Frederick's Trip to the Dentist

This was a day that I had been dreading for years: Frederick having to get a cavity filled. I thought diligent dental care would ensure that the day would never come but alas, no: Frederick had his 6 month check up a few weeks ago and Dr. Cocco (an odd name for a dentist, I think, and she is a self-professed candy-addict but her teeth are fantastic and she is a great dentist so there you go) pronounced, "A cavity!" Of course we tried to escape, "But it's in a baby tooth! Doesn't that mean it isn't serious? Won't it just fall out in a few months?" Apparently not. It was no minor matter: a cavity right on the top of one of his molars which he will have until he is 12 or so, which could continue to rot its way right into the incoming adult molar. No, the rot had to go. I set up the appointment for my first day of Winter break--what a way to celebrate my holiday from teaching! Dr. Cocco is, of course, well aware that Frederick has about a 15 second tolerance for bullshit--we have interviewed all the dental hygenists extensively and handchosen the one that has the privilege of working with him. Instead of scheduling 20 minutes for him, they set aside 45 minutes since every 45 seconds they have to "take a deep breath", relax and try to convince him to not bolt out the door. The thought of a deep, painful shot in the jawbone followed by minutes of a whining drill and the gag-inducing stench of rotting tooth smell...no way, I tought, is Frederick going to sit through this.

So, like all parents faced with something really important to discuss with their children, we kept this hidden from Frederick until about an hour before his bedtime the night before. Then, when he was in a really good mood, we decided to spring it on him. I put together a little pamphlet written in simple terms that I thought he would understand, outlining the main ideas of what would happen and why: the tooth has a cavity, which is a tiny hole; the dentist is going to put a mask on Frederick's face that will give Frederick medicine that makes him sleepy; while Frederick is sleepy, the dentist will patch the hole which fixes the tooth! Frederick seemed fairly happy with the explanation, the idea of cavity did not seem too alarming and the idea of dentists fixing teeth seemed vaguely plausible. Plus, we added, he got to skip school for the day and, as an extra bonus, after going to the dentist he got to spend the rest of the day with Emily! That perked him right up! So off to bed he went, happy as a clam.

Frederick was in a somber mood on the drive to the dentist, who is over an hour away in Ann Arbor (very few dentists will see autistic kids without draconian rules that we object to and Dr. Cocco is one of the very few exceptions), so perhaps the thought of patching tiny holes was weighing on his mind this morning more than it was last night. Our appointment was for 9 this morning and when we got there, they were ready for us. Frederick "eeked" nervously when he climbed into the chair, but did not object when they got the mask out for the nitrous oxide--so far reality was matching the story. Within seconds he was giggling like a fool. But then she said that he would have the task of vacuuming out the water in his mouth while she did the drilling. Wait, I interposed, won't he be too groggy? Apparently not. Nitrous oxide only relaxes, not sedates. Uh oh, I thought. It's going to take a hell of a gas to "relax" this kid once that drill gets going...

Frederick enjoyed getting told his vacuum duties and only squealed like a stuck pig when she swabbed his cheek with the cherry paste to numb it and I think that was because it tasted so terrible. He sat stiff as a board (as per instructions) when getting the shot in the gum, which amazed me and soon after came the the drilling! Like a master, Dr. Cocco, did a "count down--"1, 2, 3, 4"--then a break so he could vacuum out the saliva then another "1, 2, 3, and 4" then another vacuum. This went on 3 or 4 times and suddenly Frederick shouted, "AAAHHH!" Dr. Cocco suddenly stopped, and said, "Does that hurt?" and Frederick said, "No. All done." To which she said, "Uh...not quite. Three more times." Frederick narrowed his eyes and said, "Three more times," which very clearly meant: "And if you try a FOURTH, there will be consequences." But, true to her word, there were only three more drillings and it was done. Then the patching, which is no big deal and Frederick got to pick out a sticker (Bert, of Sesame Street, brushing his teeth which Frederick LOVED and wore on his t-shirt all day).

Despite surviving, Frederick felt a little fragile in the car on the way to Emily's and got a bit wobbly-lipped, perhaps rethinking the horror of it all. So, when we got to Emily's I made sure to tell her how brave he was to have survived the ordeal. He was a hero returning from a war. This cheered him immensely.

Frederick dramatizes this this morning's events: