convinced that the bug had worked its way through its system, I took him to the local mall to run around and burn off some energy. I reasoned that it was still too cold out for his still-recovering immune system, and thus, we spent the morning indoors. In hindsight, though, I would have appreciated the extra, outdoor air for dissipatory purposes.

Again, as I mentioned previously, this virus has given Connor otherworldly powers with respect to his gassious emanations—it's completely wretched, I tell you.

While making good use of the Thomas the Tank Engine train table in Barnes & Noble, Connor let rip the most foul odor I have ever experienced. Sensing that either, a.) Our welcome was about to expire, or b.) Anyone within a thousand feet would think the odor was mine, we made a hasty exit. I'm sure the establishment's patrons, from front to back, all got much more than they bargained for during an otherwise banal morning of quiet bookstore-perusing. I probably should have offered to pay for the books that were ruined...

Aside from the gas, though, the bug seemed to have abated. But, yesterday morning, the vomit and diarrhea were back with a vengeance. We spent the day watching movies, eating crackers and drinking water and practically bathing in antibacterial soap.

Today, though, our little stink bug woke up just as he did on Monday—virtually symptom-free aside from a vicious poot or two. Given this disturbing pattern, I'm deathly afraid of what's coming tomorrow. The vomit?! The diarrhea?!? OH, THE HORROR!!!

More importantly, though, I'm more consumed with my own immune system's defenses. How much longer can I really be expected to hold out?!

"The Race Is On"

Connor woke up at 5:30 this morning spewing bile. His burps smell like ass, his gas smells worse than a decomposed body and he's acting as if nothing is wrong. Oh, something is wrong all right. We just aren't sure what it is yet.

So, the questions of the day are as follows:
1. What the hell does he have, and...2. when will we get it?

The countdown is on. I'm not looking forward to its conclusion.

Also, Connor fell and chipped a tooth today. It was a baby tooth (obviously) so it didn't really hurt much, but he's continuously running his tongue over the newly jagged incisor.

All this and the day isn't over yet...

"From Out Of Nowhere"

My quest for all the free orange juice I can drink has been completed. I've been grappling with how to obtain a bottomless supply of my citrus juice of choice, and stumbled upon this foolproof plan: have my appendix removed.

It's so simple, yet so brilliant...

Around noon on Thursday, my insides began to constrict, as if some thuggish hitman had his hands inside my abdomen and was squeezing my innards. Over the course of the day, it slowly got worse and at about 5 a.m. Friday, Stacey convinced me to go to the hospital. For the record, I thought I just had stomach cramps that would eventually dissipate. What I didn't know was that my stomach was located closer to my sternum, and not near my right hip bone—the location of my pain. Also, every hospital employee who heard me admit that I didn't know where my stomach was had a nice laugh at my expense.

"You poor, dumb man."

Several hours later, I was lying unconscious on an operating table, my gut filled with gas and an effecient former army surgeon removing the inflamed organ that my body would never need anyway.

Barely 24 hours later, I was back home, three bandages on my lower torso, and plenty sore. The process wasn't all that bad—about as uncomfortable as watching a Brendan Fraser movie... well, maybe not that bad. (Monkeybone? Dudley Do-Right? George of the Jungle?!) But, according to my plan, I had more than my fill of orange juice and crackers. I am a genius!

Today, I can remove the increasingly nasty gauze that's covering the bandages and, more importantly, I can shower. I don't think I smell all that bad, but I'm sure other occupants of this house might beg to differ.