Sunday, June 15, 2008

Undone by a Goldfish Cracker

They were in the back of the car eating something. We were nearly home from a weekend on The Farm out in Colrain. I hadn't remembered packing them anything to eat, but Rich usually does most of the packing, so I assumed he'd left a snack pack of sorts within reach.

Instead, Eric had fished a year plus old bag of goldfish crackers from the back pocket on the seat in front of him.

When I turned around and saw what they were eating, I blew a gasket. Eric immediately realized his mistake and offered a tearful apology. I was furious with Rich for not cleaning out his car, I was furious with Eric for eating found food like that. He knows goldfish crackers are not safe for him. But he got lost in the moment and I make such a big deal about our house and environment being a "safe" place for him to think, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption on his part. Most of all I was just furious-helpless like everybody is when their kid does something to hurt themselves.

So now, we wait for the gluten to shred his intestines and work its way through his system. Will be tomorrow morning? I have no idea. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. There is no drug, or device to ease what is about to happen. This is the most gluten he's had since we went cold turkey almost exactly a year ago. We are so strict that wherever we go (among family), nobody eats any gluten, even if we're eating something that he doesn't like. I know this sounds insane, but whenever we go to a party where there is any, he seems to absorb it through the air. Or through a rinsed out glass of lemonade. Sure enough, just by touching things in a gluten-ful house and touching his face, he gets enough to cause yellow poop the next day. It's happened way too many times to be a coincidence.

So, we're in for some stormy weather. Last time he got gluten in any quantity, he screamed hysterically for 45 minutes over his juice box straw and passed out for four hours in the middle of the day.

So, there's a storm a brewing in his poor little digestive system. We're in for some rotten, nasty weather.

I just hope that fucking goldfish cracker was worth it. And I really wish that I could assume the pain for him. Because I'd do that in a heartbeat.


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