Anyways, the dentist appointment was 15 minutes long, and his teeth are all fine. I'm shocked that he hadn't worn his teeth down to little nubs, but the dentist assured me his teeth are stronger than I think they are. But no cleanings until we are cleared by a medical doctor, since he has a shunt sometimes they are required to give him an antibiotic before a cleaning and I had never heard of that before. So really I just helped the doctors hold his arms and legs down to count his teeth while he screamed bloody murder.
Between the screaming and the 2 hours of driving, I came home with a massive headache. Hubs had not originally committed to coming to the ortho visit with me the next day, but one look at my face (and maybe a little pleading) had him changing his mind.
You see, I knew the ortho appointment would be especially painful because I was guilted into accepting a 9 AM appointment time after the receptionist informed me I was about 12 months late for our follow-up. Whoops. Ugh. So this meant that I was going to have to get Little Man up and out of the house by no later than 6:30 AM, because OH WAIT if you have a 9 AM appointment you are supposed to be checked in by 8:30. Ugh ugh ugh.
Of course, the morning of the appointment there was a rainstorm and traffic that meant we didn't get to the appointment til 9:15, despite having left so early. We got there and Little Man was weighed and measured, which meant that he had to start screaming and crying immediately. They asked if maybe they could check his blood pressure and I just laughed. (My standard answer is - "You can try whatever you like, but just know that he will continue to do this until you walk away and leave him alone.) (They did not get his blood pressure.)
We waited in an exam room until the very, very old doctor came in. He said nothing, just sat at his computer for about ten minutes reading the charts. So of course... we said nothing. Hubs kept looking at me like I was going to do something magical to get the appointment started, but he's a novice at these things. I kept my mouth shut and the kid amused until the doctor finally turned to us to begin the torture...er... appointment.
He had Little Man lay on his back and then stomach, manipulating his legs and feet like he was made of rubber. Cue the screams. The exam room has a giant bed for this sort of thing, so I flopped on my belly with the DVD player and held it above Little Man's head hoping it would distract him from the man-handling his legs were getting. Hubs got the best job (ha. ha. ha.) of holding the flailing upper limbs. Then we had to take off his pants and let him run around the room while the doctor and a therapist observed his walk.
More silence and chart consulting. Of course, this was a little different kind of silence as we were busy trying to calm Little Man, who was apparently convinced that screaming til he was hoarse would mean we might leave soon.
Hubs then got to take Little Man down to x-ray for more pinning down and screaming (thanks for getting me out of that one Baby Vegas!), and I got to wait in the room with the doctor while he thought really hard and mumbled ideas to the therapist. I took this time to show them that both his hip abduction brace and his nighttime leg-brace were destroyed and he hadn't been wearing them. Because of the teeth. He ripped the metal screws out of the brace with his teeth, and then chewed up the foam and rubber. You think I'm kidding?
|Nom nom nom! Look closely for teeth marks and missing screws... :)|
There. Proof. I exaggerate not.
So after the x-ray showed that his hips had shifted thanks to whatever limited wear he'd gotten out of that brace, they decided that he would no longer have a nighttime brace for his leg. He'd wear a day brace and that would hopefully keep him from chewing it apart when I'm not looking. We shall see how that goes, but I think it is honestly the only option for him right now besides "no brace."
Unfortunately this meant we'd need to cast his leg for the new brace.
If you're picturing a 38 pound four year old with incredible leg strength screaming and twisting in absolute terror while his dad pins him down in his lap and his mother holds back his arms... you're close to imagining the casting. Just add a really strange (but very nice) man who is frantically trying to wrap quick-drying plaster onto one of the kicking legs and hold the foot flat while it set. Oh and a freaking razor when it was time to cut the cast off the still-kicking leg.
Mother of pearl, it was not a good time for any of us.
By the time we left at almost noon, Little Man had screamed himself hoarse and eaten four packs of fruit snacks as "reward" for not climbing up the walls. But it was over, and we were alive. Hubs reminded me to make sure to schedule the follow-up appointment at a reasonable hour since I was no longer wracked with guilt. Turns out, really old doctors can set their own schedules. This guy only works from 9 AM - 11 AM twice a week. *Sigh* Til next time then.
This post is dedicated to Hubs... because seriously... there is no way I would have made it through that appointment without bursting into tears if I was there by myself. Sometimes (rarely) I forget how awesome it is not to be a single parent anymore, and then crazy shit like this reminds me.
I made him some muffins the next day. Muffins are always a great way to say "Thanks for willingly going through torture for us. We love you too."