Dear Madigan,
It is now a Sunday afternoon- instead of running around shooting your dart gun, you are laying limply at my side watching Stuart Little. Since Wednesday night, you've had gastrointestinal distress. It began with vomiting, shifting to the southern regions. Since then, you have not moved other than to vomit or use the facilities. You didn't even speak until today, as it simply took too much energy. It is very sad to watch- especially being able to do nothing except hold the pot while you puke and apply cold compresses to your head. Even now, your attempts at conversation fall short, as you forget your train of thought. Thankfully, I have seen slight improvements since yesterday AND the day before that. But you still have intestinal issues and have lost weight off your already slight frame. I am simply waiting for you to feel better. You have never had any ailment for very long and at this intensity, and it's hard for us all. Even now, though, you reach for my hand. "I just want you," you said to me. You are a sweet little boy and shouldn't have to feel this way, but I believe it will make your body stronger in the end. I love you and look forward to tomorrow.
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