Rob was hit with a stomach flu. After a day and a night of vomiting and diarrhea, he's eaten three crackers. I've been checking on him frequently, occasionally waking him to make sure he hasn't slipped into a diabetic coma.
Sadly, when one has diabetes, such concerns are not melodramatic.
I need a nap. So does he. First day of better intentions out the window. Tomorrow . . .