But at least Rebecca still has her Kool-Aid pops.

Right now I have another window open on the computer, where I'm typing up my list of stomachaches. I try to keep track of when I have stomachaches, whether I vomit and how much, what foods I ate, how bad it was, etc. The paper list has gotten too long for its sheet, so I'm putting it into WordPad. I had to add another entry last night. Yeah, remember that delicious dinner home-cooked by my grandma? It all went straight down the drain in the early hours of this morning. I have no idea when; all I remember is that it was barely light outside and I couldn't get the water in the bath hot enough to make the pain go away. (Hot baths are about the only thing good at relieving my stomachaches.)

My theory, for what it's worth, is that my stomach has lost the ability to send messages to my brain to tell me when I'm full. Take that dinner yesterday, for example. I never did get that nice, comfy feeling of fullness that you always get after you eat a big meal; I was waiting for it, and it never came. It's like instead of my brain telling me, stop, you're full while I'm eating, I get big ripping cramps (and more often than not, diarrhea and/or vomiting) later on. 

Things I will never like: Talking to my mom on the phone. It's the same everytime. She always asks questions while I give single-syllable answers, and the pauses are long and painful. She always yawns through her words, which I find rude, and at least once she always says, "Well, I don't really have too much to say..." Then why did she call? Sometimes she tries to make me feel guilty when I don't talk enough for her ("Well, I feel like I'm keeping you from something"). She better not be surprised when I don't answer the phone.