The Question of Doggie Heritage

A few days ago, I was scrambling around cleaning house and went to get one of the blankets that resides on the corner of the couch picked up and put back in place. The problem was that I didn't realize our dog, Heidi, was curled up sleeping in it.

I pulled on the blanket and out tumbles 12lbs of white dog hair and one very groggy dog, who looked like she was trying to figure out how her world tumbled around so violently... in mid-air.

Tonight, as we made the bed, I was tossing re-pillowcased pillows onto the bed and managed to toss one onto the same dog. LJS let out a tearful wail, "Don't hurt my dog!", to which I responded, "Ah Honey, what's wrong? Did I hurt your girlfriend."

It's a long-running joke between the two of us. One dog is skinny and shy, the other fat and sassy. The skinny and shy one (Sammy) clings more to me and Heidi clings to LJS. So much so that when we are cuddling, she'll get her nose in there and force us apart and then stick her paw on him and glare at me!

Sheesh. Sammy just used to try and help (but that's another story for another time).

Anyway, the battle about who's dog was who's ensued, but this time it had an added twist by way of a 4-year-old who felt it necessary to intervene.

"No, Mom. Sammy is our dog." Impatiently, she started to climb on the bed between us, looking all the part of the child that had to constantly keep her parents from fighting (incidentally, I have no idea where that comes from-- we are always trying to explain that a discussion is not a fight and a playful argument is not mom and dad trying to get sent to the corner).

I looked at LJS. "See, he's Meg's and My dog."

"No, Mom. He's daddy's and yours and mine."

"Oh. Okay, well then whose dog is Heidi?" I asked, innocently enough, figuring she's say that Heidi was Daddy's. But instead a very gusty and sardonic voice, responded...

"I don't know!"

LOL... I know that may not make sense to many people, but the easiest way to describe it is to say... they are the epidemy of sibling rivalry!

"Hey! How did you get that fish in there?"

I've been waiting for a little while to post this blog because I wanted to have the pictures available to aid me. Before I start the story though, take a look at this photo...

Short Person and I were relaxing in the living room eating Popsicles when she suddenly looked at me and asked, "Hey! How did you get that fish in there?"

I looked down at my Popsicle wondering if I'd forgotten something and was actually sucking on a dead, frozen fish. Then I looked around the living room. Then at her.

"How did I get a fish into what?"

"That!"

She's looking seriously concerned, which is worrying me because apparently there is a fish stuck somewhere and I don't remember having a fish in the house-- at least no where other than our kitchen.

"Where, Honey? A fish in what?" I slowly look around the living room taking it all in and it suddenly occurs to me what she's looking at. "You mean... in the bookshelf?"

"Yea!"

I couldn't help it, I busted up laughing and yelled out for LJS. "Hey, come here. Your daughter has a question."

LJS walked into the living room and Short Person looks at him expectantly for an answer.

I left to go potty and I can hear LJS giving this long, detailed explanation of how you get a fish into a bookshelf, which cracks me up even more.

But then, I realized that she believed him! So, I made him tell her the truth. Party killer that I am, lol.

It is really salt and pepper shakers. Each end representing part of the fish. She thought that the body of the fish was actually stuck in the shelf.

This whole thing reminds me so much of the time she saw a Kangaroo in our neighbor's driveway. At least this time, it didn't take me six months to figure out what she was looking at!

I Have a Confession to Make

I... like Barbie movies.

I'm not sure how this happened! I mean, I was all ready to jump on the Barbie bad image bandwagon. But then, I saw a movie. And another movie. And another one.

And then, due to toddler obsessiveness, I watched them 100 more times. There is not a single Barbie movie that I have watched that I don't like. So far, I like them all.

There are even some that (shhh, don't tell)... I would watch alone. *gasp*

Princess and the Pauper... OMG! I love this movie and I listen to the soundtrack in the car.

12 Dancing Princesses... So romantic.

Mermaidia... Really, is there anyone that doesn't like Bibble? He's so cute!

And their version of Rapunzel is SO cute!

This is like the Steve thing, isn't it? I had the biggest crush on Steve from Blue's Clues. For a long time. When my niece Cait watched Blue, I watched Steve. I almost cried when he quit the show!

But then, I discovered that LOTS of other moms and girls were out there drooling over Steve too, so I didn't feel so bad. So please, if you are a Barbie movie fan, let me know. Then, I won't be so embarrassed.

Thanks.

Why Can’t They Invent an Internet Phone Book?

I am bored.

I don't want to work.

No, I would rather be goofing off on the computer all day than do any of the work piled on my desk. The problem is that I'm bored with the internet too.

How did that happen?! A world wide information data base on all sorts of deviant behavior and educational foundations and I can't find a darn thing to look at other than the five or so pages I typically go too.

Sad.

I'll tell you what they need. They need an INTERNET PHONEBOOK! A listing, sort of like Writer's Digest, that lists all the internet sites in existence in whatever year you happen to have and a brief description. You could pick up the book and flip through it (or go to some phonebook website) and randomly read, until you found a variety of sites you'd like to check out.

Wouldn't that be wonderful?!

It's not a bad idea, actually. If I knew anything about how to accumulate that data, I'd form a dot com and become rich and famous. I'd no longer be bored because I could have little wheely carts to ride around on in my office and I could install arcade games to play and I could hob nob with all the celebrities of Silicone Valley. I could jet all over the world and own property next to people like the Pitt-Jolie's. I could film my own movies and spend millions having fun. I'D NEVER BE BORED AGAIN!

But then, there would come the battles with Microsoft about who's going to take over the world and I'd wind up having to sell it to Google to escape the harrowing experience my life would have become and then I'd die a long, suffering death from stress and become a blip in someone's encyclopedia of dot comers that succumbed to the pressures of the internet and die unhappy and alone shrouded in tragedy and circumstance while they play Discovery Channel shows about the history of my life.

You know what. Too much work. I'll let someone else do all that. But, I would like to say to that person. GET ON IT! I'M BORED!!

From the Mosquito

If only they could really talk, I wonder if they would say something like this.

******************

Dear Dark Haired Person that Slept on the Couch last night,

I wanted to write a short thank you note and express my gratitude at allowing me to feast upon your flesh last night in what I can only say was a wondrously delightful meal. I have not sucked that much blood or tasted anything as sugary sweet as when you allowed me to sink my incisors in and pull.

I apologize for the multitude of red bumps that you found amassed all over different parts of your body, particularly your feet since they seem to itch you to extreme on most days anyway, but the nectar of your plasma was too good to resist and I kept coming back for more. I do hope none of them will be the gateway to a disease. Since I was born in your backyard, the only other thing I've feasted on is other family members. West Nile shouldn't be a concern.

It was particularly helpful that you were so tired you didn't try to swat me away like you have on previous nights. The smack into the wall two days ago left me feeling dizzy and light-headed and really served no purpose since I came back to torment you later. I tried biting the man in the bedroom, but he was snoring so boisterously that I almost got sucked up into a nostril and decided it was much safer to seek nourishment elsewhere. As for the child, well, as much as I like to buzz, her whining sets my buzzing to shame. I simply didn't want to wake her.

So see, you really were my only choice. Therefore, I again would like to graciously thank you. Should you remember to stick those annoyingly smelly dryer sheets all over you to keep me away, preventing my visit tonight, I just wanted to say that the memory of you will last until I hunger again and find your flesh to feast upon when you are not aware.

Have a good evening,
The mosquito

Caca Doodle Doo!

We are watching Little Bit (my niece) right now. She is part Spanish and speaks a little of the language since she has an uncle that teaches it to her. For this reason, her big word for going poop is "Caca". (I'm not sure how to spell that.)

The girls were in the bathroom washing hands, brushing teeth, and generally goofing off this evening when Short Person had to go potty. When she got all done, Little Bit looked at her and said, "Did you go Caca?"

And Short Person, without missing a beat, responded, "Doodle Doo!"

lol...

She's feeling much better, by the way. She's got her appetite back and finally slept an entire night last night. Thank goodness!

The bad news is that they want to do a follow up CAT scan on her in another week and a half to make sure the selling of the lymph nodes has gone down. Since they have to inject her with dye to get everything to show on the film, it means another needle poke.

I am not happy :(

Long Night at ER Pt. 2 - It Was Like an Episode of House

(Sorry it took so long to get back to this... I'm so tired I can't see. Also, writing this feels very "breaky" to me, but I'm beat. You'll see why.)

Short Person is only covered by LJS's insurance, which isn't really a big deal, except that we have no idea which hospitals are covered by his insurance. We know it isn't the one in our town, though. So, after hanging up with the Doctor, I went and grabbed my purse and called the number on the back of the card.

The number that had a big bold statement that all hospital admissions must be pre-authorized.

I got an answering machine stating that they were closed. Great, I thought. Next, I ran to the computer to log on to their website... nothing. I seriously mean NO INFORMATION.

A bunch of things were going through my head-- the pain my child is in, the cost of an ER visit, and the worry that I'd get there and they'd see her and send me home because it was constipation. In the end, we decided to take her to an Urgent Care because they cost less. (Not that $$ was our number one worry, but if you're worried that it's more than constipation... money does have merit.)

All the Urgent Care places were closed, so I decided to drive the 40 minutes to Meridian Park Hospital. The only hospital I thought I knew was covered. I parked the car and carried her in, checked in, and took a seat in the waiting room. Since we have Little Person with us for the next week and a half, LJS was at home awaiting word about whether he needed to join me.

A nurse came and pulled us from the waiting room, sat us down and took all our information. Once that was done, she explained that she needed to go and consult with the other nurses and doctors because she didn't know whether to put Short Person on the pediatric side or on the regular ER side. She believed Shortie was going to need a larger workup that what the Pedia side was used to doing.

A few minutes later, she came back and said we were going on the regular side and assigned us a bed-- 211. (I still don't know why the 2. We were on the 1st floor so it seemed like such an oddity.)

The "room" was a bed that was out in the open and sat next to the "hallway" to the waiting room. It was center to all the nurses stations and doctor's desks. Occasionally, you'd see the Paramedics wheel people in, which was kinda cool. As much as it lacked privacy, I liked it because it gave me the feeling that they really wanted to keep an eye on Short Person. Every time they'd walk by to go into the Pediatric side, they'd smile at her and occasionally comment.

I think we actually met every nurse on duty, in some capacity or another. Even if it was just to check on us.

Another nurse, I think his name was Stacy, came over and took more information. He asked Shortie if she could go potty, "Could she try?", he wanted to know. Meg looked at him dubiously and said, "Okay. I'll try, but I don't think anything is going to come out."

Stacy looked back at her, "Well, go ahead and try. We only need a teenie tiny bit."

I carried Meg back to the bathroom and she looked down into the toilet at the basin they had put in to catch the urine. "What's that? I don't like it."

"Honey, it'd to catch your pee pee so that they can do a test. We need to leave it in." I had to wipe her down with one of those cold obstetrical towelettes and forewarned her that it was really cold.

"Will it tickle?"

"It might, but if I can do it really fast, it won't be that bad." I responded. She bowed her legs and I got it done right quick.

"Wow! That was freezing!"

"I know, Honey. Now let's go potty."

I wish I had a picture of her amazed look when something actually came out. It was one of absolute shock, which I thought was funny, considering.

No sooner had I gotten her back onto her "bed", than we were being led back to radiology for X-rays. I'm trying to remember what she thought of that ride down the hall, laying down as the bed rolled down the hall, but I think she felt so bad she didn't say much.

The first X-rays were taken standing up. She had to stand against a wall and put her hands down at her sides. She kept wanting to put them in front of her tummy, with her hands clasped together, which wouldn't work for obvious reasons. When I told her that she really needed to put her hands down, she responded that she "didn't know how". So, I showed her.

They let me stay in the room with her, but I had to wear a really big lead vest that Meg thought was funny. I got to try and pick her up in it when they finished the three pictures, which was a hoot. It weighed as much as she did. When I bent over the bed, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to stand up!

X-rays in the can, they wheeled us back, where we waited some more. While we were waiting, there was a girl in the Pediatric side that was crying and crying and screaming. I was so concerned that Meg would get freaked out by it and think that she was somehow in for that horrific a time. I needn't have worried. She just looked at me and said, "I think someone has a really big owie!" I agreed, but secretly wondered what in the heck they were doing to the child, cause the kid was saying, "No, not again. Not again!"

I don't remember it as being too long though before the Doctor came over to talk to us. He was a really... I want to say no-nonsense, but he was so person-to-person and attentive that the word seems wrong. He asked a lot of questions about her history, then did a really quick exam (eyes, mouth, ears, heartbeat, listen to lungs, listen to abdomen) and then informed us that he was going to need to do a quick rectal (finger type, not anything else thank goodness!)

Since Short Person had to have that suppository put in earlier that morning, I was able to warn her about what it would feel like. She took it in stride, like a little trooper. I made them put her behind a curtain though because... yeah, out in the open just seemed wrong. She was already upset that she had to take her underwear off, so having her out in the open wasn't going to happen.

He did the exam and she did great. It hurt, but he talked to her during it to let her know that he was almost done, etc. Then, he was done and wiped her up, then covered her up. He went to deliver the sample and Meg looked at me and asked if she could please put her underwear back on in this little voice. Poor thing. I wondered if she felt vulnerable or just fear that he'd come back.

Anyway, the Doctor came back and said that he believed it was a condition called intussusception where the intestine, in the course of normal movement and digestion collapses in on itself cutting off the blood supply causing both the pain and the tiredness she felt after the tummy pain. He stated that he was going to call the Pediatrician on-call at Emanuel Children's Hospital and consult with them to see if they wanted the tests to be started there, or if they'd prefer we transferred up and got admitted for observation. The tests would include drawing blood to rule out everything else (pancreatitis, gallbladder, infection, etc.) and an ultrasound. If it was the intussusception, the test for it was usually the cure-- a barium and blowing air into the colon. He went away to get ahold of Emanuel.

No parent likes to see their child in pain, let alone know that they were unintentionally going to cause a lot of it and I wanted LJS there! Not to mention that they are now starting to use big words and talk admission for more than just an hour. By this time, it was 9:30pm and I had no idea what to do with Little Person. Meg fell asleep and I went into the waiting room to call him and give him an update, freaked out because I knew they were going to have to draw blood from Meg's arm and I didn't want to be the only one there.

After calling him, I started calling everyone I could think of that didn't live too far away. No one answered their phone, giving me the conclusion that I need more friends that live closer! I called Mike back and let him know that I couldn't find anyone to come watch Little Person and agreed to call him back with an update. If needed, he'd just bring the Little One.

I went back to wait for the Doctor and sat by Meg, who had woken up and was sitting talking to a nurse. They were having a conversation about her stuffed kitty with no name.

It didn't take too long for the Doctor to come back and let us know that they were going to do the tests here and consult with Emanuel again afterward. This meant drawing blood.

Stacy, the male nurse, came over with the cart and started pulling stuff out. By this time, Meg had dozed off again. I didn't want to wake her up two seconds beforehand because I knew it would freak her out. If an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, a smidgen of forewarning is worth a scoop of terror. I woke her up and talked to her. I asked her if she remembered watching mommy get her arm poked that morning and then just went over as much of it as possible. I asked if she wanted Mommy to hold her while it happened and she said yes. I then picked her up and we looked at all the stuff on the cart, going over what everything was.

Then, the dreaded time arrived. The Doctor had decided to draw blood and then leave an IV line in so that if he needed more, or if she needed to have other tests, they wouldn't have to poke her again. I climbed into the bed behind her and held on to her as they worked, listening to her scream as they poked the needle in and drew blood holding on to her arms so that she wouldn't try to pull the needle out.

Even now, i still tear up. That ranks up there as one of the worst things I've had to do.

Finally, it was over. They wrapped her arm up so that she wouldn't have to look at it and walked away. She calmed down and stopped crying and looked at me, "Mom... that was NOT fun! I want my Daddy!"

Since I figured it would be a few minutes until they came to get us for the ultrasound, I carried her into the waiting room, literally ten steps away, and we called Daddy. I think it was about 11pm... and it was the last time we'd get to talk to him until we left.

Luckily, she didn't mind the ultrasound one bit, although she was a little curious about the gel stuff. She was actually so relaxed that she crashed and stayed asleep until hours later. It was interesting watching the images of her intestines on the screen, but of course you can't ever tell what anything is, so after awhile it got a little boring.

She got wheeled back to the ER, and I started fighting low blood-sugar. At some point, it started to dawn on me that I hadn't eaten in far too long a time period. But, at the same time, I wasn't sure what I could do about that. While we were waiting for the results of the tests, one of the nurses brought her a big lion that was about 2/3 the size of Meg and sat it on the end of the bed. She looked so small next to it.

At midnight, the Doctor came back and pressed on Meg's tummy again. Then, he told us that everything looked normal. No appendicitis, no pancreatitis, no gall bladder problems, no high white cell count, didn't think it was the intestine fold thing (my words, not his). HOWEVER, they did notice that her lymph nodes were swollen. He ended this by stating that he didn't know what to make of this, and neither did the Pediatrician. He was going to check a few other things out, thought he had heard about a virus that mimicked appendicitis by enlarging the nodes, but wanted to see if he should do a CAT scan.

Sometime earlier, I started writing all of this down in a little book. I was thinking that if nothing else, it would make one heck of a blog post, so I picked it up again to write this latest information down. Since we were so out in the open, I could see and hear everything that was going on. There were a lot of people around, but it didn't take long to realize that Meg was this doctor's only patient, and he was putting a lot of effort into a diagnosis.

I listened as he made another call, this time to the Radiologist at Emanuel's, and then listened as he asked the nurse to please page the Pediatric Hematologist-Oncologist on-call at Emanuel "in regards to bed 11".

If there was one word that I didn't want to hear, it was the word Oncology. I can't explain what I went through in those seconds after hearing that. My blood went cold. I felt sick. I started to shake. I stayed that way until he came over to talk to me.

He stayed standing at the bedside and gave the latest news, stating that everything looked normal, but didn't know if the swollen lymph nodes were significant. He admitted having called for a specialist in oncology, since the biggest fear was Lymphatic Leukemia.

Right about this time, I pretty much couldn't hold back and started crying. It was one of those things where you just can't seem to help that your eyes are streaming rivulets of water out of them and you know that your whole pallor has gone white and you're lucky you can hear anything because there's a rushing in your ears. I was also thinking about my Grandma, who had died from leukemia. I didn't tell the Doctor that.

He went on to explain that the people he called were specialists and it was taking time for them to call back because they weren't used to getting paged in the middle of the night. Part of him wondered if they even had their pagers on. He also stated that the reason he was keeping us was that, since Meg already had the IV in her arm, it was better to get the CAT scan done and out of the way to avoid a needle poke a day later. PLUS, if she needed a biopsy, then they could transfer and do it the next day.

He went away to have the doctors paged again, and I sad next to Meg wondering if I should call Mike, or save him the worry. Saving him the worry won out and I continued a fight against a nauseous stomach that now had nothing to do with low blood-sugar. Thankfully, a nurse came over and asked if there was anything I needed at that point (okay, when that happens, it's nice and thoughtful, but it also makes you think that it must be REALLY bad if they are now asking, in the ER, if you need anything). I requested something to drink with sugar. She brought apple juice and a sandwich.

I drank the apple juice, but I couldn't eat.

A few minutes later, the doctor came back and said that the Oncology Specialist wanted 3 more blood tests and a CAT scan. Also, since he had to be back in a few hours for another shift, he had to leave but turned us over to another ER doctor. Before he left, I watched him consult with that Doctor. As scary as everything had been, it was nice to know that they really were not leaving any stone unturned, so to speak.

They came and wheeled us back to radiology. Meg woke up from her nap right as we entered the room. She held it together through the line-up and the dye, but lost it when we told her to lay flat because she had to go back through. NO WAY was she having any of that. Stacy came in and wondered if they could give her some Benedryl to calm her down, which I was uncomfortable with because she'd had Motrin earlier and I didn't want to mix the two.

Unfortunately, we realized Meg was not going to calm down and wheeled her back to ER to see what else we could do-- which seemed to be, go home or admit for observation.

At this point, I was really wishing LJS could have been there. When I can't find a way to calm her down or communicate with her, he always can. It's a balancing act, I think. We balance eachother out, because I can calm her when he can't too.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow after we got back, I got Meg calmed down enough to try again. I actually think it had more to do with her coming fully awake and having control again, but either way, she agreed to give it another go... as long as kitty could be right by her side.

They came to draw the blood they'd need for the additional tests and made a decision to give her some morophine to ease the pain and sedate her a little. The morophine went in, we went down the hall, and she went into the tube for another line up and then a picture.

The test took about three minutes, I think. She was a little upset because kitty couldn't be right at her side, but she could hold him in her hands above her head. Which she did, saying "I'm going to hold on to kitty so he won't get hurt or scared". Poor thing. I wonder if she thought there was going to be some horrible trauma in that tube or something.

After the three minutes, the bed moved out of the tube and I could tell that the morophine had kicked in. "Mom, that was SO FUN!" She got back on the bed and they wheeled her out. At the first big corner, she was going "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee".

It was funny.

The test results took about 45 minutes to come back, and they came back negative for leukemia, I think. I was getting a little rummy at this point (it was 3:30am). They sent us home with instructions to follow up on Monday with our regular doctor.

Meg was starving! They gave her some apple juice, and I gave her some bread, but on the way home I picked up some cookies from McD's. A treat for her for being so good. When we finally got home (at 4:30am), she was so doped up that she just stared at the cookie. We were telling her that it was time for bed and she was saying, "Okay! I'm going to eat my cookie really fast!" and then, she just stare at it. We were laughing our rears off!

When I started writing Part 1, we were still (Mike and I) trying to go over what could be wrong. Food allergy, bacteria imbalance, etc. Once the morophine wore off, Meg was in pain again, so we were a little stressed. But the ER doctor called us with a diagnosis. This is where the part about feeling like a House episode come into play.

He stated that the ER doctor hadn't waited for the Specialists from Australia to call with the results, but they finally had. Megan has Mesenteric Lymphadenitis, a virus that mimics the same symptoms as appendicitis. It should abate in another two to five days.

Thank goodness.

In our visit, they had run almost every test possible and consulted with about seven specialists. Reaching across countries to get a diagnosis.

And I am tired, so goodnight!

A LONG night at the Emergency Room

For the past 5 days, Short Person has been having abdominal pain. It looked to be in the lower abdomen, just below her belly button. We figured it was constipation since we have a devil of a time getting the kid to eat anything with fiber in it and have been treating it as such.

On Tuesday, when it first started, we gave her caffeine and lots of water, which produced a bowel movement the next morning. Wednesday, she was reportedly fine until we got home and the cramping started again. Again, we figured constipation. Gave her more water and some coffee, hoping for the immediate reaction. Thursday night, she continued with the cramping. So much so that I decided Friday to take her, instead of me, to my Doctor appointment on Saturday. By mid-Friday though, she was in agony and we resorted to prune juice and I purchased a box of Ex-Lax.

To make a long story a little shorter, the box of Ex-Lax said not to give it to her if she had abdominal pain, so I didn't. We rode out the day by giving her warm baths and tummy rubs and lots of prune juice.

Saturday morning, as we were getting ready to leave for the Doctors, she had a bowl movement. We all cheered as she sat on the toilet yelling, "My poops coming out! My poops coming out!". Hooray we all thought.

Since I told her that she was going to the Doctor, and she's a bit of a hypochondriac anyway, she wanted to go with me still. So, I took her and had her checked out. About half way through the appointment, her tummy started hurting again. Dr. Christie said that it was probably constipation and told me to give her a glycerin suppository. Went to Bi-Mart and purchased some pediatric ones. Got home and put it in.

This was at 10:15am.

At 2:00pm, we were supposed to leave to meet J & K for an afternoon showing of WALL-E. At 12:00pm, I had to call and cancel because she was still having cramping.At this point, nothing had come of the suppository.

At 3:00pm, she started cramping for two hours, crying and writhing on the floor.

Called Dr. Christie who informed us to take her to the ER because this was not constipation.

And now, our story begins...

Rise of the Hockey Sticks

Short Person and I were playing a game of hide and seek. Her version of the game is to go and hide and then giggle uproariously until found-- something that we drag out to make her feel like we can't find her. Me, when I hide, ain't nobody gonna find me!

So, the other day, I was hiding and Short Person was seeking. (Incidentally, she calls it "sneaking".) I was hidden behind the bathroom door, quiet as a mouse, and she could not find me.

It is important to interject that I have been on LJS to tone down the use of his colorful words, because on occasion I have heard SP use them. But, since HE hasn't, he wouldn't do it. He says that I'm hallucinating. (yeah, sure, honey)

So Short Person is getting more and more frustrated by the fact that she can't find me until finally she reaches the end of her rope. Standing in the middle of the living room, she yells out, "Mom, where in the HELL are you?!"

LOL... LJS was laughing so hard he had to hold on to his gut. He believes me now.