The Torture Chair

Yesterday Imp went to the torturer dentist. It was the type of appointment that no parent wants to take their kid to, but the reality is, it was something that he brought on himself. Despite the threats of cavities, needles in his mouth, fillings and teeth rotting in his face, he continued to stubbornly refuse assistance (quite honestly, I think he found all the potential gore to be a FANTASTIC thing; he is, afterall, ALL boy); and, as threatened, he had a cavity. Actually, it was more than "a" cavity; it was SEVERAL cavities - which required several fillings over several appointments. Definitely not a proud parenting moment for me. I probably should have insisted, or forced the issue (of letting us help with teeth-brushing) a little more, but with the busy lives we lead, it's easy to get distracted as the kids run in and brush their teeth and dart out before we have the chance to get there. I also sometimes just choose to pick my battles - and at 7:00am, that isn't always the battle I want to embark on. Anyway . . . we were left with a little boy with cavities. Cavities that needed to be filled; filled by freezing the mouth; by using sharp pokey needles. IN. THE. MOUTH.

Now, *THAT* sounds like a party, doesn't it? Needles in the mouth. How the hell do you 'sell' that to an 8 year old kid? Yeah, you don't. I booked the appointments - yes, PLURAL, and headed home. While I knew that Imp needed these fillings, that he mostly brought it on by his stubbornness, and that he needed to learn his lesson, the protective Mama Bear instinct kicked into high gear, and I started to REALLY think about all this. As Mom, I KNOW that this kid can't stand needles. That he panics at the mere mention of it; and that it took FIVE adults to give him the flu shot a few weeks before (yes folks - FIVE adults - 4 adults holding him down and one to poke him in the arm). While I'm definitely no rocket scientist, I know my kid enough to know without any doubt that traditional cavity filling would NOT end well; NOT. AT. ALL. After a long night of tossing and turning, I decided that I couldn't set Imp up for that disastrous scenario, nor did I want to make the concept of going to the dentist stressful or negative in the future (because he has ALWAYS been so co-operative for that, and to me, dental care is SUPER important) so called inquiring about a pediatric dentist referral or a sedation (for ME!!). They chuckled about the sedation for me (I was kinda-sorta serious about that), but imagine my delight when they informed me that they do 'goofy gas' (nitrous whatever gas) right in the office. PERFECT!!! And who knows - I could probably cop a sniff or 2 off the gas, right?! It was to be a lengthy appointment, but I figured that since he was going to be all loopy and such that they'd just do ALL the work at the same time - you know - killing 2 birds with one stoner - I mean stone!

A few days before the appointment, I realized that I *HAD* to be in class during Imp's appointment. I was going to cancel and rebook, but my other half insisted that he could manage all this, so, I jumped for joy because I didn't have to be the bad guy for once reluctantly gave up the medical parenting torch and relinquished it to my other half for this event. As my day at school carried on, I grew more and more worried about things . . . and as if by some miracle, my class wasn't what it was expected to be, and the teacher insisted that I go and be with Imp (she has kids and she GETS the whole thing).

I met up with Imp and Daddy at the dentist office. Imp is a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of kid, so he willingly (obliviously?!) perched himself on the torture chamber dentist chair and was actually intrigued and almost exicted about the fancy equipment for the 'goofy gas'. He co-operated beautifully and eagerly - he truly made his Mama proud. As the gas kicked in, he was HYSTERICAL - smiling the goofiest grin ever; giggling hysterically; and making little comments or statements to everyone around. He kept waving his hands past his face and told the dentist in a slurred drunken voice "you look FUNNY!". They gave him the needle, and started the work - easy peasy. For the first bit, the only issue was needing to stop during some of his giggling bouts - at which we were all laughing. It was like a party in the back room of the dental office!

Then he stopped laughing.

Then he gave a thumbs down (they had instructed him to give a thumbs down if he wsan't feeling well).

Upon asking if he was OK to finish what they were working on, he nodded yes.

But then he quickly gave TWO thumbs down.

AND . . . even more quickly, puked.

And then started giggling again and gave 2 thumbs up.

As they cleaned him up, and finished what they were working on, he developed hiccups between his giggling. TOO funny! We had tons of fun pointing out to him that what he was feeling was the same as being drunk and that he better remember that for when he's a teenager and thinks he wants to drink wobbly beverages. We assured him that it's NOT cool to puke all over yourself in a state of drunkeness - and that no one else would be there to clean him up. He just laughed and giggled at us. Somehow I knew that my boy would be a sloppy, happy and funny drunk.

AND like any other sloppy, happy and funny drunk, he puked quite a bit afterwards - on the way home (complete with a good old hurl out the door on the side of the road), and in the expensive, beautiful stainless steel puking bowl. He was actually pretty miserable. I felt bad for him, but was relieved it was all over with.

BUT . . . the next day, when I went in to pick up Imp's shoes (because when you're a drunken fool being carried out, people don't think about what's on your feet), they told me that I needed to book another appointment for him; that they hadn't finished all the work. Now I had a different issue . . . he wouldn't want to go back and have that all over again - he definitely didn't like the feeling of the gas. I booked the appointment but was kinda-sorta stressing over it.

Fast-forward to the yesterday: We have this appointment. We carefully warn Imp what is going on (we need to give him notice, but only give him a few hours of notice - just enough time to wrap his head around it), and then head in. He was definitely anxious about it, and I was CERTAIN that *I* was going to need the sedation more than him. We explain to the dentist about how sick he got last time and wondered if we could just use the gas for the needle part, and then take it off. He agreed - and started the gas.

This time it wasn't so funny. Imp fought it (holding his breath, taking shallow breaths, etc), and was a bit "disagreeable" and VERY leary to agree to anything. He simply didn't want any part of it. It took a LONG time to get him 'goofy' enough to take the needle, and when they were ready to give it, he clamped his mouth shut. Uh oh. At that point I was ready to take the gas and turn it on myself, because I know Imp, and I had a bad feeling that this wasn't going to end well. BUT . . . in his altered state of mind, it didn't take much to convince him to open his mouth (I didn't even have to resort to bribery!!!). He still wasn't happy with us, the dentist the assistant - ANYONE. He glared at us all, and made it clear that he was NOT impressed. My other half and I agreed that this was probably his 'rye or whiskey' drunk (we are yet to meet anyone who is a pleasant or happy drunk when drinking rye or whiskey). The dentist turned the gas off and just had him breathing in some oxygen while he quickly went about his business in Imp's mouth. No puke, no nothing.

At the end, it warmed my heart when Imp sat up and shook the dentist's hand. That was his way of showing us that there were no hard feelings. PHEW!!! He walked out of the office with his mouth hanging open, drool falling freely, but happy to NOT be puking.

Through all that, he's become militant about dental hygiene. Ever since he found out he had these cavities about 2 months ago, he started brushing longer and harder, uses floss and mouth wash (he LOVES the Crest for kids stuff) 2x a day and allows Mom or Dad to get in there to help. While I don't like that he's had these issues (and neither does our wallet or insurance company - the total of these appointments was $1374, not to mention the cost of the diagnostic appointment and xrays), the reality is, they are baby teeth, so they'll eventually come out and his adult teeth will thank him!!! I'm glad that he's learned this lesson NOW - not later when it involves adult teeth.

Now; I wonder if the health unit offers the use of goofy gas for when he has to get flu shots next year . . .