One more, and in theory, the physical withdrawal will be over. The mental craving, I am told, is more or less permanent, but such is life. He's doin' really good, though, and I'm proud of him.
However, he had this coughing fit earlier that was so pronounced he gagged and...well, it wasn't pretty. I came in to the bathroom to discover a thrashing James and a number of small orange chunks on the floor.
Ursula's brain: OH DEAR SWEET BLITHERING MOTHER OF GOD, those are bits of lung tissue!
Ursula: (very calmly) "You doin' okay?"
James: "Hrghhk! Ghhhk! Fine! Hurk! Just--hork!--coughing--HORGHHGHGHK!"
Ursula's brain: CALL 911! HE'S VOMITING LUNGS!
Ursula: "Was this you or the cat?"
James: (groping for paper towels) "That was...hnnggk....me...."
Ursula's brain: AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH! He's gonna die in front of me and I can't even do CPR because he won't have any lungs!(If you can imagine the sound of a brain hyperventilating, insert it here.)
Ursula: (a moment later, after gazing at orange chunks of whatever being disposed of) "Say, these are carrot bits, aren't they?"
Ursula: "Not lung."
Ursula: "Alright, then."
Ursula's brain: Oh. Well, that's a relief.
Never a dull moment, really...