10 August 2013

I spent most of today--from 9 am on--feeling like my liver was trying to exit my body through a nonexistent opening, and like my ribs were grabbing hard and refusing to let go.

I don't know what the real issue was. Could have been stomach irritation. Could have been that one spot in my colon that the GI doc couldn't explain last year. Could have been a dozen different things, but all I knew was that, while I didn't feel the least bit sick, I felt fairly awful because it hurt.

Not badly; it hurt just enough to be annoying and draining. I couldn't get into a comfortable position in my chair and I I tried to lie down for a bit to see if that would help, but no.

Around 9 p.m., when I was feeling pissed off about it, Max jumped into my lap. He usually does around then; he curls up and watches TV with me for a while, until it's time for his late night snack.

Tonight he didn't curl up; instead he practically crawled up my chest until I gave in and leaned back in the recliner, grumbling about watching Broadchurch off the DVR with his giant head in my way.

Funny thing Mr. Max did: he stretched out across my upper abdomen right where it hurt and purred his damn fool head off. The uncomfortable weight of him eased the more he purred, and the more he purred, the better I felt.

When Broadchurch was over (and holy crap, this is going to be good) and it was time for his snack, I felt 95% better. I still have no clue what the source of the pain was, but I know damn well what made it ease up.

Oh yeah, he got crunchy treats after his gooshy food.

And you'll never convince me that some animals just don't know.