Waiting for Godot

Sorry for making you wait a week+ in between posts. Mid-term week makes it tough to blog. I know waiting is no fun. And that leads me to the topic for this post: Waiting ... for a championship.

The Cavaliers went 66-16 this season. That is not a typo. They won 66 times in 82 tries. They were the best team in the entire National Basketball Association. The first round of the playoffs was laughable. The once mighty Detroit Pistons were left to watch in awe as their dynasty window slammed closed. That's what you get for trading a team player in Chauncey Billups for a me-centric Allen Iverson who doesn't enjoy attending practice (Practice? Practice?). The second round of the playoffs was uneventful as the Cavs swept the surprisingly talented Atlanta Hawks. Two rounds, eight games, eight wins. All eights wins were by double digits. King James, it seemed, was on his way to a second chance at an NBA title: a fitting end to his MVP season.

But we all forgot about one key detail: the Cavs are from Cleveland. And Cleveland teams simply don't win. They don't win when they're supposed to be bad, and they don't win when they're supposed to be good. The Cavs should have been swept by the Orlando Magic last night. If LeBron didn't have super-human basketball skills they would have been. Instead its a 3-1 Magic lead. But just as easily as the Cavs could have been swept, they could be up 3-1. Games 1, 2, and 4 all ended with would-be game-winning shots, only one going in.

So it goes. We shouldn't be surprised. Cleveland sports do no have a very kind history. In 1995, the Tribe lost the World Series to the Atlanta Braves. In 1997, the Tribe lost the World Series to the (five-year-old) Florida Marlins after having a lead in game 7. In 1996, Art Modell picked up Cleveland's favorite franchise and took them to Baltimore where they became the Ravens and won a Super Bowl just five years later. The Browns came back and lost their first game to the hated Steelers by a closer-than-it-sounds score of 41-0. All this time the Cavs were a joke.

But then, by the grace of ping-pong balls, we had our savior: LeBron James. 18 years old and fresh out of high school, he was King. Remember when he scored the final 29 points for the Cavs against the Pistons in 2007? That sent the Cavs to their only Finals appearance ever, which they lost in four games to the dynastic Spurs. Later in 2007, the Indians tied for the best record in all of baseball. They beat the hated Yankees in four games in the ALDS (remember the gnats?). They were up three games to one on the almost equally as hated Boston Red Sox. But of course, these Indians were from Cleveland, and they proceeded to lose the next three games as the Red Sox went on to win their second championship in four years.

And then the 2008-2009 basketball season arrived. LeBron and the Cavs were untouchable. And now they face elimination. Let's face it, the Cavs are going to win the next two games to tie the series. And then they will lose. Like all teams from Cleveland, they will lose.

I know what you're saying, "That sports history isn't so bad." Well, that's just Cleveland's sports history since I was born. The entire history goes like this: Indians win a lot in the 1950s, but then lose a lot in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. The Browns win a lot including a championship in 1964. 1965 brings Super Bowl 1. The Browns have yet to play in a Super Bowl. They have come close though.

The Drive: AFC Championship game. Browns are winning with two minutes left to play and the Denver Broncos pinned on their own two yardline. John Elway drives 98-yards to win the game.

The Fumble: AFC Championship game. Browns are ready to score the game-winning touchdown with seconds to play. Ernest Byner has a wide-open path to the endzone and inexplicably drops the ball before scoring. It is recoved by ... wait for it ... the Denver Broncos.

Red-Right 88: Playoffs. The Browns are in field goal range. A field goal wins it. All they need is a field goal. But they want to run just one more play: a pass to the endzone. Guess what happens? Correct, it is intercepted. Browns lose. The play they ran was Red-Right 88.

Then of course, Art Modell takes them away.

The Cavs had some great teams in the 1980s. But the Chicago Bulls had this guy named Michael Jordan. Recall The Shot. Michael Jordan hits a last-second game-winner over Craig Ehlo to send the Bulls to the Finals. Michael kept the Cavs out of it a few other times as well.

All in all, the Indians have not won a World Series since 1948, the Browns have not won a championship since 1964 and have never even been to a Super Bowl, and the Cavs have never won an NBA Championship and have appeared in the Finals just once. Cleveland has not won a professional sports championship in 45 years. Poor Cubs fans? Yea, it's been 100 years since a World Series, but come on? What about the 1985 Bears and the Super Bowl Shuffle? What about that guy, Michael Jordan? He only won six NBA Titles. Poor Clippers fans? Well ... their aren't any Clippers fans. But they had the Raiders and the Dodgers. Poor Denver Nuggets fans? Remember the Drive and the Fumble, those were against your Broncos and your precious John Elway. Poor Bills fans? Yea, they lost four straight Super Bowls, but what about this: they played in four straight Super Bowls! Sure their record in those games was 0-4, but you had 4 great football seasons.

Cleveland is head and shoulders above everybody else when it comes to Sports Suffering. LeBron will eventually win a title in his career. Most likely he will win a few. But he's a free agent after next season and has aspirations of being the first billionaire athlete. He's good friends with Jay-Z, part-owner of the Knicks, who are building a brand new stadium in Brooklyn. The Indians have for the most part the same team as 2007, yet they were 81-81 last year and are looking a losing season dead in the face this year. And the Browns ... I'm not even going to talk about the Browns.

So Cleveland fans keep waiting... And I keep waiting ... Waiting until one day we get to pack downtown for that victory parade. I want it to happen so badly that I have a stomachache every day. Well, that might not be because of Cleveland's lack of a championship parade, but it doesn't mean I don't want it!

Until next time, keep waiting. -IW

Name That Stone!

Two things for today's post.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009 was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. I woke up, and everything was fine. I was brushing my teeth, bent over to spit, and BAM! Like a harpoon in my back, I felt the stone lodge in my ureter. I got through my two classes in the morning, but after that, it was evident that the pain was only getting worse. I made the decision to take a pain pill. But then something happened that has never happened after taking a percocet: I vomited. I waited another two hours and took another pill, believing that a two hour lay-over would suffice considering I didn't keep the first pill down. Then a funny thing happened that really wasn't funny at all: I vomited again. I realized something must be wrong.

It was time for the E.R. Fortunately, a floor mate of mine offered to walk over there with me. He offered to wait inside with me as well, but I told him that would not be necessary. Slowly but surely I went through the hospital's protocol and got the necessary pain management. My mother was nice enough (and had a schedule empty enough) to make the two and a half hour drive to be there with me. The ultrasound showed that my kidney was indeed swollen, and then the doctors told me a lot of what I already know: huge stone, follow-up with a urologist, get it removed sooner rather than later.

When I was first taken back, a doctor came to evaluate what was going on. It was evident I knew what I was talking about, and he asked if I had ever had a stent in either of my ureter. O doctor. I told him the story of my DIY stent of early April. And his reaction wasn't exactly what I was expecting. Sure he couldn't believe that something so traumatic was asked of a 19-year-old kid (kid, ha), but he was most surprised that there was even such a thing as a DIY stent. He had never even heard of such a thing. Hmm ... Sounds like a DIY stent is a highly experimental, under-the-table, "keep it hush-hush" procedure that should only be found in the "Malpractice: DO NOT PERFORM" file.

I didn't have any pain yesterday or today, so with any luck, the stone settled back in for a tasty nap until it will be unexpectedly awakened, removed, and destroyed in June. This monster is over two centimeters in diameter. Once again, for those of you who may be mathematically or metrically challenged, that is nearly an inch in diameter, which is real big. I think its size qualifies it as epic enough to require a name.

Here are a few right off the top of my head: Rocky, Indiana Stone, Al Ca-stone, Tony Stone-prano, Sammy Stone-sa, Rock McGwire, The Incredible Rock, Magic Rockson. That's all I got right now. Any ideas would be appreciated though. It needs a name, so that I can refer to it in the third person quickly and easily

And now on to topic number two. Take a look at the map on the side toolbar that shows where the Intestineless Wonder blog has been read. Do it right now. As you can see, it has now been read in 9 different countries and on 3 different continents. It is very close to qualifying as a global blog. I'd like to thank all of you for reading and for spreading it around. Keep it up! I'd like to see red dots in a few more places. So I am commissioning anyone with friends in foreign countries to tell said friends to log on to the Intestineless Wonder, if only to globalize it. If you have any friends who are celebrities and would plug it using their available medium, that would be appreciated, too. Ha.

There's only one way all short-gutters will be aware of this blog: VOLUME! Yes, yelling it is necessary. That way more people hear it and become intrigued and, therefore, more likely to find out who yelled "volume" and for what reason. That reason, of course, being to get people aware of the Intestineless Wonder.

We're also getting close to 1,000 views. That's big time. Thanks to all who encouraged me to start writing a blog and those who encouraged me to continue writing through difficult times. It definitely helped me through some tough times, and I like to think it may have helped some other people. With any luck, it will help someone in the future as well.

Once again, please, tell your friends. Get that readership into the quadruple digits, and let's make the Intestineless Wonder globally-known. Some public recognition would be fantastic, not only for the blog itself and all that that accomplishment would represent, but for those suffering through short-gut out there, helpless, not knowing what else to do or where else to turn. Maybe it helps the families of SGers too by giving a little insight into what goes through someone's mind while they are dealing with short-gut. While doctors charge outrageous fees, can be a little hit-and-miss, and often have bigger fish to fry, the doors to the Intestineless Wonder are always open. Well, as long as you have internet access.

Until next time, keep reading and go Tribe! -IW

Not Reading This Blog Would Be Highly Illogical

Lots to talk about today. Nothing huge, just a wide range of relevant topics.

First, I'd like to extend a hearty congratulatory handshake to myself for being read in seven different countries on three different continents. I believe that qualifies The Intestineless Wonder as being an international blog. I think it needs one more continent and at least double digits countries to be considered global. In due time ...

Second, to all the mothers reading this, Happy Mother's Day. I can honestly say that I would not be where I am right now if it weren't for my mother, and not just because she drove me here. Ha. She's been that rock that I have leaned on for the last 18+ months. Love ya, Mom.

This past weekend was pretty fantastic. I went home for the weekend. My parents and I went to the Tribe game on Friday, where they proceeded to lose 1-0. On Saturday, I hung out with a few friends. We went to see the new Star Trek movie. It was unbelievable. I mean, absolutely fantastic. Everything I could have ever hoped for and so much more. I definitely recommend giving it a shot. Not going to see it would be highly illogical. Bam! Spock reference right in your face!

Then we went downtown for the Tribe game (yes, two in two nights). Our plan was to hit up the Winking Lizard for some dinner before the game because it's about two blocks away from the stadium. We walk in to the Lizard, and the maitre'd asks, "you fellas have your I.D.s?" My response: "For all the not alcohol we're not going to order?" As it turns out, you have to be 21 to eat food and not drink at the Winking Lizard after 5 p.m. on the weekend. So after about fifteen minutes of wondering where to eat (because I thought the Winking Lizard was less of a bar than anything else around us), my father brilliantly suggested walking into the Marriott and asking for a suggestion. They suggested the Irish Pub down the street. I have to admit, I was skeptical, but sure enough, they welcomed us with open arms. It was glorious. I went with the blackened grouper sandwich followed closely by a Gas-X. Then we went to the game where we got our free Cliff Lee Cy Young Award Bobbleheads. We sat in the bleachers and had a grand ol' time. But yet again, the Tribe was shut-out, 4-0.

Late Saturday night, I watched Saturday Night Live, one of my favorite programs. For any loyal SNL viewers, you know that Justin Timberlake has become somewhat of a legend. Well, he was the host on Saturday, and he certainly did not disappoint. Somehow J.T. successfully transformed himself from a teen boy-band member who I hated to a hilarious celebrity who makes me laugh loud and long. You may remember the infamous SNL Digital Short that he was in last time he hosted. This week he and Andy Samberg reprised their roles for the sequel: "Motherlover." In this one, the two are released from prison and have forgotten that it is Mother's Day. They proceed to brainstorm and come up with a gift for their respective mothers that will give them not only a great Mother's Day but also a great Mother's Night. Ha. Hilarity ensues. I suggest giving it a quick once-over. Viewer discretion advised, though.

On Sunday, the fam and I went to the grandparents' house and spent the day there. It was a good Mother's Day.

And that brings us to tonight: the season finale of House. All I can say about the last three episodes is that they are a brilliantly written masterpiece which is far and away the best series of episodes in the entire series. I cannot get over how mind-blowing it was.

Anyway, I think that's about it for right now. I am four and a half weeks away from summer vacation and returning home for good. Which of course means no more campus food, no more campus people, and no more living in a ten by fifteen cell. It can't come fast enough.

Until then everybody, live long and prosper. -IW

Freshman Fifteen: Consider Yourself Jinxed

Five weeks from today is my last day of exams for this quarter, my last at Ohio State. Five weeks until I get to come home for good. Five weeks until my freshman year of college ends.

Preparing for college, colleges and their students sent countless letters and e-mails to me and all other high school seniors with pieces of advice for enhancing the college experience. One of the most-talked-about topics was the ominous Freshman Fifteen: the inevitable weight-gain that every college student encounters during their first year away from home due to the ease with which one finds fatty or sugary foods.

Last summer, when someone would give a short speech about avoiding the freshman fifteen, I thought to myself, "O God, please, please let me gain the freshman fifteen. You know what? Forget the freshman fifteen; let me gain the freshman forty-five!"

With five weeks left in my freshman year, I have successfully avoided the freshman fifteen. But the thing is, I would like to gain the weight. So with time running out, my only option is to jinx my weight. Unfortunately, I doubt that Sports Illustrated is going to put a picture of me shirtless on a scale on their cover, so I must take matters into my own hands.

"I don't have to worry about gaining the freshman fifteen anymore!" Don't anybody knock on wood. There it is, I jinxed it. By the time I wake up on the morning of June 12, I should be fifteen pounds heavier. That's all there is to it. This better work though, nothing else seems to.

This is a short post today. There isn't a lot happening right now. Just counting down the days until my next trip home (tomorrow). I am currently fighting through back pain ... again. It's the same type of soreness that I have grown intimately familiar with over the course of the past few months. It's not quite as sharp as it usually is though; it is just really sore and uncomfortable. It will probably get worse for this weekend, that would be just my luck. The fam and I have tickets to the Tribe game tomorrow night. Although it might just be a trip for Pa and I, since Shellster has a softball game scheduled against archrival Archbishop Hoban. On Saturday, Subak, another kid, and I are going to the new Star Trek movie and then heading up to the Tribe game. That's right, two Tribe games in two nights. Then Sunday, of course, is Mother's Day, which I will be spending with my mother.

So, I suppose I will talk with all of you later. Adios muchachos. -IW

I Am Ironman

Tomorrow is May 2, which marks 18 months since I went from being a naive, arrogant senior in high school to a bitter not-yet-18-year-old adult, well-schooled in the inequities of the real world. 548 days since I didn't have a stomach ache. When I went to the E.R. that fateful Friday morning, they asked what I had eaten in the last forty-eight hours, or at least I told them what I had eaten; most of that weekend is blacked out from my memory. But anyway, here is what I had eaten.

Two days before, on Wednesday, it was Halloween, which to most of my age group means Chipotle will give you a free burrito if you show up with a tin foil costume. So there was the barbacoa burrito with white rice, black beans, tomato and corn salsa, and sour cream wrapped up in a gigantic white flour tortilla with a free soft drink. I watched that week's House episode that night with a friend.

Thursday began, and I had a bowl of cereal. Surprisingly, I cannot recall which manufactured sugary treat I ate that morning. I left with that same friend to do some volunteering. We had Thursday and Friday off of school, and National Honor Society required so many hours of community service hours from each member. The friend's sister worked with mentally challenged students at Solon Middle School, so we spent the day helping out there. It was easy service that looked good on paper. We went to lunch at an Hibachi restaurant. I had the steak. It wasn't very good, and I blamed this meal for a long time for what happened. I hate Hibachi restaurants. Sitting at a bar-like table with people you don't know. Having to watch a chef prepare your food. Come on: kitchens are in the back of restaurants because people don't want to see their food being cooked. I mean, people get upset when they get seated too close to the kitchen. Why would I want to sit at the stove and eat? But alas, my friend really liked Hibachi restaurants, and I really like my friend. Obviously, I caved (and paid).

Then came dinner. Thursday night was leftover night. That meant it was pretty much a free for all. So I had a big plate of speghetti and meatballs. And two soft shell beef tacos. I had a bowl of ice cream later that night. I went to bed around 11:00 and slept for about an hour and a half, waking at 12:43 a.m. writhing in pain. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Last May 2nd was a memorable day as well. It was a Friday. The last day I ever went to Walsh Jesuit High School as a student. Senior breakfast, senior mass, the senior walk-through, and just like that, it was over. It rained that day.

It was also prom day. Most in my group had dates. By that time, my friend was long gone, so I went stag. One of my friends' dad was at the senior breakfast, heard that I was going stag, and asked why I didn't just ask some girl to go with me as friends to have a good time and all. I had already thought of a brilliantly worded response and had been waiting weeks for someone to ask me that very question. Some of the group was gathered around too, so they were there to hear my response. Here is what I said: "Six months ago today, I got real sick. I missed two months of school. I had to watch my friends go to freaking London while I stayed behind. My girlfriend broke up with me, citing my lack of effort at getting well. I've been on a 12-hour I.V. every night since then, and tonight my doctors have decided to begin to try weaning me off of it. This is my first night of being somewhat normal again. The last thing I want to do is worry about whether some random girl is enjoying her senior prom!" I got a few laughs, a slap on the back, a few handshakes, and an immeasurable amount of respect from those within earshot.

The dance itself was terrible. Everything about it was terrible. Except the steak. The fillets they served were enormous, well-cooked, and delicious. After that there wasn't one redeeming thing about it. At that time it was pretty clear that all but one of my previously loyal-to-the-end friends was ready to move on to a less morbid life style, whatever the consequences. The friend who didn't had a date to attend to.

The music choice represented everything that I hate about my generation. That was when Soulja Boy was well past his peak of underserved popularity yet they still played the song twice. They did play "Don't Stop Believing." But it was the type of "Don't Stop Believing" that makes you stop believing in all of humanity. It was a nameless rapper's lame attempt at popularity by playing a popular anthem's chorus and then rapping indecipherable sexual innuendos in between choruses. I nearly left right then when they played it.

The group went to someone's house to change for after-prom. Guys went to the basement to change out of our tuxes and into street clothes. I began changing without thinking, then when I was halfway through removing my shirt, I remembered that nobody had ever seen a Hickman Catheter and, although they knew I was on a nightly I.V., had probably never thought of how I get the I.V. into my body. So I said, "Want to see something you've never seen before?" And off the shirt came. For one night at least, I was Ironman. Again, respect through the roof, but for some reason most of them seemed a tad uncomfortable. I don't have any idea why; they all had their shirts off too. Ha.

After-Prom wasn't much better. The creatively named fair-like get-together at our high school had a bunch of blow-up obstacle courses and such activities, some casino activities, and the same lame d.j. as the dance. After half an hour they corraled the entire student body into the cafeteria. Someone had discovered beer bottles in the bathroom at the country club where prom was. Which meant everyone needed to be breathalized before returning to the festivities. Everyone got up and got in line (except for one table of conspicuously unenthused prom-goers). When I got to the front, Mr. Dodds said he didn't want to waste his time or mine and told me to just get back to the party. Good thing, or else I might have missed standing around watching other peolple have fun. I wasn't confident enough physically to partake in any of the blow-up activities, and that was all my group of friends wanted to partake in. So I loitered. For three hours. Then we went to a friends house and had a "good time" the rest of the night. Subak didn't come. I was unbelievably let down, but eventually got over it.

Morning came, and I drove home to watch the Kentucky Derby with the fam. The horse I picked to win didn't win. And the lone filly, Eight Belles, had to be euthanized on the track after the race. Once again, this weekend is the Kentucky Derby. "The most exciting two and a half minutes in sports." My pick this year is Hold Me Back, mostly because I like the meaning behind the name. It's how I feel a lot of the time when I think about what happened last year between me and some of my friends. I thought about picking I Want Revenge, but it sounded a little too vindictive. So Hold Me Back, currently 15-1, is my winner. He's being jockeyed by Kent Desormeaux, who, if I'm not mistaken, jockeyed Big Brown to victory last year.

Eighteen months. I can't believe it's been eighteen months already. It seems like I got sick just a few weeks ago still. And yet, it's been the longest eighteen months I could have possibly imagined. But one year ago I had my first night off TPN. No small step, as anyone who has ever been on TPN can tell you. And I spent my first night off TPN away from home. I'm not sure how my parents agreed to letting their son spend his first night with no I.V. driving all over northeast Ohio all night. But then again, I don't know how they could have not let me go. I had already missed out on so much, they kind of had to let me go. You only get one prom. And before you go to your prom, you think it's supposed to be the greatest night of your short life. Looking back, it's just another over-hyped stepping stone. But being the six-month anniversary of getting sick, my first night off TPN, my senior prom, and the night after my last day of high school, it was more than just prom. It was the day I realized I had grown up. The day I realized that I had become an adult nearly over-night and my friends were still kids trying to act grown-up. The day I realized how much stronger I was than everyone around me. The day I realized I had endured and overcome so much more than any of them most likely would ever have to. The day I realized that I was Ironman. And so it ended.

One year later, I can say that May 2 was indeed a turning point. Just not the turning point I had been hoping for. Everytime I reach a turning point, it's supposed to be when things start getting better. Shortly after prom, though, I contracted a blood-infection, only I didn't know it until four weeks later, graduation day. But that story will be left for the June 1 post.

Until then, you stay classy, San Diego. -IW

MLB - Medicinal League Baseball

Cytra-K: the latest supplement to be added to my regimen by my team of doctors. It is intended to increase my citrate level, if I'm not mistaken, which has a correlation to kidney stones. That is, low citrate levels are related to a higher probability of developing kidney stones. Naturally, taking this makes sense. I take 1 mL of the liquid four times daily. After three meals and before bed. It smells like cough syrup, it tastes like I imagine the water in Satan's tap tastes. It is rough. I fill the medicine cup thing two-thirds of the way up with a mixture of the medicine and cold water, and I have a glass of cold water ready to drink and the tap running. I make a toast to somebody (family, short-gutters, American soldiers, etc.) and go bottoms-up. It's probably not as bad as I make it out to be, but it is tough. And having to do it four times everyday makes it worse. But I guess I don't have much of a choice. And it's certainly better than the alternative (kidney stones).

This is just the most recent supplement called upon by my docs. Going with the baseball metaphor that I mentioned last time, that would make me the manager of the team. My doctors at the Cleveland Clinic would be the General Manager (and assistants). My mom I will call the trainer. Short-gut and SIBO are the opponents, and my supplements are the players. So here's the line-up.

1 - Loperamide, CF

2 - Tums, RF

3 - Calcium, 1B

4 - VSL#3, C

5 - Chewable Children's Multi-vitamin, DH

6 - Gas-X, SS

7 - Chromium, 2B

8 - Cytra-K, LF

9 - Glutamine, 3B

And now the justification. Loperamide (nicknamed Lope; baseball players and fans love nicknames) is the all-around best player on the team: the cornerstone, if you will. Without its bat to lead-off the game the offense never gets started (it's the first pill I take in the morning), and its amazing plays in the outfield prevent the opponent from getting any sustained rallies (it's the generic for Imodium - I don't think I need to explain what a "sustained rally" is). Tums is one of the most underrated players. When the opponent gets a liner to the right field corner Tums comes up with the big arm to gun down the runner. A Rocky Colavito-like arm puts fear into all batters attempting to stretch a single to a double or double to a triple (Tums does the trick for quick-hitting stomach aches). Tums also prevents stomach aches when I take it right after meals that may potentially cause discomfort. Loperamide gets it going, Tums moves it over.

Calcium is a solid defensive first baseman. It prevents a lot of potential kidney stones from even getting started, which is kind of a big deal. But the clean-up hitter is the one that does the most damage. VSL#3 clobbers anything thrown over the plate by the opposition (VSL#3 helped the team put up 22 runs against SIBO last weekend). And as a catcher, VSL#3 calls the perfect pitch to make the opposing batter look like a fool. Should a base runner reach safely, he wouldn't think of stealing on VSL#3's cannon arm. VSL#3's big bat is protected in the line-up by the big bat of Chewable Children's Vitamin (currently of the Spongebob variety and therefore called Spongey). Spongey does the obvious with my vitamin levels. Underrated: yes; under-appreciated: no. But it doesn't do anything on the defensive side of the game. So it's a good thing we have the DH.

Gas-X is the stopper, or the X Factor. Should the top of the line-up not do its job, Gas-X puts an end to it. Bad stomach ache: Gas-X. Can't sleep due to cramps: Gas-X. About to eat something not so good: preventative Gas-X. It gets the job done from the plate. But it's the defensive side that really puts it in the All-Star game. Gas-X stops everything hit to the left side. Gas-X is the Omar Vizquel of this team. It is followed by Chromium (called Chromesy). Chromesy is mostly on the team because we needed a second baseman. Chromesy doesn't have any noticeable merits to put it on the team, but without him, he is missed (chromium levels drop like Apollo Creed against the Russian).

Next is Cytra-K (called CK). CK just got called up from the Triple-A club. He's got a big bat and great range in left. His arm needs to gain some strength, but that won't be too noticeable in left. His bat will sit in the lower third of the line-up until he gets used to big-league pitching (or until I'm not so disgusted by its taste and it becomes just another player). Don't be surprised if CK replaces Calcium in the three-hole. Batting last is Glutamine (called Glutes). Glutes gets the job done in the hot-corner at defense, helping my system regulate itself after a couple bad days or a cold, but there isn't a lot of offensive firepower with this player.

Vitamin D (Big D) pitches. He is on a weekly rotation (I take one every Sunday). He gets my vitamin D levels up but beyond that doesn't have much effect. Percocet (Perks) has been optioned to the Triple-A squad finally. Perks was getting the job done, but with CK preventing stones, there isn't much need for him. CK's upside far outweighs the risk associated with Perks (addiction and foggy-headedness). Fiber (called Candy, however ineffective that is) and Viokase (he was never accepted by earning a nickname) are currently on the 15-day DL. I have trouble keeping them in the daily line-up. I'm hoping they will be ready to play by mid-May.

So that is my Medicinal League Baseball line-up. It currently is my best nine. But be aware that it will change soon and then will change again. Probably a third time, too. I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me, even though it was a little silly.

I had a Chem 101 mid-term yesterday. I would call it a confidence booster more than a mid-term. It was thirty multiple choice questions. That's it. Ten times easier than any Chem test I had during my sophomore year chemistry course, which Michelle is currently taking. If you need help Michelle, don't ask me, because this college class is easier than Getz's class. I have my last mid-term tomorrow morning in my Calculus course. It is going to be a killer. This post was my break from studying.

Now it's back to the grind. Wish me luck. -IW

I Have an MBA

Hello all. Yet again, I have become lazy in posting. Yet again, it is due to school. Missing seven days of class takes a lot of previously-had free-time away. I had caught up on all of my homework but still needed (and still need) to catch-up completely on the topics covered. I had a mid-term in my logic-based math course today. I think it went well, although it was difficult and took me the entire class period. Hopefully it turns out well.

I thought I'd make a comment on this post about my latest dietary supplement experiment: probiotics. Heavy duty probiotics, at that. I've been eating Activia yogurt with probiotics for a while now (low sugar, of course). But research has shown that these yogurts don't even have enough bacteria (good bacteria) to do anything against the bad intestinal bacteria. But the probiotics I'm taking have the big bats. They are like the Cleveland Indians line-up while the bad bacteria are like Chien-Ming Wang and a sorry Yankee bullpen. They are Teddy Roosevelt: quiet, but not afraid to get dirty. Everyone remembers his Big-Stick Policy ("Speak softly, and carry a big stick") with regards to foreign policy. They are like Manny Ramirez while the bad bacteria are like every pitcher ever. They are like Omar Vizquel's glove while the bad bacteria are like every ground ball hit to the left side of the infield. You get the picture.

The probiotics I am taking are VSL#3 ("The Living Shield"). Each serving, two capsules, contains 225 billion live lactic acid bacteria which act as my Microscopic Bacterial Army (MBA - I told you I had a MBA, and you didn't believe me. Now how do you feel?) fighting what my Cleveland Clinic doctors have diagnosed as Small Intestine Bacterial Overgrowth (SIBO - Also referred to as Small Bowel Bacterial Overgrowth [SBBO]). I have taken one serving each morning for the past month, and I have noticed a definite decrease in what I like to call "intestinal activity" - the grumblings and rumblings, both felt and heard, within the intestines since having my bowel resection. Less cramping at the end of the day, less class-interrupting stomach noises (re: Seinfeld's "The Voice"). That is not to say that I never feel cramping. I do. But usually I know immediately that I shouldn't have eaten what I recently ate, i.e. a large cookie, a bowl of most likely fatty soup, etc. And I do have stomach noises still. Today's mid-term was incredibly noisy thanks to Jay Junem, Dewy Denim, and Ih Liam (he's Middle-Eastern).

My doctors recommend that I take up to three servings of my MBA each day, increasing upon my one each day. Unfortunately that poses a slight fiscal problem. The bottle that the MBA comes in contains 60 capsules (30 servings). So, at one serving each day, a bottle lasts one month. The problem is that the bottle costs $50. Taking three servings each day means that I would be paying five dollars everyday for these guys. My mother has attempted to get the insurance to cover the cost to no avail.

These pills are definitely making a positive difference for me, though. And I recommend them to other SGers who may be suffering from SIBO. I'm not sure if it would be helpful to SGers without SIBO, but it couldn't hurt to bring it up to your doctors. I know that dealing with short-gut is mostly a guessing game, playing with different prescriptions and supplements in search for the perfect line-up. Like a baseball team, you don't just put your nine best on the field everyday, you have to find your best nine. Meaning you can have nine potential All-Stars on a team (re: New York Yankees) but the best teams have nine guys who sacrifice for the team and play well together (re: Tampa Bay Rays).

This is interesting. Watch out in the near future for a current prescription and supplement baseball-esque line-up. Now I'm excited to put it all together.

In response to Renee's comment on my last post: She wrote about a home-made pizza that she made. I must say, the BBQ style sounds fantastic. I have made home-made pizza as well. Strike that: my mother has made home-made pizza for me. With the ability to control fat content in the pizza, home-made is definitely the way to go. My current favorite is cheese with green peppers and onions, although it isn't the best for the breath. I've also put pepperoni on it. Cutting the pepperoni slices in fourths allows you to cover the whole pizza with just a few slices of pepperoni. For quick and easy pizza, I especially like using Italian buns instead of "pizza crust." Italian bun, covered with a layer of Ragu, some shredded cheese, maybe a little pepperoni (three or four slices would be more than enough), and a few minutes in the oven. It's fantastic.

I know it sounds odd to say, but I'm going to say it anyway: "There has never been a better time in history to have to live with the Short-Gut Diet." There, I said it. The diet, as I've said before, requires low fat and sugar content. Every super market has almost everything you could possibly want in a low fat or low sugar version. Hotdogs, salad dressing, frozen treats. And if there isn't a low fat or low sugar version (like pizza), there are low fat or low sugar ingredients to buy in order to make a home-made version. Pizza, mashed potatoes (Bob Evan's version is fantastic!), you name it. My mother has even made a Short-Gut-friendly version of cheesecake desserts. She's a genius when it comes to creating tasty recipes for her boy.

I think that's it for now. I'm going to do my very best to stop going a week between posts. I enjoy writing on the blog, so I need to make it a priority again, like it was when I first started.

Tribe came through with the comeback 5-2 victory today, improving to a record of just 6-10 though. Starting pitching, though, is looking like it is going to be a big strength on this club through the season. The bats have been dormant the last handful of games, but I still think they will have the best offense in baseball at the end of the season. The bullpen, well, it's not very good so far. Kerry Wood has been deadly to opposing batters, but beyond that, everybody has struggled. Jenson Lewis is coming around again. I say that it should be looking better soon, as long as the starters can continue to go deeper into the ball games. At the beginning of the season the bullpen was being called upon by the fourth or fifth innings. Perhaps their struggles have come because of being so over-worked to start the season. Now, they can start to relax until the seventh or eighth. Look for the Tribe to be third or higher in the central division after the Detroit series during the second weekend in May (Mother's Day).

You heard it here first. -IW