Well I have just returned from my below freezing poopie patrol of the yard. In our lovely 18 degree weather it was quite invigorating. It was also quite lovely to collect frozen poodle pucks as opposed to the warmer looser variety. Our wonderful canine is recently recovering from 4-6 months of chronic diarrhea. Yup, even my dog has gastro-intestinal issues. After many test and exams, I managed to resolve the situation with a deworming and a simplifying of his diet.
So, like the rest of my loved ones in my home my dog gets periodic abdominal pain, gas, and diarrhea. An interesting theory on my family's GI problems, was brought to my attention by my darling cousin Kik while I was in Florida.
We were on our way to the airport to pick up finance guy and the rest of my cousins who were arriving on Christmas eve. I was giving my Mom some last minute directions for the care of baby KC,
"All she needs is lunch when she gets hungry, I will be back to put her down for her nap...oh and she shouldn't poop while I'm gone, so don't worry about changing her diaper."
To which my wonderful, charming, abuses me like a brother, surprisingly still single, cousin Kik says,
"What, she only poops when she sees you, what are you like the human little brown pill..... You know I kinda feel like I gotta go now just looking at you..." (Told ya, charming).
But then I got to thinking about it. Maybe I had been making some false assumptions, perhaps even built the entire paradigm of my loved ones having celiac disease on that assumption. Yeah ok, there were positive genetic tests, but no one ever biopsied positive! Maybe it was me, maybe I was the cause of my family GI distress.
This theory needed further examination. Upon arriving at the airport, some more circumstantial evidence presented itself. Kik excused himself to go to the bathroom. Upon getting off the plane and greeting me, Finance Guy excused himself to go to the bathroom TWICE.
Looking back on my personal history made the theory only more compelling. During my hospice working years, I was frequently the social worker who would make the most progress with individuals with "constipated personalities". I also had the dubious gift for bringing the most stalwart and stoic of our clients to tears with my empathy and concern. I bet they pooped after I left too. So I have a history of softening up people emotionally and excrementally.
In hindsight I figure my abilities when working Hospice in my 20's, was due to my cuteness and joi de vivre that softened up those folks, but in my 40's I got not so much cuteness and life has beaten most of the joi out of my vivre, and still...I soften. (Told ya, compelling).
So, we had a lot of fun with the whole, Me as the little brown pill theory. It was fun to imagine for a while that the ones I love did not have chronic health issues, but were just the most recent unwitting victims of my gift. They are merely softened by my presence. A bit narcissistic true, but it feels good even now to mentally floss with the idea that it was Me, not celiac disease that is the omnipotent enigma to my family's health struggles.