We're still in diagnostics here. Monday at 6:30 am Lyman is due for a full scope.
In the interim, the nurse-practitioner suggested old-fashioned enemas. Not the cute, prebottled little squirts, but protracted hot water bottle style.
He is dreadfully embarassed, and they are momentarily uncomfortable.
Boy should get over it. I've handled worse than that. Those mothers will say, with truth, that they have.