PeterSecond of two scheduled appointments at Sick Kids this week: Jon’s filling. It started here, but today was the big day.

It was awful. The young Sick Kids team did their best, but Jon turned into a beast. I was holding down all four limbs, and the dentist had him in a semi-headlock as they needled, put in the rubber dam, drilled and filled. A TV played in the background with a favourite program: nothing doing. It wasn’t even his tantrumy screams—it was a lord-of-the-flies growl, loud and mean—as he thrashed and fought. He was a creature bent entirely on survival.

We try to put a brave face on it, joking around and trying to keep things light, but every time I’ve had to hold Jon down for one of these things (I’ve had to do it for some eye exams, and ambulatory work), I lose a little piece of me.

Once he was released—and never was the term so appropriate—Jon ignored all advice not to chew and began to gnaw on his frozen cheek. By the time we got to the elevator, blood was pouring from his mouth and back we went for gauze.

He has a big fat lip forming; it’ll be a weekend of ice and Tylenol.

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  1. Debbie says:

    So sorry to hear about the difficult time, Peter. 🙁

  2. Tami says:

    Poor Jon! Poor Peter! How absolutely traumatizing for you both! Next time, go for the anaesthesia if it’s an option!

  3. Laura says:

    He was such a wild animal that I’m not totally convinced that nitrous oxide would’ve helped much (this is the kid, after all, who after a dose of chloral hydrate spent the next hour and a half alternating between being a happy and a mean drunk, instead of nicely falling asleep for his EEG).

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