Round and round.
We've done this all before.
Over and over.
I've said this all before.
You'd think I'd be out of things to say on the subject, worried all my worries away by now. But you'd be wrong.
I feel the worry build, buzzing inside me like an electric current.
KayTar's given up the Pediasure. Today is actually day 6 of the Pediasure strike. And she is largely refusing milk too, though on a good day we can get 8 ounces of milk in, but nothing is certain. And you know, there is the long standing on again off again food strike. What can I say? The girl is nothing if not committed.
On Day 1, I thought, this is odd.
On Day 2, I mentioned it casually to the pediatrician during BubTar's well check, hoping the mere mention of it would change things.
On Day 3, I started tracking her intake again.
On Day 4, I tried to figure out the caloric value of 7 french fries and one bite of lunch meat.
On Day 5, Josh and I discussed it over our anniversary dinner.
On Day 6, I wrote this post.
If you remember, Pediasure is the only thing that stands between her and something a bit more drastic. Pediasure is where she gets the majority of her calories and nutrients. Pediasure is where she gets most of her hydration. Pediasure is also where she gets her Miralax doses, without which her stool backs up in a very, very unpleasant manner.
Thankfully, she is not shunning water, although she isn't drinking it as heartily as she once drank her Pediasure. It might not be calories, but it is fluid. And we can put Miralax in it. Unfortunately, when she used to drink an entire bottle of Pediasure and get all of her Miralax in a timely fashion and exact dosage, now we never know how much she will be willing to drink and we have to put Miralax in everything, just hoping enough gets into her to keep things moving. Things came to a standstill on Day 3, but we seem to be getting things going again.
The delicate balance is just too delicate without Pediasure. With Pediasure, I trained myself not to care. To relax. Her weight was good. She was getting her calories. She was getting her fluids. She was getting her medication. Everything else was just gravy. Now everything counts. I want her to eat. I need her to eat. When she says no, I want to engage, convince her it is a good idea. This helps nothing, I know, so I don't. But my insides are screaming, JUST ONE JAR OF FOOD! PLEASE DRINK THE PEDIASURE! PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO DRINK! EAT IT! But I don't say it. If I turn it into a battle of wills, there is no question who will win. She's winning already.
I asked the pediatrician for updated nutritional requirements, so I can see just how far off the mark she is, I'll get those later this week. Based on estimations, I'd say she's getting about 1/2 of her necessary calories, maybe hitting her minimum resting expenditure on average. It's not great, but it isn't as terrible as it could be, for sure. Even so, I just can't help but think about the possibilities, about what might happen if this becomes a long term issue, about how she is still uninsured.
Josh and I talk about it like it can be fixed. Maybe if we just... How about we try... It is helpful to think things can be fixed, if we just find the right way to approach them, but in the end, after we talk it up one side and down the other, we realize...it isn't fixable. It is up to KayTar. We know this all along, of course. We just pretend not to.
Every night before bed, we give her a bottle of Pediasure, which she promptly sends back to the kitchen, "Not THIS chocolate milk. Not CHOCOLATE MILK. Not this." She calls Pediasure chocolate milk, even though it is vanilla flavored and she hates all other flavors, especially chocolate. We bring her plain milk, and she says, "Not THIS milk. Not MILK. Not this." And we bring her water. This is acceptable. And we are reminded once again that it is up to her, that is always has been up to her, and that is what makes it all so difficult.