Poop Quiz ...

Pop Quiz: What does a serrated spoon, a pharmacist and a semi truck all have in common? Think hard, but not too hard because the answer will be found within this simple, little story...the story of how my day started. This one most certainly goes in my "TMI" category, so read only at your own risk...

For the last two weeks, my seven year old son has had a little problem with constipation (fun blog topic, right?) About six days ago, we recognized he was having the issues and thought we needed to do something to help him pass it. First, we tried raisins. Then salad. Then lots of water. When none of those were successful, we visited the pharmacy and they gave us a handy little chalky drink called milk magnesium. According to the directions, he should have passed a bowel movement in at least six hours.

Two more days passed. Nothing. No fever. No stomach cramps. Not even the slightest inclination that he was needing to go. This morning, he woke up in a little bit of pain, which could have also been translated as being up too late last night and wanting to get out of going to school. I had him get dressed for school, with the assurance that we were going to take care of this problem. Today WAS the day.

After I dropped his sister off at school, we went to the closest pharmacy for one last consult before I opted towards going to the pediatrician. I don't know what his name was, but this pharmacist certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. He directed me to the suppository, Dulralax, and assured me that he would have a BM within 5-10 minutes.

Wonderful, I thought. I could barely wait to have this be a part of my day....Me, the parent who throws away underwear if they're soiled instead of washing them because my gag reflex is that sensitive. My, the parent who doesn't do well with any kind of medical issue. Me, the parent who...well, it's just gross. While we were walking out to the car from the pharmacy, I was showing TJ the box and telling him that I was going to have to put it up his buns to help him get his poop out.

"THE BOX?!?" he asked, in disbelief.

"No, not the whole box. Just ONE of the pills inside".

I laughed a nervous laugh and so did he.

At home, we're both kind of pacing around. He, because he doesn't want something up his rear and me, because I don't want to have to put it there. As if we were going in for our final game huddle, we both looked at each other in the eyes and without words, said "Let's do this!"

Suppository, administered. *Whew the hard part's over.

"OK, just go to the toilet when you feel like you have to go."

BUZZZZZZZZ. That pharmacist knew what he was talking about. Except, the hard part wasn't over (no pun intended). I was sitting outside the bathroom coaching him a little. He looked at me with a scared look and asked if he could shut the door for some alone time.

"Um, YES PLEASE!!! Let me know when you're done." I thought...but the parent in me said "Yes, let me know if you need help."

I went on to tell him the story of how the medicine works...There's a party in the toilet and the pill is going to go inside you to invite the poop and tell them to come out and have some fun". It seemed to lighten the mood. I'm pretty sure that's the way they teach it in Med school, too...I could be wrong.

Soon came the tears. The pain. I opened the door to his alligator tears and him crying, begging me to make it stop. I had him bend over and I begged the same thing. I literally had no idea what to do, but I knew I had to do something to help. He had a look of absolute terror in his face, his legs shaking in pain and fear. "I can't do this, Mom! I can't!"

I ran to the kitchen and got the only thing I could think of that would help get it out. A serrated spoon. I literally had to chisel away at his poop. I felt like Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption with his hammer, pecking away at the concrete for some reprieve. This went on for a good 5 minutes. Bit by bit, it started to work until finally we had a painful and drawn out successful bowel movement.

I hugged him and wiped his tears. "I'm so proud of you, buddy! SO brave!!!"

My son, being the sports nut he is, responded, "This should be on ESPN."

We laughed.

Later on, when he could recall the incident (which, in his words was "literally the worst experience of my whole life), he told me that "it was like a semi truck was coming out of a tunnel." Additionally he added, "That pharmacy guy is really good. I couldn't have done with without that medicine."

I never thought I'd write a blog about my son's pooping experience.

So now, do you know the answer to the Pop Quiz questions?

Or maybe the question should be, do you wish you DIDN'T.....