We’re sitting in the doctors office. All of us are crammed into a tiny room because she sees everyone at the same time and it’s easier that way. Anyway, before the doctor came in, Gavin starts squirming in his seat. He’s getting agitated and making strange faces. I asked him what was wrong and he said I don’t want to talk about it.
When Gavin says something like that, it’s a safe bet we need to know what he doesn’t want to talk about.
I took him out into the hallway, because he didn’t want to talk in front of everyone else and I can understand that. I asked him again what was wrong and he went somewhere I wasn’t expecting.
He told me his butt hurts. After going back and forth, trying to figure out what he’s talking about, I finally got him to tell me that the problem was that his rectum hurt. He used the word butthole, but I figured I would try and make it a bit more clinical.
He explained that it’s been hurting and driving him crazy. I tried to get more information but by this time, he’s crying, so we go back into the room.
Soon it’s Gavin’s turn with the doctor and he’s already worked up and on the verge of a total freak out. In the most awkward way imaginable, he told the doctor what was going on. Kudos to him for doing that, regardless of how awkwardly he did it. Those kinds of things aren’t easy to talk about. Unfortunately, we weren’t at the right kind of doctor for this to even get looked at.
By this time, Gavin’s hysterically sobbing because he says it hurts so bad. Gavin gets hysterical about things like this and it’s hard to know what’s pain vs what’s freaking him out.
We’re trying to get an idea of what’s going on and for how long it’s been going on. Turns out he’s been dealing with this for three days and just never said anything to us about it. For that matter, he never showed any signs that anything was wrong. It’s for this reason that I suspect he was more frightened than in pain. He said he was afraid he would have to go to the hospital and get an IV.
He finally told us that it started out being really ichy and that he tried everything he could think of to make it stop. The way he worded that caught my attention and I asked him what he’d tried. I was concerned he’d done something that could lead to major problems.
He answered that he’d tried lots of things. I asked him what lots of things meant but he either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.
At this point, we’re talking about running him through the ER because that’s the only way to know anything for sure. We let it go until we got into the car and headed home. As I’m walking to the car, I’m psyching myself up because I needed to have a difficult conversation with someone who can barely hold a conversation. I knew it was going to be frustrating and I just wanted to survive it without losing my cool.
As we’re driving home, I’m trying to get as much information as possible because I want to have some idea of what’s going on.
I noticed that when I asked Gavin things like how long has this been going on for or how many times a day are you pooping. Anything that required a time-frame, he simply answered by saying three. How long has this been going on? He replied three days. How many times are you pooping each day? He replied three times.