Ze Pain! Ze Pain!

I made it through April Fool's Day without spotting any pranks. In that time I also crossed the 24 hour mark concerning this pain in my abdomen. I had a rough go of it last night trying to get to sleep. I finally popped a pill around 4 in the morning and must've dozed off -- waking up intermittently -- and ultimately late in the afternoon. It's a rather sharp pain that goes unnoticed unless I am sitting, standing, bending or turning. I was hoping it was just a gas bubble - but activities late in the evening last night and on occasion today have led me to virtually eliminate that possibility. Nevertheless, I did just pop a couple of Tums a little over an hour ago. No such luck.

There is pain upon pressure as well. Sensitivity is limited to a certain range just right of the abdomen muscles, about 2 inches below the ribs. It may be that while out with Espaldita the other day I pushed myself a little too hard -- but what an odd location for a muscle pull, no?

There is a sort of fascination in my mind with the possibility that this could require going under the knife. An appendectomy. My best friend in the 7th grade was struck one morning with appendicitis - which had actually manifested itself shortly after lunch a day prior. We were slightly tilted towards the hooligan side, so his complaints to the teacher of stomach pain went largely unheeded. His father would carry him down the steps the next morning and into the car where they drove to the hospital and cut a slit in him.

When a group of us went to visit him a few days later, the wound was still surrounded by the yellow tint of the iodine. Such a precise incision. He was all goofballed on morphine - eyes glassed over -- but we got to push him around in a wheelchair. I was the elected chaffeur. A few years later we were in high school - sophisticated morons. I wasn't present when it happened - but apparently this same fellow had taken it upon himself to climb a gymnasium rope up to a standing platform that was probably high enough to be qualified as a second story. It was certainly higher than the basketball goals. We weren't supposed to go back there - there was a large curtain that cordoned off the area. At the time, the area was used for storing wrestling mats. I suppose he thought they were plush enough to cradle his fall. Actually, they were plush enough to break his tailbone.

I don't think he made it through senior year with us. I lost track of him after I moved down to Mexico my junior year - but whenever I would bring up his name people would ask, "Wasn't he the jackass that broke his tailbone on the wrestling mats?" Yes. Yes he was. And my side still hurts.

Update - 4/2/05 12:00PM: It is most definitely NOT a problem with the bowels. In fact - it is becoming clear that short term memory may be a partner with the culprit. On Monday evening, following a day of studies and schooling, the parental units acquired some discount furniture from that great discount curb down the street. The items were antique wooden furniture left in a home recently sold -- and the new tenant had no desire for these rather luxurious pieces. He had called goodwill on two occasions -- but was left with no choice but to leave the items at the mercy of vagrants such as ourselves.

Amazing how I am able to block out, perhaps subconsciously, significant amounts of time these days.