Chronic constipation is one of the few things my parents have in common. They both down a variety of laxatives and stool softeners which sometimes do the job—but a couple of days later they’re heading back to the medicine cabinet. On average, they go through milk of magnesia at a rate of two 12-oz bottles per month, supplemented by “softening” caplets, and when all else fails, they bring in the big guns: magnesium citrate and Fleet enemas.
It’s an unpleasant reality for many elderly folk, and yet once again I find myself sighing in exasperation when, at the store, they head down the digestive aid aisle to replenish their supply. There are so many things they should be doing (or not) that could wean them from their laxative dependency, or at least reduce it.
Start with an attitude adjustment: a BM every day is not strictly necessary. For an older person, 2-3 times a week may be sufficient, but many seniors are fixated on the idea of daily evacuation. Other than that, simply increasing fiber and water intake along with more physical activity would help everything along.
Ah, but that’s where things get sticky. My dad, anyway, drinks nowhere near enough fluid, and shies away from fiber. (He’s the only person I’ve ever met who, before eating raisins, carefully inspects them one at a time, removing any vestige of stem.) As for staying active, he goes from the bed to the sofa to the bathroom and back again…only rarely venturing outside for a walk. Jeannie ranks slightly higher on the activity scale and drinks more liquid—even if that means white zinfandel and Diet 7-UP—but she’s been chugging laxatives since she was in her late 30s so is pretty much addicted.
I don’t pretend to understand their diet, but know it only makes the situation worse. Focusing heavily on dairy products (ice cream and nonfat cottage cheese by the quart each week along with a daily “light” yogurt), they eat about half the recommended daily amount of vegetables and virtually no legumes or whole grains other than occasional whole wheat bread. Usually, they opt for English muffins or sourdough. Meat every day is a given, followed by sugar free jello, or a bowl of ice cream for my dad; then Jeannie devotes her evenings to sugarless gum. How she goes through 4 packs of gum per week—each pack containing 15 sticks—is a mystery for someone to solve, if anyone actually cares to figure it out.
But it is what it is. No amount of gentle persuasion will change their habits at this point, and like most problems my parents have brought on themselves, this one is not worth arguing about. You could say I really don’t give a shit…
