Autism Watch: 2007

Update on the dentist appointment

Posted on: December 30, 2007

Phew. Done. Started at 8am, and by 8:40, dh was on the phone, updating me as he headed home. And this is big, as dh hates to talk on the phone as he’s driving. (Why aren’t there more people like that? My drive-time home could be cut in half if I didn’t have to sit behind 10-20 people a day who don’t want their call interrupted by measly green lights and turn signals.) Ds was unhappy, he’d been crying, but he was talking. Another phew. He had a roll of gauze in his mouth, preventing him from speaking too clearly and racking up drool points, but he was talking. We’d chosen to use nitrous, despite the concerns with problems with it, because the problems with general anesthesia really aren’t necessarily better. And no medication isn’t an option. He arrived home shortly afterwards, red-faced and pale at the same time, unhappy yet happy that it was over with. Bag of prizes/rewards from the dentist balled up in his hand, along with the purple nitrous nose-piece.

Apparently he had cried some during the visit, and dh spent the time trying to calm him. The dentist was wonderful as always, very attentive to ds’s needs and fears, yet hurrying through the work to get it done as fast as safely possible. Thank God for that. Not all dentists have the patience she does, and I’d recommend her in a heartbeat. (And her experience with a son on the spectrum really helps, too.) He had to deal with the nose-piece, the brace to hold his mouth open, and two strangers in his face. Bravery. He can be so easily overstimulated, yet despite it all, he gets through it.

A few hours later, hours where we’d cuddled, he’d played Wii, and we didn’t get more than three feet away from him, he decided that the ice cream we’d mentioned the day before sounded good. Off we go, the three of us, into the car. I sat in the backseat next to him, leaning into him, arm around his little neck. He cried on the way there, pain from his tooth as the numbness wore off. He cried as we ordered, as I held him up to see the ice cream choices, and he cried as we walked to the car, carrying our cups of root beer float ice cream, while daddy paid the nice man who really didn’t know ice cream from the scoop from the register, though he at least smiled throughout the cluelessness that made it take twice as long as it should have. He cried the ride home, in between bites of his ice cream, because the tooth pain increased. We gave him Tylenol meltaways, and he seemed to feel better as time went on. Today, you wouldn’t know it had happened — regression? Not like the last times! There’s more stimming going on — his left hand is flapping and sitting oddly, and he’s grabbing himself and his hair way more than usual, but he’s talking more than he’s yelling, and he isn’t obsessing with talking about the horrible visit. Many, many reasons to be thankful as we go into the New Year.

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