Free Four Waifs on Our Doorstep by Trisha Merry

a cheery grin at Caroline, while Simon sat on the end of the bed, fingering the air holes in the
hospital blanket, completely oblivious to the mayhem across the room, where Hamish and Anita had opened a cupboard and were busily taking out trays of instruments.
    ‘Put those back in the cupboard and come over here,’ I said. ‘I’ve got some biscuits in my bag.’ That did the trick.
    ‘But surely there must be something wrong with her? Something causing this constant diarrhoea? Have you looked at her notes?’
    ‘Who is her GP? Do you think she would be on our system?’
    I told him and asked him to check her notes, which I think he did, but nothing came of it.
    ‘What do they say?’ I asked in exasperation.
    ‘She’s with you on a care order, isn’t she?’
    ‘Yes, that’s right. They all are.’
    ‘Well, I’m sorry, Mrs Merry, but that means I can’t tell you what is in her notes without permission from the court.’
    After all my years of fostering, I knew he was right, but it was so frustrating not being allowed to know what might be wrong with a needy child in my care.
    ‘It will gradually get better,’ he said. But it didn’t.
    ‘I’m going to take Caroline to see Dr Ogden,’ I said to Mike a couple of weeks later. She’d been our GP for years and she had always been so good with our previous foster
children, and not averse to bending the rules if it was in the child’s interests.
    ‘Good idea. Book her an appointment and I’ll look after the others while you take her.’
    So the following day I took Caroline down to the surgery.
    ‘This child has permanent diarrhoea. Permanent,’ I said before we’d even sat down.
    ‘How often does she go to the toilet?’
    ‘All the time. As you can see, she’s still in nappies, and I’ve never changed a clean nappy on Caroline, no matter how often I change her.’
    ‘Really? Have you given us her details?’
    ‘Yes. Her name is Caroline Mackay.’
    ‘Ah yes,’ she said, picking up her records and starting to sift through. ‘Mmm,’ she said as she stopped to look at something, then leafed on. ‘There’s a lot
in here for such a young child.’
    ‘Yes, she’s had quite a few injuries I believe, and she has a speech problem, and this diarrhoea must have been going on for a while before she came to us. Does it say anything in
her notes about it?’
    I waited while the doctor continued to skim through everything, until she came to one piece of white paper, which she unfolded. It looked like a printed letter.
    ‘Here we are,’ she said, turning to give Caroline a reassuring smile. ‘Now, let me see . . .’ She read through the details in the letter, then turned to face me.
‘Well, Mrs Merry, this is dated eighteen months ago. It’s written by a consultant at the family’s local hospital and it says that Caroline was diagnosed with an impacted
bowel.’ She paused. ‘That is just what I thought when you described how continuous it is.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ I said when I heard the word ‘bowel’. ‘She’s not constipated. She’s got diarrhoea.’
    ‘Yes, that’s right. You see, what can happen if the bowel is impacted is that the acids can make a hole in the middle, so that means constant diarrhoea, like Caroline has.’
    ‘Oh, I see. Is there anything she can take to make it better, or does she need an operation?’
    ‘No, I hope it won’t come to that. I’m going to give you a prescription for her and if you follow the instructions on the label, you should see a great improvement within a few
days.’
    ‘Thank goodness,’ I sighed. ‘Thank you.’
    We went to a chemist on the way home and started her on the medicine straight away. That was a Thursday evening and we gave her three spoonfuls a day. I didn’t expect it to work
immediately, but it did seem to be improving within hours, so I was really pleased. All through Friday the diarrhoea lessened, until it was barely an occasional trickle.
    ‘It’s amazing