Tuesday, December 13, 2011

To poop or not to poop.

I'm freezing!  My crappy, ratty, flannel, over-sized, sweater, jacket thing is just not doing it for me this morning.  Neither is my coffee bowl.  There are just some mornings that nothing can keep me warm in this front study.  I'm honestly surprised that my little Zebra Finches are alive and chattering.  They're small and moving.  I'm fluffy and stationary.  I'll certainly be the first to die of frost bite. 

Last night my thirteen year old sat on the toilet and obsessed about pooping.  Sorry, I should have warned you about this before you took your first sip of coffee.

Austy obsesses about everything.  His teeth, his skin, his food.  He'll obsess about his blankets.  Lately, he's been very concerned about his bowel movements.  If he doesn't have a healthy poop in let's say, one or two days, he'll think something is wrong with him.  This all stems from a very difficult constipation issue he had about three weeks ago.  I don't blame him.  It was his first scare with this problem and it quite frankly terrified him.

You see, my sons are very healthy guys.  Outside of simple head colds, they've never been sick.  Every year I've been certain to get them flu shots and because they don't have a lot of friends they're not exposed to a lot of germs - even at school.  They've never been sick; no diarrhea, no constipation, no ear infections - nothing.  It's hard to imagine this from a parent's perspective, but it's true. So, not too long ago, Austy started cramping after dinner.  He had no idea what it was.  Up to the bathroom and onto the toilet.  First scream...

"Dude!  What's wrong?"

Austynn looked at me incredulously, terrified.  "I need to go to the hospital." 

Sweat started pouring down his face.  I could tell he was in pain.  Another scream.  Two more.  Austynn's thirteen year-old voice hadn't changed yet in pitch.  I thought I heard a couple of my Grandmother's crystal glasses break in the cabinets below.  I also looked out the door and saw my husband's face at the bottom of the stairs contort in twisted rage questioning the intensity of the screams.  My smile and my calming hand said, I've got it.  Leave the house if necessary.

"Is the poo liquid or hard?"

Screaming, "LIQUID!"  As he was bending over holding his tummy.

I didn't hear liquid pouring out of him. I didn't smell it either (my apologies for the detail this early in the morning) so I had him stand up so I could investigate.  The poor kiddo.  He couldn't even explain what was happening to him.  Yes, something had come out but he was bound up.  He was very much constipated.

Still screaming, I left him for just a moment and retreated to my bathroom to get a hot water bottle, liquid laxative, and a wash cloth.  When I returned, I dabbed off his face and body, and explained to him in full detail what was happening.  Because of Austynn's Asperger's syndrome, he understands how the digestive track works. As he held the hot water bottle against his tummy and took the laxative, he listened in amazement that he wasn't at death's door, but instead, his intestines were merely blocked and that it would take just a little while for the medicine to do it's job and clear his system out.  He also enjoyed my stories of when I was a little girl and had similar problems.  In a matter of an hour all was right again in the Potts' house.

As of last evening, if he hasn't had a healthy poop in two days, he's concerned that he needs the liquid laxative.  Do you see where this is going?  If he can't sleep, he needs a sleeping aide.  If he scratches his leg, he needs anti-bacterial ointment.  If he overhears me discussing the bone spur in my heel, he's developing one.  If he has a bug bite, it's a bee sting.  If he has a head ache, it's a migraine

My life with Austynn...never a dull moment. 

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