The Leash

My apologies for taking nearly two weeks off since my last post. It's not like I was even doing anything important instead. I was just watching a lot of tv and such. But anyway, I'm back.

I had a few friends over last weekend. We went golfing, grilled some steaks, and had a bon fire. One of them claimed that he hadn't been to my house since my graduation party last year. My party was on June 29. So had been quite literally one year. And then I realized something, a lot of things happened that week that have not happened since.

First of all, the party was supposed to be on Saturday, June 28. It was postponed because I was in the hospital that week dealing with my second line infection that month. This is why that week was so momentous. My doctors feared I would simply continue to contract infections every few weeks, so we decided to give life a try without TPN. They took out my Hickman catheter and put in a PICC line for my antibiotics for the next few weeks. I have not had TPN since. It has been one full year since my last round of TPN. It had become such a routine during the seven months that I was on it, yet it was forgotten so easily. Every night my parents would get the pump out, pull a bag out of the refrigerator, and call me into the kitchen for my nightly calorie fix. And every morning they would wake me up to unhook everything and get ready for another day.

Those who have been on TPN or have been consistently around someone on TPN realize the rigors of this task, the mental fortitude needed to deal with being attached to a bag for 12 hours every night. I used to call it the leash. Someone would call to see if I wanted to go see a movie on a whim, and my reply would be, "Sorry, I can't. I'm on the leash." Again, unless you've been on TPN or have been consistently around someone on TPN, it's hard to comprehend the mental toughness necessary to handle such treatment. Especially when you're 18 years old. I had been in school for 13 years, waiting for this summer, and it was finally here. I was supposed to be out running around, painting the town red with my friends. Instead I was on a leash.

This also means it has been one year since my last extended hospital stay. I was at Akron City Hospital for five days, I believe. Since then I've been to E.R.'s a few times as written about previously, and I spent one night the weekend before exams, but that's it. Nothing more than one night. Anyone who has ever been a hospital over night, I'm sure, will agree that no matter what illness or medical malady you are dealing with, you will never get better in a hospital. No matter what Jada Pinkett Smith's "HawthoRNe" leads you to believe, nurses don't seem to care too much about their patients. They come in and out once every few hours to see if you need anything. If it's easy to get, they take their time getting it making sure you know just how inconvenient it is for them; if it's difficult, they wait until their shift ends and dump it on the next nurse. It's just like any other job. And in the hospital, doctors are like the cable company. O sure, they'll come by, but it will be sometime between 2 and 7:30. They come in, talk like an auctioneer using words familiar to them but foreign to you, and they move on to the next patient. Hospitals are loud, hot, and uncomfortable. The food is quite simply awful. At Akron City, they charge $7.50 for the use of the TV per patient per day. That's right. $7.50 per day to do the only thing there is to do in a hospital.

It also means it has been one year since I was not the lightest person in my immediate family. Once off of TPN permanently, the scale dropped like the Cleveland Indians' win percentage. Needless to say, my jinxing of the Freshman Fifteen did not work. But I'm home now, and I eat constantly (re: like Brad Pitt's character in Ocean's 11). And I have a little less than two months until school starts at the University of Akron, and I am officially christened a Zip.

Tomorrow, I undergo shockwave therapy to blast the large stone in my left kidney. This one has never caused me any pain, but doctors insist that it's there and needs to be removed. I'm not going to argue. I have to be at the hospital at 7 tomorrow morning. I don't even think the sun will be up that early. Ha. Shockwave therapy is when this outrageously expensive machine focuses intense sound waves at my kidney and the sounds waves (hopefully) crush the stone to dust. With any luck it will be very fine dust, because I will have to pass said dust, or gravel as my urologist calls it. I say that the machine is outrageously expensive because it is not owned by any one hospital. It travels from one hospital to another as it is needed. It probably doesn't help that it isn't need very often. But tomorrow it will be in Akron, focused at the left side of my lower back.

The good thing about this procedure is that it is non-invasive. No cutting and no inserting of objects in places where I do not want objects inserted. But I will be put under, because apparently having sound waves shot at you is a lot like getting beat up in a back alley. They say I will wake up bruised and sore with a lot of blood in the urine. So it's like I got jumped and am waking up the next morning with no recollection of the actual event.

This better work, or I'm going to have to jump my urologist in a back alley and give him a piece of my mind in the form of my sister's new bat. Ha. Just kidding. I'd use my nine-iron. Ha. Just kidding, again. I'd use my driver. Ha.

Don't mess with me. -IW

The Horror, the Horror: Stent Removal, Part II

So yesterday it was time for my stent to be removed. To refresh your memory, I had the stent put in early last week when the monster stone was obliterated. This stent, thankfully, did not have any drawstrings attached to it, so the removal needed to be done in the urologist's office.

I was called back, gave a urine sample, and was taken to the back room. This room has a small chair area for the patient. It reminded me of a birthing room. I was told to remove everything below my waist and have a seat. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?" I asked. "It won't hurt, but it certainly won't be very comfortable. Are you sure you don't want your mom back here with you? If this were happening to me, I'd definitely want someone back here with me," the nurse responded. Naturally, I came back with: "So it is going to hurt!"

I had some topical numbing cream, but it did no good. It numbed the outside of ... where they were. But they weren't sticking tools along the outside. The outside didn't hurt. What did hurt was the scope going in and coming out with the stent. The urologist asked if I had ever seen a stent after he had pulled it out. I curtly reminded him that I had one removed at home awhile back. I think he took the hint and realized how traumatizing this whole experience was. I can honestly say though that it was in fact much easier in the doctor's office than doing it at home. I had spasms again afterward, but percocet knocked them out yesterday, and they didn't return this morning.

It's funny, though; being on percocet is much more enjoyable when I don't have classes to attend, finals to prepare for, or finals to take.

One other thing: the urologist gave me a couple pills to ease the burning during urination. They have one weird side-effect though: blue urine. For some reason these pills turn your urine blue. I'm guessing most of you have never had the privilege of peeing in any color other than yellow, clear, or maybe a little red. Let me tell you, blue really freaks you out when the urination occurs. It's really weird.

On a different note, I had my orientation at the University of Akron on Tuesday. It was, in a word, fantastic. It was 100% better than Ohio State. When dealing with my academic advisor at OSU, I always felt I was more of an obligation that she wanted to deal with as quickly as possible so that she could get back to her research. At Akron, my advisor and I went through and scheduled all of my classes together right then and there. Later, an advisor in the Honors Department got hold of me and had me brought to his office. It turns out whoever was in charge of checking me in did not check "Honors" on my card, so my advisor did not schedule me for Honors classes. The Honors guy, the head Honors advisor, then rescheduled all of my classes with me. I didn't want to go back to the group and sit through a boring presentation so I asked a few extra questions, and he decided to take me on a tour of the Honors building. It was pretty great.

I know what you're thinking: "Hey man, how did this guy know you scheduled incorrectly after just a few hours?" As it turns out, he knew that one of the classes I needed was closing quickly, so he was registering me for it. Himself. Just to make sure I would get into it. The head advisor in the Honors department. How crazy is that?

It's good he caught me, too. As it turns out, Honors status gets me out of a lot of General Education classes that regular students have to take and honors students do not need to take. So my schedule is a lot better than it would have been. And my future classes are going to be a lot better than they would have been. No Intro. to Speech. No Western Civ. No Eastern Civ.

Good times, and Go Zips! -IW

No Strings Attached

So here it is. Finals week. Three gruelling tests were all that separated me from the glorious escape of summer. Ohio State was nice enough to schedule my three exams all on Wednesday (today) and Thursday of an exam week that went from Monday to Thursday. So I decided I'd go home for the long weekend so that I could focus on studying without having to worry about food or comfort so much. Ha. Comfort. Last Thursday the stone moved. Friday I was in a great deal of pain. Saturday was the same. So I decided if I was still in pain Sunday morning, the E.R. was probably in my future.

On Sunday I woke up around 7 in more pain than I have been for quite some time. Obviously, the stone couldn't wait one more week. So to the E.R. my dad and I went. A CT scan showed that the stone had indeed moved and was blocking my ureter. The urologist would have to go in and do what he accidentally did last time, only this time on purpose. But it was Sunday, and urologists take Sunday off. And it wasn't an emergency so I'd have to wait until around 5 p.m. on Monday to have the 5 minute procedure done.

I'd stay in the hospital overnight so that they could manage my pain. That night when the toridol they had given me wore off, they gave me more, only this time the pain never subsided. I went all night buzzing the nurse as soon as I was allowed another dosage of morphine. It's not as though I wasn't up already though, my poor roommate was having trouble sleeping so he watched TV ALL night. The volume on these TVs only had two settings: off and loud. So I would have been up anyway. Being in pain all night was awful, but it did make me a priority for the urologist who had me brought down to surgery around 7 in the morning.

It turns out the stone had completely lodged itself into my ureter, so they were going to go up after it again. Just like last time it fell back into the kidney, but the urologist's bendy laser tool was able to get it in range this time. I imagine it was similar to the Death Star being destroyed in Star Wars. That's right, the stone has been destroyed. Which means: I don't have to have surgery to remove it! Hooray!

Going in to the surgery, the plan was to push the stone back into the kidney if they couldn't get it and put a stent in. This I was not so excited about. When I was being prepped for surgery, one of the doctors was going over what the plan was with me. He mentioned the stent, and I stopped him and said, "The stent is not to have any strings on it. I don't want to be able to remove it myself." His response: "Did you not like that last time?" The understatement of the century.

When I went into the operating room, the urologist came over, and I told him, "This is not to be a remove-it-yourself stent." He said that he understood, and it would not be. Then the anesthesiologist went to put the mask on me. Before he did, I stopped him and announced to the entire room, "Everybody, the stent is to have no strings attached!" Most in the room chuckled and agreed.

The next thing I know, the urologist is waking me up and tells me they got the stone. Blew it into oblivion. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

It is amazing, though, how unprepared you are for final exams when you spend the entire weekend prior to them in the hospital. My calculus exam was this morning. I think it went OK. Not great, but OK. I have two more tomorrow. And then I'm done. At 6 p.m. tomorrow I should be in the car pulling out of the parking lot of 404 West 12th Avenue in Columbus and I never have to come back. I'll be on my way home - with a quick stop at Arby's of course.

-IW

"Men and Women for Others"

Tomorrow is June 1. Which means it has been a year since I graduated from high school. For those of you who don't know, I gave the commencement address at graduation. I've been told I did a bang up job on it. I don't remember graduation day as well as I would like; as we now know, I had a blood infection for which I would be admitted to the Cleveland Clinic less than 24 hours later. There is the video tape. My father and his mother both taped it. My dad, however, taped it with the same camcorder that he used to tape the day my sister first came home from the hospital, sixteen (16!) years ago. You know how on sitcoms, they do flashbacks and someone has a cell phone the size of a phone book and the audience laughs and laughs? Well, that's the purpose this camcorder serves. So my Nani also taped it with her nearly-new camera (Hi Nani!). And then at my graduation party she taped my infant twin cousins ... over my speech. And then she taped over that with a family reunion (Love you, Nani!). All in all, the video tape doesn't quite live up to what I would like. Ha.

Anyway, I'm a little upset that LeBron and those other guys lost. It's unbelievable; it's like magic or something. Ha. In place of a new topic, I thought I'd simply post a copy of my commencement address. Enjoy!

{I was introduced by Mr. Hassman. I thanked him, and then I welcomed everyone to graduation, but all of that was handwritten on the speech because I didn't think about saying anything like that until the morning of graduation. I still have the copy of the speech that I folded up and shoved in my pocket just in case, by some miracle, the copy I put on the podium was gone by the time I got up there. Ha.}

"Throughout the past four years at Walsh Jesuit High School, five words have been spoken more than any others: “Men and Women for Others.” The Walsh motto was engraved in our minds on the first day of freshman year. When you pull into the parking lot, the sign says “Men and Women for Others.” The Walsh homepage reads, “Men and Women for Others.” The Walsh Mission Statement ends, “We strive to be men and women for others.” When we hear the phrase “men and women for others,” we immediately think of acting with someone else’s interests in mind, with no regard for our own benefit. We imagine ourselves as a superhero flying through New York City stopping bad guys and saving good guys, or we are a soldier fighting the enemy to protect the innocent, or we are a regular guy helping an old lady with her groceries. In our minds, we are always the “Man” or the “Woman,” but we never imagine ourselves as being the “Other.” I had the unique experience of being the “Other.”

"While we listen to the administration urging us to be “Men and Women for Others,” we are usually daydreaming. I tended to daydream about senior year and how awesome it would be. When it finally arrived, it was everything I could have hoped for. I was having a blast with cross-country, my car was, well, at least I had a car, I had a low-paying job that I hated, and I had a great group of friends. I liked all of my teachers and had nearly zero homework on any given night. Homecoming came and went. The Indians made a run through the playoffs and lost. I finished all of my college applications.

"And then it happened. I don’t exactly know how, and I certainly don’t know why, but for whatever reason, at 12:43 am November 2, 2007 my life came crashing down all around me. I went to the hospital that Friday morning, I remember talking to my dad a little in the emergency room, and the next thing I know it’s Sunday morning, my stomach is killing me, and I’m in a hospital in Pittsburgh. Friday morning, it is believed that my small intestine wrapped itself around my mesenteric artery, cutting off its own blood supply. I had to have most of my small intestine removed. When I woke up, I had wires going in and out of my body and I was scared to death because I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next; but through all of that one thing gave me solace.

"Three of my best friends came into the ICU to say, “hey.” They heard I was going to a hospital in Pittsburgh, and they drove two hours to be there with me. Of course, they had to go home that night for school the next day, but a few days later, they came back, with another friend of mine. Not only did they come back, but they brought cards from my classmates, and a letter from my favorite teacher. Then they left. And a few days later, even more of my friends came to see me. I was in the Pittsburgh hospital for two weeks, and I never went more than three days without seeing someone from Walsh.

"When I finally went home, I still wasn’t anywhere near being strong enough to get back to school. Still, every couple of days a few people from Walsh would come over just to hang out for a few hours. We didn’t do anything special, I couldn’t do much more than watch TV, but they continued to come over, making sure I knew that I was still a part of the group.

"I ended up missing over 40 days of school, but when I came back, each and every one of my teachers showed me kindness, compassion, and understanding of my situation. I had incredible extensions, exemptions, and exceptions made for me, and I appreciated every single one so much.

"My life has been stressful since November 2. I’ve had to deal with a lot of stuff that I never thought I’d ever have to do. I’ve had most of an organ removed. I’ve been life-flighted to Pittsburgh. I’ve endured the pain of 7 different kidney stones. I’ve missed 42 days of school. I’ve had half credit taken off a homework assignment for being absent, twice. I left winter formal early because the bass was so loud it sent shivers down the scar tissue in my abdomen. I’ve had to stay home from a trip to London, England. And I still had to be ready for three AP tests this May. But through all of that there was one constant: support from the Men and Women of the Walsh community. Friends, teachers, the administration, even people I didn’t know stopped in the hall to ask how I was doing, offered to cut me some slack if I needed it, and never let me forget how happy they were I was OK. And I am OK. As soon as my surgeon saw my family and friends in the Pittsburgh waiting room, he told my parents that I would be OK. I would be normal again, thanks to the love and support I had all around me. When you’re feeling down, think about that. Think about your family and friends, think about how much they love you, think about how much they support you. And then thank them.

"In that spirit, I thank God and you, Walsh, thank you for everything. Thank you to my mom, dad, and sister, and the rest of my family. Thank you to all the teachers who empathized with the struggles of high school. Thank you Mr. Lee, Mr. Grescovich, and Senor Gaone for being so awesome. Thank you to everyone who sent cards and well-wishes. Thank you Matt, Andy, Steven, Katy, Dan, Kyle, Catherine, Maria, Metzger, Coffey, Kurtz, Brittany, and everybody else who made the trip to Pittsburgh. I’m going to miss all of you next year. I can only hope that I can find friends half as great as you all. So, thank you Walsh Jesuit. Thank you for being “Men and Women for Others.” Thank you for being “Men and Women for Me.” "

June 1, 2008.

-The Intestineless Wonder

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