On a typical afternoon in the pediatric clinic, Mrs. Johnson brought in her 4-month old daughter for a well-child examination. I went through the usual discussion of proper nutrition, safety precautions, and other matters of anticipatory guidance. As I was finishing our visit, I asked Mrs. Johnson, a first-time mother, if she had any questions. She said that she did have a concern about some constipation that her daughter had been having. I assured her that this problem was common, and I recommended a time-honored remedy in the pediatric world: diluted prune juice. I told Mrs. Johnson that a couple of ounces of prune juice diluted 1:1 with water should do the trick. Mrs. Johnson, looking somewhat skeptical, said, “But Doctor, do you think it will work?” I responded with the following story: During the internship year of my pediatric residency, my uncle Marden had invited me and my friend Ron, another medical intern, to his house for dinner. Upon arriving at his home, my uncle informed us of his plan to take us out to a wonderful Chinese restaurant. Before leaving for dinner, however, he had prepared an appetizer at home. For some unknown reason, my uncle had prepared a large serving of stewed prunes. Starving, and hence forgetful of the potency of the fruit we were about to eat, my fellow physician and I began indulging in the delicacy. The prunes were quite tasty. One after another, we consumed them. Ron even asked for the recipe. After about 20 stewed prunes each, feeling slightly bloated, we proceeded to the Chinese restaurant. On the way there, Uncle Marden described all the special dishes awaiting us—wonton soup, crispy chicken, Mongolian beef, and a unique almond pudding for dessert. We arrived at the restaurant, eagerly anticipating the first dish. The wonton soup was exactly as Marden had described it—made to perfection. We wolfed it down with passion. As we waited for the main courses to arrive, Ron and I agreed that we were actually already quite full. Knowing us to be hearty eaters, Marden was perplexed that we were full after eating merely some soup. Nevertheless, we cancelled our order and headed back home. At home, what took place made Vibrio infection look like a romp in the park. Like clockwork, every 15 minutes, the shriveled plums consumed earlier that day made their awesome power known. Somehow, these prunes created the right temperature and pressure conditions to achieve the “triple point” we studied so well in our basic chemistry courses—the point where a substance exists as solid, liquid, and gaseous forms simultaneously. At least one third of the Amazon rain forest was destroyed in order to provide the toilet paper needed that evening—the environmental impact of our dainty appetizer was astronomical. And I was not alone in my misery. Doctor Ron, in the guest bathroom, suffered the exact same fate. There we were—two physicians, victims of our own negligence. After recounting this tragic-comic adventure to the mother of my 4-month old patient, I returned to her original question. “Yes, Mrs. Johnson, the prune juice will work.”