My Gut and That's the End of It

Coupla people asked so I'll answer and I'm sorry if I'm boring the rest of you two dozen. Initially burst an intestine--sort of like a balloon growing on the intesting, probably caused by 25-years of bacteria in the Amazon--and got peritonitis. Nearly died but didn't. Saved by a great surgeon in Cuzco, Peru.
Twelve days later I took a small group of fantastic people out to the jungle. I shouldn't have, but did and wound up opening up everything so that it had to be redone. It was, but the problem is that the interior is herniated: If you look at my stomach it looks like a huge alien is trying to get out. I mean this thing sticks out by a foot from what it should.
So I'm headed to Peru in a couple of weeks to have a piece of kevlar put in there to hold things together long enough for the muscles to heal. I like these muscles. I like doing 1,000 crunches a day--about half an hour--and then a couple of sets of 50 pushups. So I'm in love with these muscles despite the fat they carry over them because of my whiskey. And I want them well. And the doc says, and I'm not sure if he's kidding or not, that with the kevlar he's putting between skin layers, I ought to be able to withstand a .22--a shot from a Saturday Night Special. Which would be great. Of course, I'll have to ask people what caliber gun they are going to shoot me with, but that's a small price to pay, I figure.
And right now baby Sierra is screaming because Madeleina took one of her dolls away from her and substituted another, so I'll have to go and try to get the crying stopped.
I'll be here till the 10 of October and will try to get done two more parts of 25 Years of Shamanism for you by then. Whew. That's a lot of work but I want to get all 10 or so parts finished before the end of the year.
Okay?