I blog about my daughter with autism, about her life, about her art, about funny stuff she does, about good times and bad.
I thought I might start sharing some of my entries here, as an effort to raise autism awareness. Often diaries on this site about autism seem to center around vaccine issues, which is a shame, if you ask me.
This latest entry is about our visit to the dentist, always a point of anxiety for my daughter.
Visit her website to read more about Ellie, autism, or to see some of her artwork.
www.elliecastellanos.com
Ellie has been to the dentist only three times in her nine years of life. Go ahead and call Child Protective Services if you like, but ask any parent of an autistic child and they'll tell you a similar story.
I'm going to give a quick rundown of how the first two went, to put the most recent visit (yesterday) into perspective for you.
First visit: (maybe four years ago? In Sacramento)
They were patient with Ellie, and my girl was struggling mightily to keep it together. She sat in my lap and allowed them to look briefly in her mouth, and they were able to get x-rays. When they were done, she promptly started to cry those giant Ellie tears that break your heart right in half, and she wet her pants.
She had worked so hard to be a good girl during the visit that she just fell to pieces when it was finally over. You can see why we didn't go back for awhile.
Two additional notes on the first visit: I searched for someone who might sedate her, and had no luck. I don't understand why no one would do it, but what can you do.
Also, the dentist was, I'm convinced, the "Young Man Carbuncular" from The Wasteland (think back, people. It's T.S. Eliot). He had some God-awful carbuncles, man. Maybe that's what Ellie was crying about.
Second visit: (Last year, in Orange County)
Again, she allowed them to look and get x-rays. I was trying to remember yesterday if they did a cleaning, but I don't think they did. She was seriously stressed, but I gave her some extra lorazapan, so maybe that helped. In the end, she was ok with this visit. I was completely freaked out, but she seemed ok. Maybe I should have taken the lorazapan.
Third visit: (yesterday)
Imagine the clouds parting, the sunlight streaming through, and choirs of angels singing hallelujah. That pretty much summed up yesterday.
I found the dentist on the recommendation from the mom of a kid in Ellie's class. There was a TV that swung around to be right over Ellie's head. She watched Yo Gabba Gabba (The Most Bizarre Children's Show On Television) the whole time. She folded her hands nicely in her lap while the lovely dental assistant scraped and scraped her teeth.
I kept shouting out warnings of The Coming Doom:
"We're reaching our limit here! You need to go faster! She's gonna blow!"
The lovely assistant, clearly used to whack-a-doodle parents, soothingly ignored me.
"Really? Do you think so? Why don't we just get this last tooth, ok?"
They asked Ellie questions ("What color balloon do you want?"). She answered them (Pink). Let me repeat that last part. She answered them. Wow.
She wanted a lolly at the end, I told her she had to ask. She asked. She asked the lady for a lollipop! (Ok, so the request was, "Lollipop, YES." but she asked the right lady. I almost fell over.)
She had a full cleaning, an inspection and two bite-wing x-rays. She never so much as raised her voice. I thought maybe the meltdown would come after, perhaps at school. The instructional aide said, "She had a great day!"
I know what to do when things go badly. I'm fully prepared for that.
I haven't the slightest idea what to do when things go well. I'm flummoxed, I'm bewildered, I'm baffled.