Friday, June 09, 2006

Harry's First Psychedelic Experience

You know, with Harry being 6 and all...you might be wondering what took him so long.

About 2 months ago, Harry visited the dentist for a check up. He has developed a healthy sense of fear and suspicion in pointy things. Which, is not a bad thing I suppose. So up he hopped in the dentist's chair and looked at all the equippment rather suspiciously. You know, like an abductee would scope out instruments of torture aboard the mothership. The dental hygenist came in and announced that she was going to check his teeth. This initiated a long inquisition from Harry, who luckily has a healthy sense of ownership and responsibility for his body. Would she be taking his teeth OUT? No. Will she poke him? No. Will she cut him? No...and on this exchange went, until the hygenist asked Harry to open wide, and he obliged, rather weakly. Then she took the mirror
WHATS THAT? He asked with wide-eyed terror. She explained how she was only going to look at his teeth, and she needed to use the mirror. He held it and inspected it for a few minutes and allowed her to put it in his mouth. He wrapped his lips tightly around it. There was of course more cajoling and encouragement for the "open wide" stance, which made Harry all the more suspicious and nervous. A few minutes later, out came the dental pick. He rose to a sitting position and in horror asked WHATS THAT! DONT CUT ME!!. She explained, the she was only going to count, and Harry suggested that HE do the counting without sharp instruments. The hygenist and I agreed that it would be inappropriate at this juncture to attempt a cleaning.
Enter the dentist. Harry's knees at this point are somewhere up around his ears. I think he was trembling slightly, and the dentist kindly encouraged him to open wide and low and behold located a tiny cavity in his back molar. He told me that the best method would be to use nitrous, which required referral to another dentist...but it seemed to be the most humane suggestion. I even thought he ought to throw in a nitrous treatment for me and Aidan, since it was going to be a family oriented event.

Harry had his appointment on Wednesday. He seemed okay about the whole bit, after having survived his first ordeal and second consultation visit. He bravely sat in the chair, and Aidan promptly decided that there was a gazillion "things" to play with, which meant I needed to make a hasty retreat. About 15 minutes later of attempting to entertain a very bored Aidan, in the dentists pathetic toy corner...consisting of a baby toy and pile of books, Aidan escaped and ran down the hall in search of Harry. There he lay, eyes glazed and rolling in the backs of their sockets. "He's doing fine mom, he's been telling me that he's having good dreams."

3 comments:

hotboy said...

The dentist! I asked my dentist if he'd mind seeing a friend of mine who was a phobic. Okay, he said. He might slide off the chair and lie on the floor, I said. Okay, he said. Weird job, being a dentist. Nice to see you posting again! Hotboy

hotboy said...

Just in case you want to see something really ugly ... http://www.livejournal.com/users/BarryGraham
Barry's into zen and is a very talented Scottish writer living in Chattanooga! Hotboy

robmcj said...

I remember the dentist telling me at that age that I'd have dreams of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. Nothing! What a swindle. Even now, most dentists seem to treat patients like morons. Mind you, they say dentists have the highest suicide rate.

At work, it sounds like you deserve a rest from all that extra stress and being jerked around. I was a part-timer before I got a permanent position, and I'm still getting used to the difference in the way one is treated.