A Visit to the Garzonian April 2008
by Sue Sokoff
As a mother of a child with autism, it has been an interesting journey finding the right dentist for my son. Our history with dentists has often been more a face-off than a visit. The last one asked us not to come back even though I thought having Kyle sit in my lap would help calm him. As you can imagine, having to recline with a spotlight in his face (complete with suction sounds and tiny water hoses, high-pitched drills, and a child crying in a distant room) was a sensory nightmare for Kyle! With sharp, shiny metal objects and people with green faces, it seemed more like something out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind than a dentist appointment to him. When the aliens in Sponge Bob scrubs advanced on him, Kyle was not amused with their efforts to make contact. And no matter how much I tried to soothe and explain, Kyle would have none of it. The alien leader sent us packing.
A visit to the "Garzonian" is different, however. Our pediatric dentist, Dr. Martha Garzon, is strong, patient, and willing to explain to Kyle what she is going to do before she does it. She eases him into the environment gently. You see, to Kyle, a visit to the dentist is better defined as an experience that encapsulates what he sees, hears, smells, and feels in the environment, including the people, into one event rather than processing a person or specific procedure independently.
It goes without saying that Kyle doesn't enjoy brushing his teeth or flossing, and he still cannot tolerate the plastic film that he is supposed to hold between his teeth. Sitting still for 30 seconds for the panoramic x-ray of his teeth is still beyond his capability. Dr. Garzon gave me some extra bite-down film to take home with me, and unless I can desensitize Kyle's mouth to them in the next six months, I am afraid the evolution of his permanent teeth will have to remain a mystery. Until we see how he does, Dr. Garzon remains patient. Kyle gets to pick out a toy from the toy box before leaving. And though Kyle is adamant about wanting a black bouncy ball, which is statistically improbable, they kindly wait for him to settle on the one with a black speck in it.
I can attest that once Kyle has a positive or negative experience with a person, place or thing, he never forgets it. A particular dental challenge we face is convincing him that floss is "good" when he still remembers that I once used floss to pull a loose tooth. I still don't have the heart to tell the dentist about that. Needless to say, our collection of floss is quite impressive. I think we have every color and flavor now.
Also, there is the now infamous "mask" experience, a past memory that still haunts us. In order to put sealant on Kyle's teeth to protect his enamel from severe grinding, we had to admit him as an outpatient for the short procedure. To him, we gave him "the mask," as he calls it. His anxiety was so high we had no other choice. The anesthesiologist was great with Kyle, but all he remembers is that plastic bubble fitting over his mouth and nose and how sick he was afterwards. To Kyle, dentists and masks are one in the same, so now every visit is preceded with days of reassurance that Dr. Garzon will not be using "the mask" when we see her. When he says, "No Mask!" in public, I wonder what people must be thinking.
I like museums, particularly the Smithsonian. It is a complete sensory experience. In my attempt to understand how he views the world, I see a dentist appointment for Kyle being on the same level; hence my coining our semi-annual visits a trip to the "Garzonian." It is an experience neither of us forgets.