We settled into our seats. We were in the last row, next to the bathroom, since our earlier flight (around 11 PM) was cancelled and they had to fit us on the next flight. Fortunately, we would only arrive 2 hours later than we'd planned. It turns out we would be very thankful for these seats later. We were in a row for three, but the third person never showed up; now we had extra room. Hubby sat next to the window, I sat in the middle seat. As we took off, I took out my book (I'm reading The Help - such a good book!) and began to read. I couldn't concentrate though. Something just wasn't right with my Hubby. He hadn't said much since we had gone throughout security earlier in the evening. I set my book down and turned to Hubby, whose body was tense and was staring mindlessly out the window. "Hey," I said softly, "are you okay? You've been pretty quiet." I reached for his hand. He sighed. "I've got a stomachache." My heart melted. "Where?,"I asked, ready to rub his tummy for him. He took my hand, already in his, and rested it on his belly button. "Lower," he whispered shakily, his cheeks turning three shades of crimson. I knew he was only embarrassed because we were in a public place and I couldn't slide my hand any lower on his belly without going inside his jeans. I kissed his cheek, took my hand off of his stomach, and opened the blanket (big enough for two) that was under my seat. After covering us both, I slipped both of my hands under the blanket and undid his jeans. He moaned as his aching belly spilled out of his pants. I gasped, assessing the damage. His stomach was crazy-bloated and I could feel all of the marks his too-tight jeans had left on him. His poor tummy was rumbling and grumbling non-stop; I could feel everything churning inside of his intestines. "Poor baby," I cooed. Hubby could only moan. I slid closer to him and gently began to rub his belly in big, soothing circles. His belly cramped up and he lunged forward, grasping his stomach. "Shhh baby," I rubbed deeper and more firmly until he could relax a bit. A moan escaped his lips. "It hurts so bad, Sally." (My name isn't Sally, but I'll call myself that). "I know, honey, I know. Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" I asked, gesturing to the air-sick bag in front of him. He shook his head no. A few minutes later, his belly gave a loud growl and rumbled like a mini earthquake inside of him. "Oh, God," he muttered, bolting out of his seat, pants undone and all (hidden under his shirt), and into the bathroom behind us, almost tripping over himself in the process. I would say he was in there for about 25 to 30 minutes. I had started to worry when he emerged and, gingerly, plopped into the aisle seat next to me, not wanting to stand with his belly ache for even a second more. The smell that had escaped the bathroom when he opened the door was quite awful. Thankfully, everyone around us (in the seats across from us and the two rows in front f us were seemingly asleep, so Hubby wasn't as embarrassed. "Sally..." he moaned. "My belly. I feel awful..." Covering both of us in the blanket again, I slid my hand back and forth and in circles along his bare stomach. To me, his tummy didn't feel much different. It was only slightly less bloated, and it was rumbling just as much as before. "Ohhhhhhh," Hubby groaned quietly, becoming a little more vocal with everyone else asleep. "Ohhh my tummy..." I moved my hand up a bit and rubbed just to the right of his belly button. "Oooooh, wow!" I had touched a tender spot and he passed some gas. "Excuse me," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Sally." Hubby knows I'm okay with it as long as it;s going to make his belly feel better, but he's always polite as ever when he burps or passes gas. "Do you have a lot of gas, hun? Is the what's bothering your tummy?" He shifted uncomfortably. "No... Not really. I mean, a little. But...no." He rested his head in the crook of my neck while I rubbed and rubbed. His intestines were starting to gurgle again, and he made another trip to the tiny airplane bathroom. He was in there a bit longer this time. When Hubby finally came back he looked weak and shaky. There was a tear stain down his left cheek. My heart broke for him. Sitting down, he asked, "Sally, do you have anything in your purse? I feel so bad and I don't think I'm done yet." The desperate 'help me' look in his eyes was too hard to watch. "I don't know, sweetie, I always keep something with me, but I think I might have packed it instead." He groaned. I dug through my purse, but I didn't find anything except for some minty gum and some water. I opened the water, which was still a little cold. "Drink this, baby, I don't want you to get dehydrated." He drank nearly half of the water before chewing on some gum. "I'm so sorry." I felt terrible; I always keep some Tums in my purse just in case. He kissed my cheek. "It's not your fault, Sally," he said quietly. I hugged him close and gently rubbed his tummy. He was able to relax just enough to snooze. We had another three and a half hours on the plane, so I hoped he would sleep for as long as possible. He woke up about an hour later to use the bathroom again. Once he was done, he took my hand and placed it so low on his tummy that I could hardly focus on the fact that he was sick. But Hubby would tense up and press my hands deep into his belly as his stomach cramped, which kept my focus a little. He fell back to sleep and only woke up once more before we landed. I wrapped one arm around Hubby's waist as we exited the plane and went to get our luggage. He was weak and really sickly-looking. He didn't feel like eating anything, so we just got another water bottle (which he drank like a fish)and headed straight for our hotel room. As soon as I closed the door to our room Hubby was pulling his shirt and jeans off. "Ohhhhhhhh," he moaned, his hands on his bloated stomach. He crawled into the bed and curled up in the fetal position. I could hear his intestines rumbling loudly. I curled up around him, spooning him, and pried his hands off of his belly to replace them with my own. "Ohhhh, Sally my stomach. Oh God. Oh Sally it hurts," he cried out. I pressed my hands into his belly and he immediately passed a lot of gas. I pressed into his belly again, which let out more gas. We did this a few more times, Hubby saying "excuse me" each time, until his poor, distended tummy softened a little. Then I gave him some Tums. It was a little after 9:30 AM and it had been more than 12 hours since either of us had eaten anything. Hubby called room service and ordered us some pancakes and dry toast. I wasn't surprised when he couldn't eat much. He relaxed back against the pillows and tried to carry a conversation, but I could tell his head wasn't in it. I finished eating and put everything outside so someone could take it away, and then I got back into bed with Hubby. I placed my hand on his tummy and rubbed gently. A soft moan escaped his lips. "Poor baby," I said softly. Soon he fell asleep. I tended to his tummy while he slept, and for the rest of the day. By the next day he felt better and we had a wonderful vacation.