Tomorrow is the big day: Ben has an appointment with his pediatrician at which we’re going to confirm the EDS diagnosis, hopefully (she pretty much agrees, but I’m not sure she’s put it in his chart, and Mar is extremely insistent that we have it in writing, because reasons), and then we go to the pediatric dentist. She was kind of weird last time, asking why anasthetics don’t work. I don’t freakin’, know, lady, I just know it’s true. I admit I was kind of pissed that she was dismissive of my reluctance to go to the dentist. She asked something to the effect of how I feel about the dentist, and I hesitated, trying to figure out how to put my feelings into words, and she cut me off with, “Oh, so normal then.” Uh, NO, because of the aforementioned “anasthetics don’t work” issue? When I know that going to the dentist is going to result in 3 or more days of pain, both from the procedure and from the repeated and prolonged dislocation of my jaw, I would venture to guess that my attitude toward dental procedures is not at a normal level.
Anyway, I printed out a bunch of stuff for her and highlighted the relevant parts, and some abstracts that I can’t access but she probably can, and in the process I learned that EDSers tend toward high cusps and deep fissures; in other words, our teeth are shaped in such a way as to invite cavities. That was another thing that pissed me off, the way they all acted like we just let Ben have as much sugar as he wants and never brush his teeth. It’s not like he’s sitting with the sugar container and a spoon as soon as he gets home. I got the “no sugar” lecture THREE TIMES. Again with the treating me like I’m stupid, which definitely does not do anything to endear you to me.
I found it interesting that just reading about dental procedures stressed me out to the point that I was lightheaded. Gee, no, I just have “normal” anxiety about the dentist. That’s totally normal, right? I hate the dentist, and I always have. I even have trouble watching Little Shop of Horrors, and I think I might have a lingering dislike for Steve Martin because of it, even. The worst part of dealing with Ben’s dentists (both of them have been dismissive; the first one I asked him about Ben grinding his teeth to the point where it wakes me up if he’s in the same room, and he said, “No, Mom just needs to calm down.” Twice. EXCUSE ME???) is that I don’t know a. how to make a complaint, like how to word it so I don’t get dismissed again as a “hysterical female” or the equivalent, and b. if it would make any sort of difference anyway.
So I’ve decided that, in an effort to not get stressed out thinking about tomorrow, I’m going to do a Let’s Play on a Puce Moose mod that I recently discovered. I’m going to have to restart it, because as I started it, the UPS guy showed up with a new toner cartridge for the printer and I had to print a return label for my Mother’s Day gift. Quite depressing; I got a tablet and it died less than 24 hours after I got it. Hopefully I’ll get the refund soon, because I have my eye on a Lenovo tablet instead of a no-name one. Used, obviously, to get to where we can squeak by fitting it in our budget, but I almost literally drooled when I saw the specs.
I’m off to put Ben to bed and then play my mod. It’s called The Mantis Imperative, and it looks interesting.