PUZZLES & CAMO

Wake Up Call

SHELLY HUHTANEN

I saw cracked molars and places on my teeth that looked like they had been hacked with a drill. I finally responded, "These teeth look like they belong to an old and tired Army wife with a child with autism. That's what these teeth look like."

Dental work is a subject that makes parents raising children with sensory issues cringe. I feel like this theme is discussed in my columns every year. After the last column about dental work with Broden, I told myself that I would never write another column about a trip to the dentist again. I felt I had explored that topic to its fullest extent and it was time to put it to rest, but there was a development this week and I could not ignore the fact that it happened.

As one might have guessed, Broden did have his first dental appointment since we moved to our new installation. I have to remind myself that years ago, I would cry in the car after his dental appointments because they were so emotionally exhausting. The dental offices were ill-equipped to work with us and they didn't know how to work with children on the spectrum. I dreaded visits to the dental office with my son to the point that Mark would take off work so he could help me. I think he was just as worried about my emotional state as he was Broden's. Last week, I told Mark I could handle his appointment alone because I knew we would be fine even though it was a new dental office. I had already visited the dental office and interviewed the dental hygienist and was explicit in what he needed. Broden knocked it out of the park. There were three staff members with us to ensure the visit was a success. They listened to me, and I'm proud to say Broden did a great job. He did such a fantastic job, there were staff members in the hallway sticking their head in the office, amazed at how well he was doing. One staff member said, "He doesn't seem to act like he has severe autism. I'm in awe." 

I'm in awe." I quickly piped back, "He does have severe autism and we didn't get this far without a lot of hard work."

As we left the appointment, I kept telling Broden how proud I was of him. He had handled the appointment so well, it seemed that the staff was actually looking forward to seeing him again. It felt surreal. Years ago, I would have never seen this as our reality. But I soon learned that all of this hard work has come with a price. 

A few days ago, it was my turn to get my teeth cleaned. I really thought I would be in and out in about 45 minutes and would have to listen to a quick lecture about how I don't floss regularly. The appointment turned sour once the dental hygienist looked into my mouth, asking "Have you felt a lot of stress and anxiety lately? Do you clinch your teeth at night? Do you have a night guard?"

Perplexed by all of these questions, I lifted my head from the dental chair and gave her a quick synopsis of my story. Looking back, I was sort of snippy, "I don't know. You tell me. I'm an Army wife with two boys, one with severe autism. Do you think I'm stressed? Do I need to give you a run down on my husband's deployments, or give you the number of hours I have spent in IEP meetings?"

She paused, stepped back and then said, "My goddaughter has severe autism so you don't need to say anymore, but I'm going to take a few pictures of your teeth and the dentist is going to take a look." I questioned what all the fuss was about. I'm just getting my teeth cleaned and I didn't have time to be finicky about some worn down teeth. Frankly, I didn't want to take the time.

After some pictures were taken and the dentist came in and told the dental hygienist some acronyms and dental terms that I didn't understand, the dentist turned around and said that I needed to come back into the office to have some work done on my teeth, "I want to take a look at your mouth guard and we need to find a way for you to be kinder on your teeth. We'll get you taken care of." As he left the room I thought, "At this rate, I'm dreading my eye appointment. Getting old sucks."

The dental hygienist seemed to understand what was going on with me more than I did. I was so used to being the caretaker, I had not realized what it was doing to me. She asked me to stay seated and said, "I want you to see your teeth. I want you to really look at them." She flashed the pictures on the screen, "What do you see?" I looked up at the screen and at first, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I saw cracked molars and places on my teeth that looked like they had been hacked with a drill. I finally responded, "These teeth look like they belong to an old and tired Army wife with a child with autism. That's what these teeth look like." I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry for me. After a few minutes of silence in the room, she reminded me to be kind to my teeth and also that I needed to care for myself. I see this appointment as a reminder. If I don't take care of myself, then I won't be able to take care of my family. All these years, I've focused on making strides with Broden and ensuring that Hayden is getting what he needs, but now I see that my body has taken a toll. The stress and anxiety that I have felt over the years and the worrying have weighed on me. I know I need to start making some changes and start focusing more on self-care. Self-care does not mean I'm selfish. Self-care means that I love my family enough to ensure that a healthy me is still around to love them. •

PUZZLES & CAMO

Shelly Huhtanen is an Army wife stationed at Fort Benning, GA who has a child with autism. She enjoys sharing her experiences of day-to-day life caring for her son with autism while serving as an Army spouse. She authored "Giving a Voice to the Silent Many" that encompasses many stories of raising a child with autism in the military. Shelly is passionate about autism advocacy for our military and works to bring awareness to our local legislators and command about providing better support for our military autism community, such as better health care and education.