We got through it. Anything that can be described like that is a victory.

The dentist was really good. Turns out his wife used to work for the doctor who did the autism evaluation, hence the referral I assume. Regardless, he was calm, skilled, listened to us, understood the situation perfectly, and best of all, was quick. Can’t beat that!

I rarely drop the word “autism” into a conversation with a stranger about our son unless the conversation is actually about that. People’s automatic prejudices about that really get to me and only serve to piss me off, and if he’s acting a bit destructively - which is rare - I don’t want to be one of those parents who makes excuses for their kids. If I’ve heard “Oh, he’s just that way; he has ADD” while their child is rampaging around the playground knocking kids down and taking stuff from them, I’ve heard it a thousand times. I don’t care if J-Man is autistic or purple; I want to have the same boundaries and rules and expectations that I hope other parents have for their own.

He jogged laps around the waiting room and entertained everyone. He did many of his usual array of things others may find quirky, but since I find them endearing, I had a great time watching him. There was a ramp into the kids’ play area that he would take a step up, change his mind, and come back down. He did this at least two dozen times. He has this thing about inclines. He’ll do steps now with some help, but put a ramp in front of him and his wires seem to get crossed sometimes. He was his usual cute self and everyone responded accordingly, with adoration of our son like they’re supposed to.

That preamble has a point. I figured they had a “special room” at the dentist’s office somewhere. The office is enormous and there’s a fairly open area with dentists’ chairs all over the place. I knew we’d have to do some wrestling with him to get this done and I’d rather not do it in public, freak him out even more, and then freak out the other kids - many of whom were very young and a couple who looked like it was their first time at the dentist and wouldn’t understand why this boy was screaming while some large adult (namely, me) was piled on top of him. So I sprinkled “autism” in a couple of places during our initial conversation with the hygienist. We got the “special room”. I usually don’t work a conversation like this, but it turned out to make life much more manageable for everyone.

The hygienist made little headway into checking his teeth so we all waited on the dentist for a few minutes. Singing and letting him explore the common area helped him calm down and pass the time. He never sits still in a new place so we let him work off some of that until the dentist was ready. He talked to us for a few minutes about concerns we had, was very understanding, knew completely what to do, and generally made us all feel better. His usual bag of tricks (e.g. show the kid the little dental mirror and let them play with it before using it) was pretty much pointless, but I appreciate the sentiment. J-Man was in the process of going over the edge at that point.

Like everything else, the winning plan is to be quick. I sat him in my lap facing me, then we tilted him back with his head into the dentist’s lap, Mary took one arm and the hygienist the other, and the dentist worked his magic. He managed to get a good visual exam in during all the commotion. Good for him. Verdict - no problems with his teeth!

He did have some staining on his upper, front teeth, mostly because all he’ll drink is iced tea. The dentist said a little pumice on the rotating brushy thing dentists use (no clue what it’s called) would clean that right up. It would take about 30 seconds. We figured we could survive anything for that long and it would look a lot better. So, we decided to do it.

Reinforcements were waiting by the exam room door (an extra hygienist if needed). I literally laid across him (useful side effect is that deep pressure helps) to hold his body and feet, everybody grabbed an arm, and 30 seconds later, voila! He got some serious crud off. Ewww. Verdict - Stain gone, everyone survived, good enough.

J-Man recovered well (which is normal for him). I held him and walked him around for a few minutes and we sang a few rounds of Old MacDonald. By the time we got to the car, he was pretty good with life again. He was pretty subdued, but an OK kind of subdued.

Some things we learned:

• Preparation is 9/10 of everything. We tried to get mentally and logistically prepared before we even got there. We planned the whole day around it, timing meals, giving him some extra chill out time, letting him watch a little extra TV, lots of loving attention, etc. Best call of the day - put the soft shoes back on in place of the big boy shoes in case he kicked because they hurt less!
• Learn from prior meltdowns and keep trying to figure out the best way to get through something like this. Fifteen progressively worse haircuts were great lessons. Still, probably a lot more we can learn.
• Skilled, understanding professionals are worth their weight in gold. They really made it as easy as they could. Again, speed is everything.
• Ask around, get referrals, ask around some more. This is going to be stressful, shopping around for the best person is worth the time. We relied on the referral of someone we trusted and it worked out well. We will definitely be going back there.

Final financial damage - $68, and see you in six months. We’ll take it!

I claim my own sensory issues. I really don’t like dentists. I’m being very diplomatic in saying that. If J-Man takes after me, the end of the world may be nigh.

So, now we have to take him to the dentist tomorrow for the first time ever. It originally took months of therapy just to get him to let us near his mouth and to eat table food of any kind, then it took us months to get him to let us into his mouth with spoons, washcloths, etc., and then it took a while to get him to put a toothbrush in his mouth. He still fights us brushing his teeth with a brush (we usually use a textured washcloth), but he will sorta brush his own teeth with one (emphasis on ’sorta’).

So, we know his teeth need cleaning. He seems to have an overbite too. Nothing good can come of this when a dentist gets involved.

Autistic kids often have problems with their teeth, primarily because it’s hard to negotiate with a kid about dental hygiene when having someone pillaging around in their mouths when they’re sensory-sensitive anyway isn’t really on their favorite activities list. It’s not like “go get your toothbrush and brush your teeth” is a practical course of action either at this point.

Here are some other things compounding the problem.

• Our dental insurance has no pediatric dentists in network. How dumb is that? So, this is out of pocket. Great.
• I fully expect him to fight to the death in the chair. Remember, this is the kid who required five people (and me of 225 lbs practically sitting on him) plus an entertainment committee and his favorite video to sort of get his hair cut. This time some stranger is going into his mouth with shiny, sharp, scary-looking instruments. You must be joking.
• Distractions are pretty much useless with him after a certain point. Once he slides past that point of no return, ain’t nothing you can do to get him back except wrestle or take him home. In really stressful situations, honestly the distractions don’t much work regardless. It’s more how long you can delay the inevitable.
• I also fully expect them to give up and say “you’ll have to come back and we’ll need to sedate him. By the way, go ahead and leave your wallet with the receptionist.”
• I personally hate dentists. This does not give off good vibes to J-Man I’m sure.
• It never gets easy watching him go through something this hard on him. It kills me every time.
• If he has cavities, I may start drinking heavily when we get home. There’s a ‘package store’ two exits before ours.

The one good thing - the doctor comes recommended by the person who did his autism evaluation. So, let’s hope for the best.

Urf. We’ll let you know…

Today I went to the doctor because I’m still tired, and not really able to concentrate, and have no stamina, and have NO initiative to either start anything or finish whatever I feebly started.

She told me to eat right, exercise, get more sleep, and take time for myself. I wanted to cry right there in the office. I asked if there couldn’t be a drug for me - she said that drugs were a short-term solution, and that I needed to look at the long-term and take better care of myself physically, or I simply wasn’t going to get better. I told her what my day consists of, and how there isn’t time for me to do all those things. She said I would have to make time. Uh huh. She suggested I hire someone to do the stuff that takes up my time, because “since you don’t do anything except work, you must have all this money sitting around.” No really, she said that.

So J-man, instead of working with you in the evenings, and instead of cooking, or doing laundry, or whatever, I’m just going to take that time for myself. Instead of paying for (I don’t know) our mortgage, and car payment, and Tim’s student loans, and therapy bills, and utilities, and groceries, I’m just going to hire someone to be my personal servant.

You’ll be pleased to know that the guide to eligible expenses that can be taken out of your flexible spending account has clarified some important social and theological issues.

Glad they cleared that up. This probably saved them from having to cover potato chips and cheesy poofs, too.

I particularly liked the theological implications of the next one.

I guess Tom Cruise didn’t yell hard enough.

All humor aside, breastfeeding supplies are not covered under flexible spending plans. We already knew this, but it still chaps our collective butts. God forbid we encourage breastfeeding even though every medical and child-oriented organization on earth recommends it. So working moms have to eat $300 plus the cost of supplies (at least, after you throw in a power supply every year and replacement parts on top of everything else) to pump milk for their kids while they’re at work even though doing so has shown that their kids will incur fewer medical expenses over time. But we’re not bitter. [end rant]

Last year’s health care spending orgy will stand another year as the fastest ever to our $2,200 deductible. J-Man’s two-day hospital visit for the norovirus vomit-fest last February assured its place in history.

That said, we’re pretty close already. We’re doing Rx roulette right now to figure out the right order to submit our prescriptions to get the least out-of-pocket costs. Once we go over the deductible, $600 medications suddenly turn into $35. Woot! (pathetic as that is…)

Thank God for flexible spending accounts. We’re essentially borrowing against future contributions into it at no interest. It’s sad that we fully expect to soak our $5,000 annual contribution to it well before the end of the year.

Next week’s autism evaluation should help that out…