The Amazon Warrior Princess Versus The Tooth

I woke up before dawn yesterday, and Aaron and I quickly ate breakfast before Cordy woke up. Because of her surgery, she couldn’t eat or drink anything, so having any food in sight before we left would be a problem.

When it was time to leave, we woke Cordy up, dressed her, and got out the door quickly. She protested the entire time, saying, “I don’t want to go to the doctor! I’m too nervous! I’m apprehensive!” (Thank you, Upside-Down Show, for enriching my daughter’s vocabulary.) By the time we were in the car, she was crying, begging to go home and verging on a full meltdown. Aaron managed to get her calmed down again by the time we arrived at the hospital, and she walked to the surgery center with only minor protests.

In the waiting room, there were two other children waiting for surgery. The two started playing together, but Cordy was too distressed to join in despite our attempts to encourage her to play. After about 15 minutes, we were called back to the consultation room.

We met with the doctor who would be caring for Cordy’s teeth. He was very friendly and way too cheery for 7:30 AM. He explained the entire process while Cordy tried to become one with the wall opposite him. She wanted nothing to do with this doctor, no matter how nice he was.

After we signed the consent forms he left and the anesthesiologist came in. Cordy retreated behind my chair, refusing to come out to meet this woman. We went over Cordy’s medical history, and I mentioned her unreliable metabolism of drugs. It was about this time that Cordy poked her head out from behind the chair to tell the room, “I don’t like her!” The anesthesiologist didn’t seem fazed, but I still added, “Don’t take it personally, it’s because you’re a doctor.”

Aaron had to drag Cordy out from behind the chair so the doctor could listen to her heart, although she couldn’t see into Cordy’s mouth thanks to the unwilling (and strong) Amazon. After explaining the entire process to us, she told us it was time.

Cordy walked down the short hall with us, but as we turned into the surgery room, she saw all of the people waiting for her, and all of the equipment, and tried to pull away to make a break for it. Aaron managed to keep one hand on her, pulling her to the ground, then scooped her up in his arms as she screamed and flailed. It took three or four people (I can’t remember) to hold her down on the padded table as the anesthesiologist placed the gas mask over her face. I couldn’t hide the tears in my eyes as I saw Cordy wide-eyed in fear, her screaming muffled by the mask.

It took about 20 seconds for her to start getting drowsy, her eyes rolling around and finally closing. Aaron and I each gave her a kiss and were led out to the waiting room so they could put in an IV and breathing tube and get to work.

The entire procedure took a little over a half an hour, but it felt like hours. I had my mini laptop with me, grateful for wifi access so I could distract myself with reading blogs, Twitter, and mindless web surfing. My stomach was in knots. Some of the other parents in the room were making small talk, but I couldn’t even muster that when I knew my little girl was breathing with the help of a machine while doctors fixed her tooth. (Yeah, I know – dramatic much? Now you know where Cordy gets her dramatics.)

Eventually, the doctor appeared in the waiting room and told us that everything was done and she did well. The cavity that caused the weakness was on the back of her tooth, meaning it would have been very hard for me to see. (Ha! So much for the guilt trip I got from the other doctor!) X-rays were taken and he told us that Cordy’s other teeth looked great and we were doing a good job with them.

The tooth already had an inflammed nerve, but knowing we wanted to keep the tooth at all costs, he did a root canal and capped the tooth. He also cleaned all of her teeth and put a sealant on her other molars to protect them, and he smoothed out the chip she had on one of her front teeth. The doctor then asked if we knew that Cordy had a few wobbly baby teeth already. When we said no, he told us to expect one of her top front teeth to fall out soon! I wasn’t ready to start talking about the tooth fairy yet!

We then were taken to the recovery room. Cordy was still asleep, eyes half open and mouth hanging wide open. The nurse immediately said, “This is normal – some parents are upset to find their kids looking like this.” Looking at Cordy, I smiled and replied, “Actually, this is often how she sleeps at home. Not that different.” The poor kid had been poked four times in attempts to find an IV site. She seems to have inherited my bad veins, too.

We were asked to not touch her or try to wake her. Kids normally wake up in 20-30 minutes, and waking them up too early can make them combative. While we waited, another child was brought into the recovery room and woke up very quickly. We kept waiting while the nurse went over the discharge instructions. After a half-hour, Cordy still showed no signs of waking up, so the nurse gently called to her and moved her a little. Cordy opened her eyes, tried to sit up, then shifted to her side and tried to go back to sleep.

Aaron picked her up and held her until she was a little more alert, and then we were free to take her home. Cordy couldn’t walk – couldn’t even sit up on her own – so Aaron carried her to the car. By the time we got home, she was talking non-stop, telling us her tooth hurt (NOW her tooth hurts?) and she wanted some juice. She was still too anesthesia-drunk to walk. We put her on the couch and gave her a little juice.

The nurse told us that Cordy would likely be drowsy the entire day due to the medication, and probably wouldn’t have much of an appetite. However, about an hour after we got home she wanted to eat everything in sight, and had more than regained her balance, bouncing around the room like Tigger on speed. She was hyperactive the entire afternoon, and ate a total of four meals before bed. Typical.

The final result? Cordy now has healthy teeth, and won’t need to see the dentist for another six months. And she’s got some bling in her mouth now with a sweet silver crown:

(Ignore the PB&J leftovers around her mouth. She was an eating machine yesterday.)

Thank you for all of the good thoughts yesterday! (And for putting up with my neurotic obsessing over a little tooth.)