The story on the boy is that he likely has functional abdominal pain syndrome, and functional vomiting, which means there’s no real physical cause like a tumor or cancer or a disease. Instead, his nerves are responding incorrectly to stimuli. It could be that he’s too full, or gas, bloating, anything like that. Even hunger. His nerves are not processing things right and so he’s in pain and sick. There’s no silver bullet treatment, or a drug. There are a couple drugs we can try, and there’s the pain clinic. That’s the thing that’s most likely to help him.
I am exhausted. Or sick. I haven’t decided. Whatever it is, I can’t seem to want to wake up. I’m a little bit congested, so wondering if I have a cold of some sort. Or maybe it’s the stressload.
I’m making good progress on book three of Diamond City Magic. And the new book comes out in a week and I’ve done nothing for promotion. So spread the word if you like. Please? It’s a really good book. Promise.
There’s a lot going on with the kerfuffle over the Hugos. Right now, I can’t bring myself to care about them. At all. Maybe because I will likely never be a contender and so they’ve never really been front and center in my world. This year it has more to do with the fact that it takes a lot of energy to care about all the nonsense, and because I don’t have the spoons for them. I do feel sorry for those who were nominated and are caught up in this. Many are talented, deserving of winning awards, and yet they are getting maligned and celebrated and hardly know where to turn.