Note: This is the first in a series of posts about The Kid’s Celiac disease diagnosis. They will all be collected under the Gluten Schmuten category tag.
The Al Dente Saturday routine is pretty formulaic. The Kid, unaware of time or space, rises between 5:45 and 6:15 a.m. with a proclamation of “Mom-my. It’s light out!” After about 5 to 10 minutes of “reading” in her crib (she has the text of nearly all of her books memorized), The Kid begins decides that she wants The Wife to join her.
This lasts about three minutes before the first potty fight of the day begins. Parents know the potty fight…the one where a full-grown, well-educated adult ends up in a full-blown “O’Reilly Factor” screaming match with a toddler about whether or not the child should go potty. It’s not a matter of whether the child has to go. Of course they have to go. It’s about who is going to win. Once The Wife wins and The Kid goes potty, they join me in our queen-sized, mangled coil, IKEA-framed bed, where the progeny spends 10 to 15 minutes reviewing photos and videos of herself on an iPhone before she is fed up with that activity.
It’s around this time that we go downstairs and I head off to procure Starbucks (for The Wife and I, though The Kid likes iced coffee) and goosants (or croissants for those who don’t know). The Kid loves croissants. It’s funny to watch a toddler pick something up that is larger than her head and devour it. She eats about as neatly as one can expect from a 2 3/4 year old, which is why the Dustbuster comes out around the same time as I get home.
On Saturday, April 13, The Kid had her last goosant.
It started sometime in January before I left for Dallas. The Kid had a case of diarrhea that would not go away. It’s not unheard of her to pick up a daycare stomach bug. She dodged the outbreak of shigella that ran through her daycare this summer, but we chalked it up to the fact that the children in The Kid’s room lick each toy three times a day to properly distribute their germs. I guess I cannot complain. At least they are learning about sharing.
By the time I went to Dallas in early February, the diarrhea had not broken and The Wife took The Kid to the doctor. There was a whole battery of tests for bacterial and viral infections. Everything came back negative, so we received a diagnosis of toddler diarrhea, which is the pediatrician equivalent of “Fucked if we know what’s wrong with your kid.”
According to Children’s Hospital Colorado, toddler diarrhea is also know as chronic nonspecific diarrhea. No one knows why it occurs, though it’s not contagious. It causes multiple mushy, odorous stools each day (think hummus, in both color and texture) with no other symptoms:
Children with CND may have over active muscles of the large intestine. Medicines which decrease muscle activity are sometimes helpful in CND. There are some similarities between CND and the Irritable Bowel Syndrome of adults, which is also thought to be caused by excessive muscle activity in the colon.
The doctor told us to cutback on acids like juice, and warned us it could go on for 6 to 8 weeks.
After eight weeks, The Kid did not show signs of getting better. Our pediatrician referred us to a pediatric gastroenterologist at our local children’s hospital.