to his oral surgeon, because it is time for him to have his wisdom teeth extracted. For a child with severe autism, this is not an easy process. After months of finding an oral surgeon willing to work with us to create a plan for Broden, the time had finally come to meet him at his office for a consult. With my typical son, it was a piece of cake. His oral surgeon took our dental insurance. It inconvenienced our typical son for a few days, and then he was off again living his life.

For Broden, this was going to be different. This hasn’t been an easy process. Before I looked for an oral surgeon, we needed to work with the dental hygienist to get some good x-rays to get a look inside. Then, I needed to work with his BCBA (Behavioral Therapist) to get him used to drinking out of a cup, since he only drinks with a straw. Mark and I slowly introduced more water into his diet, because he mostly drinks his high calorie formula on ice, to maintain his weight. Another layer of stress was looking at his diet. What will he eat that meets the criteria for something safe for him to consume after the surgery?

After pulling him out of therapy and taking him to the oral surgeon’s office, I was handed a stack of paperwork to fill out, while we waited. After five minutes, Broden turned to me, “Mom, ready to go.” Not only am I thinking about how to care for him after surgery, and thinking about how we are going to get him prepped for the procedure, I’m also trying to figure out how I am going to fill out the paperwork for this appointment. After 30 minutes of Broden pacing around the waiting

room and asking to leave, I head up to the receptionist, “Here is my cell number. Call me when it’s Broden’s turn. Remember, he has autism. We’re going to wait in the car and listen to music until it's time.” Looking confused, she took my number, and I grabbed the book of paperwork with Broden, and headed to the car.

"It was time for Broden to have his wisdom teeth extracted. For a child with severe autism, this is not an easy process. After months of finding an oral surgeon willing to work with us to create a plan for Broden, the time had finally come to meet him at his office for a consult."

Another layer of stress was that Mark was stuck in meetings that day. I was doing this myself. I thought, “It would be helpful to have Mark here. He could be walking Broden around and keeping him entertained, while I fill out his paperwork.” I grab the paperwork and notice there isn’t an option to state that he has autism, so at the top in big letters I write, “SEVERE AUTISM!” I wrote it in angry handwriting. By that time, these individual layers of stress were getting heavier.

Finally, I received a text from the office. They were ready for us, so I promised Broden that we would be in and out very quickly. After this appointment, we would be home. He could rip his pants off and put on his “papaw pants.” All would be well with the world, and I could shed off some of this stressful weight that I was holding. By this time, an hour had passed.

After sitting in the doctor's office and listening to the oral surgeon talking to a patient next door, we finally meet him. I'm sitting in the dental chair and Broden is sitting in the corner, looking very suspicious. The oral surgeon jokes, "Mom, are we taking your teeth out!?" I wasn't in a joking mood, "No, it's for him. We've been here for over an hour. Let's get this over with, so I can take him home." He

checks his mouth and grabs a scale to weigh him, "Let's see if we can do this in the office. We might not have to go to the hospital." After the sudden change of plans, that was it. That was all the weight that I could seem to hold at that moment. After he left the room to grab Broden's x-rays, since the office couldn't seem to locate them earlier, I reached into my purse and grabbed a beta blocker and shoved it into my mouth.

Parenting a special needs child comes with stressors and sometimes, I need some help to manage, especially when there are added layers of events that unexpectedly add extra weight. The doctor came back into the room and saw my face, “I think we can do this. Let’s try to do it in the office. Are you ok?” I leaned forward in the chair, “I just took a beta blocker, so I think I can manage this plan. I’ll talk to Mark and I want to see if we can get some blood drawn for a full blood work up, since he’ll have an IV for this procedure.” He agreed to the plan and then asked, “Was the beta blocker for me or Broden?” I answered honestly, “The beta blocker was actually for you. Your change of plans for Broden’s wisdom teeth extraction, was the last thing I could deal with today, but let’s do it.”

Each experience does not happen in a vacuum. At times it's difficult to compartmentalize, especially when you are caring for a child that will most likely need care for the rest of his life. The tiramisu of crap can build and it can get heavy. The first step is recognizing it, and when it gets heavy, slow down and take a deep breath. It will still be there waiting when you can pick it up and start moving again. •

PUZZLES & CAMO

Shelly Huhtanen is an Army wife stationed at Fort Jackson, SC. She enjoys sharing her experiences of her day-to-day life caring for her son with autism. Shelly authored Giving a Voice to the Silent Many that encompasses many stories of raising a child with autism in the military. She also teaches Public Communication at the University of South Carolina and has contributed to EP Magazine for over 10 years.