Anthony has been sick all morning with some sort of stomach flu. I hate seeing my guy hunched over a toilet crying his little eyes out. I wish I could make him feel better and I sort of feel like a villain handing him something to drink when I know very well it won’t make him ok. When I see a bruise and it swells I know what to do, when he’s bleeding somewhere I know what to do, but when it’s a normal thing I’m completely at a loss. Besides feeding him crackers and a little gingerale all I can do is rub his back and wipe his face for him. It’s even up in the air about whther or not the doctor will be able to do anything. I dislike all this uncertainty. Mimi asked him if he was sad. He told her she shouldn’t be sad, he said she should smile as he exited the bathroom to climb back in bed.