Nothing like four hours sleep in a 40-hour period to make one feel closer to 43 years old. But that’s what an angry appendix can do. One would think that a pinkie-sized organ wouldn’t be so much trouble, but there’s no rhyme or reason behind appendicitis. My son was the unlucky soul in this case. It was a sharp pain in the so-called “lower right quadrant” that hinted at something not quite right. The resulting recommendation from a call to an advice nurse at about 2330 hours pushed us out the door. We arrived at the E.R. just about midnight. (A visit complete with some mope handcuffed to a gurney.) After blood tests, some poking by the doctor, half an IV of “Lactate’s Ringers,” a UA, a visit from a surgical resident, and three and half hours the diagnosis was made. Another three hours later Chris was wheeled into the O.R. A night to remember. And oh, I did lose two pounds between Saturday morning and Sunday noon.