Getting to the Hospital

Really, going to visit a doctor’s or dentist office is a piece of cake compared to taking Peter to the hospital. This is one experience I still dread when it occurs and does occur on an annual basis. You see, Peter as a child, had many ear infection, so at one point needed to have a tube put in his left ear. He also, when young, resisted and fought teeth brushing on a daily basis, so now Peter has a month full of bad teeth. Very unfortunate! He has gotten better at that…good thing, but is still suffering the consequences. So, because of this inability to lie in a dental chair and even open his month without spewing, he needed to receive teeth cleaning and filling while sedated and that meant a hospital.
The first step in this hospital experience was always just getting there. That turned out to be a major undertaking in itself. When he was little, we just carried him and held his close. But the older and bigger he became, that just was not happening. So we needed to become crafty. Early on we started giving him Valium to relax him, so we would put it in his juice and off he went. However, as he grew that nasty tasty juice was a signal that either he would be visiting a dentist or going to the hospital. Good memory! When he was in high school, we engaged the whole class in a hospital experience as the teachers had snack time, and everyone got juice, only Peter’s contained a mixture of various drugs all meant to induce a sensation of relaxation. When Peter was deemed relaxed, I who was waiting in the parking lot retrieved him and we were on our merry way to the hospital.
Peter, as he grew, starting realizing that funky juice was usually connected with a hospital experience. And, in the last two years, has refused to drink knowing what the next step will involve. Two years ago, he had a surgery scheduled complete with dental work, every immunization known to mankind, blood work, TB skin test, you name it, we included it under the anesthetic period. That morning, Peter absolutely refused to do anything. I, totally at a loss, knowing a surgical team was waiting and he needed all these good things, did not know what to do. On advise of a good friend who said…you need to do this, you cannot give in…I was really ready to cave….we called the friendly Village police who quietly came and explained to Peter he could either go in his car or ours. Peter chose my car and off he went. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Officer Friendly, Peter was not going that day. I thank the nice gentleman dearly, who took the time, was kind, and really had a big impact on our life. Peter would never gotten in the group home, had he not had all those tests under the anesthetic.
Last year, we incorporated Wilson to come with Peter and somehow that worked. However, once we get there, getting him to go in and getting him to sit in the room and wait for surgery involves many members of the hospital staff, which I will save for another time. Let’s just say…that these times were extremely trying, however, those who helped in pitched in made the difference in getting the job done.