This morning I woke up to little fists (or feet, I still can't tell the difference) pounding on my belly. Wake-up-wake-up-wake-up, she called. I rolled over, hoping to silence this internal alarm. Not to be outdone, she delivered a wallop to my left side and we began a two-step of shift, kick, shift, kick. Then my bladder joined the dance, humming its familiar tune. My stomach picked up the beat, gnawing its way to center stage. My squashed and irritable gallbladder sang a single off-key note. And soon the orchestra was in full concert inside my belly and it seemed a shame to sleep through the show.
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