It's horrible to know someone you love is suffering and there's nothing you can do about it. It's almost like physical pain.
I hope to have the energy to write a more introspective journal entry tomorrow, all about my lifelong need for solitude and the results when I don't get enough for long periods of time (such as when I'm in partial hospitalization for weeks on end), along with some interesting insights that came out of this week's appointment with my intern at CWC. Right now, though, I'm recovering from a very bad stomach ache that was just *terrible* for about 10 hours (I blame the deli hash I had at Saul's this morning with Lisa). I'm finally feeling better—only mildly ick, rather than absolutely horrible—and so I'm going to try to get some sleep. Feeling really horrible is surprisingly exhausting.
Sending good thoughts Jay's direction, in hopes that *his* "feeling really horrible" has let up a bit. I hope his inconsiderate roommate has finally turned off the television and they're both deeply asleep, unaware of any pain or discomfort ... letting sleep knit up the raveled sleeve of care, or however that quote goes.