A Return to the Dentist

Last week I wrote about our first visit to a pediatric dentist. I was, as is evidenced in that post, less than impressed. I felt rushed, pressured, and frustrated. Above all, I could not believe that an office specifically keen to cater to special needs would not take simple steps that anyone working with children ought to consider.

With trepidation, therefore, we returned this week in order to fill my son’s cavities.

The difference was night and day. I went back to sit with him and no one said anything about my being there. The assistant explained everything and tried to ensure my son actually heard her. She let him hold a few instruments and explained the process. She answered his questions and did not come across as impatient at all.

When the dentist arrived to begin the numbing procedure, I immediately apologized for how dopey I’d been. You catch more flies with honey, true; but I also felt I may have been a bit short-tempered and told him so. To my surprise, he laughed and apologized in return. He said he’d been tired, due to adjusting to sleeping with a CPAP, and hadn’t realized how grumpy he was that day till later.

Mutually apologetic then, we had several good conversations throughout my son’s procedure.

The dentist was patient, happy, outgoing, receptive, and attentive. He was everything I intended to lecture -er, gently suggest. I was so happy. My laughing gas-influenced son was happy.

Heck, the dentist was happy. He’d hesitantly agreed to try filling one cavity but successfully filled three. We scheduled the more-invasive crown procedure with confidence all around.

And my son, proud of how well everyone said he’d performed, got to pick a popsicle at the store.