At a certain point yesterday, as I lay in fetal position, I thought "The wounded after Civil War battles lay screaming, crying, or moaning. And you're not doing that. So, while your guts are filled with pain, the pain is not as bad as being shot in the guts." I try not to overstate in this blog, so I'll just call it a very intense and prolonged dull abdominal ache. This one lasted from 2:30 PM to 6:30 PM, and was at its worst from 5:00 to 6:00, after the very large and unscheduled poopie. Thus, it follows the pattern of the one on July 2. But because I did not take a vicodin, only Mylanta, the pain was much more profound. Just like the first time, on May 19, I had sweats and chills towards the end, and thought about throwing up. It started to recede at 6:09, and by 6:11 I knew It was fading. Then I sat up and wrote this. But I have a suspect, not gall stones or hand sanitizer. As I lay on the floor around 5:00 PM, I intuited that the Citrucel, heretofore my savior, was the culprit. I've been slamming two doses of it per day. The ache in my gut indicted the Citrucel. I could just tell. I have carefully read the label and it says you could take three doses daily. So the facts contradict my theory. But as usual I'm going with my gut.