Wading Through Sludge

Last week, everything just felt hard.

Getting Mal to take his fiber gummies... hard. Getting Mal to brush his teeth in the morning... hard. Getting Mal to sit on the toilet a few times a day... hard. Getting Mal to go outside... hard. Keeping up with the cooking and cleaning while we're all in this space 24/7... hard. Keeping up with groceries and supplies and Amazon orders... hard. Remembering to put Miralax in everything Mal was drinking... hard.

It was just slow and heavy, and I was tired. I'm still a little tired, but I have changed things up just a tiny bit this week.

First, I ditched the fiber supplements and am looking for new ones. I ate them and they're not terrible; I'll probably finish them. They do have a "chicory root" aftertaste, but that's because... they're made out of chicory root.

Second, James has a 4-day weekend coming up, and just having something different to look forward to is helping.

Third, I am over the hump of trying to cut down on both caffeine and, mostly, caramel color (for my own reasons; you do you, love), so my personality has mostly returned, and I think I feel slightly more human than I did last week.

Now... has Mal made any progress on the gastro-internal health front? That would be a big old "not really." Somehow, even though we've had him on Miralax for a week and a half, I've given him Activia and sugar-free chocolate, he has seriously upped his fiber, and it's likely that everything in him is totally liquid now (we had a couple of eye-opening and nose-pinching incidents over the weekend that required much cleaning and erasing of memories), he WILL NOT POOP.

Today, I was trying to have him sit on the toilet every time his stomach growled. The second time, he just refused. I told him that he will never get better, never heal his muscle tone, never be able to feel when he actually needs to go, if we don't first get him empty so he can recover. He cried and told he he'd sit on the toilet tomorrow. I picked him up, as I often do, and carried him in there. But he's just over 50 pounds and my left thumb is messed up. When he struggles, it's like he weighs 150 pounds.

He was trying to run away from me, to get out of the bathroom. He was crying and complaining. I felt myself getting VERY angry, so I just sat him in the floor of the restroom and walked away. He ended up giving up, "Fine! I'll go!" and sat down. He did not go, though.

Everything I've read says not to make this kind of thing traumatizing for the child, not to get emotional, to make it fun. But it doesn't say what to do if your child is content never to go into the bathroom except to pee, and no amount of offering to read, let him play a game on his computer, chat, tell stories, play games, have a counting contest, etc. can convince him. He's already traumatized, and I'm worried that if we have to seek further, more invasive, medical intervention, it will be even worse. I'm trying to stay patient and stay the course, even as I see his distended belly and feel how rock-hard it is.

Anyway, here's Mal. He's precious. And he's a lot. I love him, and I wish I could say that I wouldn't change anything about him, but I do wish I could painlessly steamroll his abdomen and squeeze him empty like a toothpaste tube.