Greetings from the Planet Morphine!

OK, so this is what I get for spending the year sick, I think. Tuesday evening, I ditched Port Oasis Fighter Practice early because I had a tummy ache. By Wednesday morning, it was a bellyache of epic proportions, plus deep pain south of there, plus a temp of 102 or so, plus being about half deranged.

Being me, instead of going to the hospital, I go to bed. Yeah, I know I know: ten points for bravery, negative 113 for brains. By about three AM Thursday morning, I can't fricking BEAR it anymore, and schlep myself down to the hospital.

The lovely doctor says, "Oh, you've ruptured your appendix, it's got to come out. NOW." Suffice it to say, I didn't take this news well. But, happy or not, there was no getting out of it, either. So I have the surgery -- only the second surgery I've ever had in my life, and my first abdominal surgery ever -- and get sent up here to where I am now to recover.

Being sick has its compensations. Apparently the hospital now provides the Internet to its patients to entertain them (and it's a DSL connection! Sweet!). And this is my first time EVER being given morphine.

Wow.

Let me reiterate: Wow.

I can understand why everybody makes such a fuss. Definitely. The morphine is what is making it possible to sit up and type this blog. Unfortunately, it's also the reason I've had to spell every word at least twice.

Somebody tell my son Adam that I'm okay? He only heard about me being sick online, and I'm worried about him.