Earning my mommy badge...or....taking the child to the dentist

In our defense, let me begin by stating for the record that JR had always been good at the Dentist. Good that is, until his molar fractured and starting falling out in pieces several weeks ago.

At time I took him in immediately to see what could be done. Unfortunately, his regular dentist, a sweet, laid back kinda guy, Dr. A wasn't in that day and JR was seen by his associate. At that point our visists to the dentist took on a whole new dimensi0n. Our appt. was with Dr. G, who doesn't quite have the bedside manner or the repore with small kids (and petrified adults like me) that Dr. A is famous for, and it wasn't pretty. I will say that he was fine until they tried to take an X-ray, at which time he clamped his mouth shut and nothing - and I mean nothing - could convince him to open it... We left there with an appointment to return to see Dr. Awhen he was back from a conference. Well that day was today, and what a day it was. We already knew they would give him a oral dose of triazolam to relax him, so I was hopeful we would be successful and the visit stress-free. Not quite.
When, just like he does when we go to the Pediatrician's office, he greeted every white coat wearing adult with his list of demands (i.e. "no needles today and no finger pricks") I knew it wasn't gonna go well. Today his demand was clear and concise: "No X-rays today". That was their clue that medication WAS in his immediate future and he obliged by drinking his little of happy serum without incident. He put the headphones on for the ceiling t.v. and sat quietly for a minute, yawning occassionally while watching Dora, and again I became somewhat hopeful - until he decided sliding down the dentists chair would be fun. When the tech walked in and saw him attempting to slide while I tried to convince him it wasn't such a hot idea, she said she'd give it more time to kick in. He sat again and I prayed. He yawned twice and I was sure we were home free. Noticing his semi-comatose appearance the Tech attempted to but the apron on him for the X-ray. He wasn't having it. Argh!

"Let's give him a few more minutes" she suggested.

"Let's give him another dose of the happy serum" I thought to myself...

5 minutes later he was still refusing to wear the big apron. She said he really didn't need to . As a mother ya want to say, well perhaps, but he is old enough to recognize circumstances where he must do what is best, not what he wants or doesn't want. Feeling vulnerable, I bit my tongue and let her attempt it without the apron, all the while praying they would offer me a sedative too. Another tech came to help and thankfully, they got it! I was relieved, he was proud, and I believe I overhead the techs saying they were going to try and get the day off the next time JR had an appointment - or- maybe I just imagined it :)

The Dr. took a look at the film and decided the tooth couldn't be salvaged and we'd need to see an oral surgeon. Either I turned white instantly or he read my mind because he quickly added that "they will put him to sleep for the procedure". I figure we're done for today and I wouldn't have to stoop to begging for a relaxant myself. Wrong again. Dr. A said given his genetic/global predisposition to bad teeth, he wanted a film of the other side. JR was fine until they tried to put a "T" shaped device into his mouth for this one. Not happening. She suggested a panoramic film, that way he could just stand up while the camera circles his little face & body. He only has to bite down on a paper-thin stick while they do it. Sounds easy. So did walking down the hallway to the special room where this is done. By then JR was a just starting feel the medicine, and when the first slight stumble made someone comment that he looked really shaky, he took that as his cue - to purposely stumble, fall, trip, and bump into the walls - ALL THE WAY to the special room. Two techs and a constant reminder to keep biting down, and we had our pictures. Thank you, Jesus, for small favors! I opted to carry him back to his room this time. Good thinking on my part.Back in the room, Dr. A showed him the films. JR was impressed, and I was still hoping for some happy serum. When the Dr. explained he has 5 or six cavity specks which will require microabrasion to remove, I was really, really close to begging for some medication myself. Then I came to my senses and decided Cap could take him for those visits. Piece of cake...

JR was sliding down the chair again, and trying to keep him from breaking any appendages, and apparently my attention was diverted long enough for me to miss the part when they decided to clean his teeth while they had him there and staff still willing to assist. I also must have missed the instant where the child who loved to have his teeth cleaned morphed into a monster who hated the dentist. Once again reinforcements were called in, and ultimately they achieved their goal. They rewarded him with a bag of goodies: new funky toothbrush, toothpaste, a timer to time how long he brushes, a bag of food to feed the fish in the pond outside, and a prize from the treasure chest. He sweetly (his single "sweet' moment of the visit as far as I'm concerned) asked if he could pick one out for Harry - to which they replied "of course'.

We got halfway to the door when I realized my error, and again picked him up until we got to the chest. While he rummaged through the thousands of tiny treasures, I was given my reward: an envelope with his films to bring to our consult with the oral surgeon tomorrow and a bill. Cool, huh? "Don't worry, Mrs. Holmes, when he comes in for the microabrasion treatment, we'll give him a bigger dose - this one was clearly not enough". "I'm not worried at all" I said "I'm not the one who will be bringing him in next time" is what I thought to myself but didn't dare say out loud...

After 10 minutes of indecision over the right toys, I finally threatened to take the new timer out. He chose some super bouncy balls. One for him, one for Harry. Mercifully, we headed out the door, and like in a bad movie, at that precise moment it started to drizzle. We walked around to the back of the property to feed the fish and I thought I'd snap a few pictures of him doing what he loves to do - exploring nature. For approximately 5 seconds I let go of his hand, warning him not to move, so I could situate the films under a tree where they wouldn't get wet, and grabbed my camera from my purse - as I started to turn back around came the yell " Mrs. Holmes, you MUST hold onto him - he almost fell into the pond just now while you had your back to him". I didn't bother telling her that he was purposely falling. I didn't bother trying to explain if he did fall into the edge of the pond which is 5" deep at best, three innocuous things would happen. He'd get very wet, I'd get slightly wet up - probably up to my calves - when I plucked him out, and lastly, he'd likely think better of being such a clown next time. Instead, I thanked her for her (misguided) concern, grabbed his arm and proceeded to assist him in feeding the fish. If you're wondering how all this transpired in 10 seconds, let me explain. The pond is about 100 feet from the rear of the building and visible from ALL the exam rooms, and staff offices. Some of these rooms have doors leading to the pond - I imagine so staff has easy access to this admittedly pretty and relaxing refuge. A perk of sorts I guess. Of course I am convinced the real reason it was designed this way is so wimpy patients like me can immerse ourselves in the serenity of the view while the dentists crank up the drills and sharpen their picks...

"You can let go of me" he pleaded, "I was only fooling that I couldn't walk".

"Too late for that, bud" I replied flatly.

What I didn't tell him was that the office staff likely had the Department of Social Services on the telephone, certain that this clueless mother was about to neglect her child and cause him to drown in the man-made pond. And so, under surveillance, we didn't get any pictures of the pond for fear I'd be whisked away in handcuffs. Instead we made it quick, avoiding eye contact with any staff that remained staring through the large picture windows, and without further incident, made it to the safety of our van.

As soon as we got home (15 minutes later) I made a mad dash for pain relievers . Not for JR, for me. And now that I've had a chance to decompress, and JR has had a chance to rest and wear off any affects of the drug, we're ready for lunch and a return to the normal craziness otherwise known as life at Holmes Headquarters...