"I prefer to call them dried plums, thank you."
I had to haul all the kids to the Doctor again yesterday since Katrina still seemed to have some sort of infection. While we waited, Allan began screaming bloody murder and straining again. Poor guy can’t even go when he’s just eating fruits and veggies! The previous Wednesday, I had actually watched him empty his bowels like he was a tube of toothpaste. We’re talking, like two feet of poop. By Sunday, I thought Allan’s pears would help him. Monday he struggled, but hardly went.
As the pediatrician walked in, Elena, Katrina, and I were yelling, “Come on, Allan! You can do it! PUUUUUUUUUUSH!” Allan was beet-red, on the examining table, with his diaper wide-open. Without missing a beat, the doctor ran out of the room and returned with a rectal thermometer to (ahem) “help” him out a bit. We knew he wasn’t finished, but he did feel some relief, poor boy! He went a bit more in the afternoon after much struggling and yelling.
So now I have to feed Allan prunes twice a day. I gave him two containers yesterday. We might have to up the dosage soon if we don’t get results.
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