You know how your kid does something weird and you’re all, “Should I take him to the doctor or will the doctor just laugh at me for bringing him in?”
My theory on that is that it’s usually better to be safe than sorry. What’s the worst that could happen? You lose a copay, right? What’s the best? You catch something before it becomes a problem.
My best story about an unnecessary trip to the doctor is a classic new mom story. Sam was an infant, like maybe three or four months old, when I noticed a little bump on the back of his head near his neck. Of course I called the doctor about OMG! MY TINY BABY’S BRAIN TUMOR!!!
We sat down in the pediatrician’s office, the doctor looked at Sam, and almost immediately said, “Yeah, that’s just his head.”
To his credit he didn’t make me feel dumb for bringing Sam in. But don’t worry, I felt dumb enough all by myself.
I had one of those moments on Monday. Quinn ate breakfast and then threw up. Then he threw up again shortly thereafter. Then he was fine. By itself, this was no big deal, but for the past month or so, he’s been doing this about once a week. With his history of chronic constipation (or “chronological constipation” as I accidentally called it on the phone to a friend of mine today), it seemed like something that should be checked out.
Without further ado, I bring you the triumphant return of the “poop” category to the Stimeyland blog. This category used to hold more posts than the “Alex” category. I’m happy to report that Alex is now squarely in the lead on that count, even with this entry.
Anyway, Quinn and I went in to see the doctor today. Quinn was mostly concerned that he was going to get a shot. I didn’t feel like I could totally promise him he wouldn’t see a needle because I figured there was the possibility of blood work, so he was pretty nervous. I was fine until the receptionist and the nurse practitioner that I saw both said, “A month? Wow.”
But the nurse practitioner also told Quinn there would be no needle, so he perked right the hell up as his worry transferred to me. In fact, his day got exponentially better once he heard the news that he got to pee in a cup. (Without peeing on my hand, thank goodness for small favors.)
When the nurse practitioner felt Quinn’s stomach, which even I could tell was FOS (full of
shit stool), I felt like a terrible mother. Then she tapped his stomach and was all, “Can you hear how full of gas he is too?” And I was like the mom-to-be at the 12-week ultrasound who is like, “Oh, yeah, I totally see the baby.”
No. I can’t tell that he’s full of gas. That’s why I brought him to you. But now I feel even worse.
He’s going to be okay (fingers crossed, knock on wood, wish on a star and all), but we have to go see a specialist to make sure that his little colon is operating okay. I have the feeling that there might be a lot of fiber in our future.
Quinn was also excited because he got to see the inside of his body, via an x-ray.
The x-ray tech was way cool. She let Quinn check out his picture after she took it. Later he claims that he saw his belly button on the x-ray. I don’t think that’s true. And honestly, I would have thought he would be more interested in seeing, you know, his spine, but whatever.
Quinn was less excited about the other part of the doctor’s instructions, which involved a suppository. I’ll spare you the gritty details, and fear that I’ve already said too much, but suffice it to say that even that didn’t work very well.
Hopefully we’ll go to the specialist and she’ll give us the magic words to whisper to Quinn’s colon that will make it work right. Because this poor kid has been struggling to poop since he was three months old. I’ll keep you posted. I know you really probably don’t want me to, but you know that I’m gonna.