Oh WOW.
Today was hardcore.
Lance woke at 9am, aware about what was going to happen, but still none the wiser about WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. I felt pangs of guilt as I watched him eat his breakfast, and lift his shirt without even thinking when he heard my footsteps approach him with his injections. He woke with a 7.9mmol/L reading, which was good, but I knocked two units off the Levemir dose, as well 2 of the Novorapid. If there was one day where I didn’t mind if he was high-ish, it was today.
We arrived at the surgery at 10.30am. Whilst Lance ran straight for the PlayStation 3, I went and had a chat to the “esteem staff.” (Yes, I’m being serious, this dentist employs chirpy, shiny girls with glowing eyes and huge smiles to mentally prepare you for the blood, pain and gore you are about to experience or witness.) They informed me that the dentist was preparing the “happy gas” as we spoke, and that Lance would be calm and rested, even whilst needles were administered. Their bubbly speil fizzed over-the-top; I have to admit I found myself feeling nowhere near as ill as I did when I woke up. Oh sorry, I mean, when I got off the sofa. I was up making diet and regular jellies of all different flavours and colours at 3am. I watched Napoleon Dynamite, but even that couldn’t lift me out of my angst. However, now I felt quite peachy knowing that Lance was going to be in really good hands.
His ears pricked up when he heard his name called, and he jumped up and greeted the dentist and her assistant with a coy smile. The welcomed him and told him to make himself comfortable on the chair. I perched myself on a designer cube made out of purple leather, and slid it over towards my boy. He was given a squishy squeeze ball to kneed when he felt that things were becoming overwhelming, and then covered with a soft blanket.
A nose piece was fitted over his face. It was connected to two giant gas bottles. It was adjusted according to a number on the computer that holds all of my son’s dental history. He was told to concentrate on his breathing, chest rising, falling, rising, falling; the levels of nitrous oxide increasing with every breath. In fact, he was SO relaxed, he looked like he was there for a massage!
The next part wasn’t that great, but as Lance didn’t mind, I was okay with it too. The dentist had this super piece of technology which she gave me a brief explanation about. Instead of those giant stainless steel needles that I remember having rammed into my gum as a young girl, Lance had a “wand” with thin tubing attached to it, filtering through the “sleepy tooth juice” to the spots that needed to be numb. He didn’t make a peep! 14 injections to his gums, and one on the roof of his mouth, and nothing. I was impressed that his $20-per-minute visit was going so swimmingly!
By this stage, Lance was well and truly “happy.” He was humming songs, laughing to himself, he even turned to dentist and said, “My fridge is full of jelly-you are very welcome to come and have some with me!” She enthusiastically agreed, turning her head and mentioning that kids’ especially speak gobble-di-gook when under the influence of nitrous oxide, and don’t remember any of it when it’s out of their systems.
She then picked up a delicate instrument and literally scooped each tooth out! Within a minute, she had four small, but rather grusome looking teeth sitting in a plastic cup. Four separate gushes of blood began to flow down Lance’s chin. He had a gobful of gauze pushed into his mouth and light pressure applied on to the dents in his gum where his little teeth used to sit. The held it there for ten minutes, and then slowly turned the gas off, so that only pure oxygen was streaming through his system.
He sat up with a start and we met each others eyes. He tried to smile, then realised that his mouth was full. He gazed around the room as if he had never seen it before. The dentist then folded up a thick wad of cotton gauze and asked him to gently bite down on it. He complied, however as soon as he tried to speak, he was hush-hushed by everybody so that blood clots could form. This was going to be the most delicate part of today. Lance could have no trampoline, no rock-and-roll wrestling with Chino, just total rest, with his head above his heart. The clots had to form well so that there wasn’t anymore unexpected mass bleeds.
He was then taken to the recovery room, and I was ushered to the receptionist’s desk. She pressed a few numbers on her computer.
She looked into my eyes, her flurescent white teeth smiling sweetly, as she read out the four digit number.
(gulp.)
I handed over my card, and realised that it was the best money I could have possibly spent. (Second in line would definitely be my new Prada Handbag that grabs every girls’ attention. I picked up at the post Christmas sales for half price.)
My son was oblivious to a procedure that I, as a child, would have thrown the biggest tantrum known to man.
Even the dentist came out, and said, “Wow Kate, he is definitely, my best child patient. That procedure normally takes a good 90 minutes by the time I have talked the patient through each step, and gained their trust, but Lance had no fear, totally amazing. He got through that in 50 minutes, wow. Highlight of my week. See you in seven days for review.”
(He is always amazing at consultations. I guess because he has had so many examinations-eye tests, podiatrist examinations, circulation tests, 3 monthly blood tests, a colonoscopy to diagnose Coeliac Disease, immunisations-all since he was was old enough to remember.)
Just as I went to the recovery room to take him to the car, the dentist appeared from nowhere with a handful of gauze and a list of post-extraction instructions.
“When he gets home, be prepared for tears, because his little body will go into shock after what he just went through. He can stop having the gauze in his mouth when the bleeding ceases. Okay?”
Hmm. Okay.
We were home within minutes. I made him a bed on the sofa and put on a DVD. I gave him a light blanket and helped him with the gauze changing. I was a little alarmed at how much blood was seeping out, but now that it was mixing with saliva, I guessed it looked more dramatic than it appeared.
“Mum, I’m finished with this stuff (gauze) now.”
I explained to him that we had to leave it in until the bleeding stopped. He whimpered and grizzled.
I set up the glucometer and pricked his finger.
18.5mmol/L.
So his adrenalin had booted his blood sugar through the roof. That’s okay..he’s had less insulin too….
“Mum, can you make this numbness go away? I can’t feel my nose!” he complained. I could see what was about to happen….
” It will go away in about 2 hours, just after the DVD,” I calmly said in my smoothest voice.
He thrashed himself around on the sofa and kicked each leg like an Olympic swimmer on the home stretch.
“OH I CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE. EVER!!!!
Then the tears came. He cried and he cried. Just as he would start to settle, I would have to put in more gauze, and the tears would start all over again. I gave him a dose of Panadol. (Just so you know, Panadol, honey, and lemonade are my most loathed items on the “I’m pissed so I’ll spit it at Mum” list. Everything else is tolerable to a point.)
So I gave him another dose of Panadol, this time in a large syringe. He swallowed it and stared at me with disdain.
I pat-pat-patted and rub-rub-rubbed his back, in an attempt to soothe him. Finally, the tears stopped.
He had literally cried himself to sleep.
When he awoke, the bleeding was almost over. A pale pinkish hue stained the last piece of gauze.
“Guess what, bug? No more gauze!!” I smiled.
Then I grimaced. HYPO, and bad.
I tested, just to see what I was dealing with.
1.5mmol/L.
I shoved my glucagon kit under the sofa cushion and rushed for juice in a cup, with a straw, to avoid any gum area. Surprisingly enough, he actually drunk it. He was actually very thirsty, but I guess I would be too if I cried and ranted for two hours straight. I mixed another glass of juice with a sachet of sugar into it. He drank that down too. He looked better already.
So…that was our first experience with a complication related to Diabetes. The Dentist said she could feel his adult teeth just about to push their way through, so he won’t be gummy for long.
My next 365 photo will feature some remnants of the day.
Now I have to come up with an idea of how I can get him to start his salt-water gargles tomorrow.
ARG.
Why did the insulin die in my pancreas? 