In my head, I imagine that it’s like fingernails raked across a 90’s chalkboard, or a metal fork scraped across a plate.

Either way, her body language spoke fear. The way her hands and face shook- extreme anxiety.

In the “typical” world, a trip to the dentist office would be a simple inconvenience.

But not if you have a child with Sensory Integration Dysfunction.

Sensory Integration involves the way a person receives input such as touch, sound, smell, and even movement and balance. If the brain has trouble interpreting this type of information, then one might have trouble with simple daily activities, such as eating or brushing teeth.

My daughter Tayler has diagnosis of Down Syndrome and is considered non-verbal. She has had difficulty with sensory integration since birth, and her sensory-seeking behavior has been sometimes difficult for her.

I had no clue, however, that our dentist was prepared.

Since Tayler was born, her sensory difficulties have included grinding her teeth when anxious, frequent body movements, aversion to hair washing (a HUGE battle which most often leads to tears and screaming), and most recently large crowds and noisy areas. I can see the pain and anguish on her face. Since she is unable to express her thoughts verbally, I use my mother’s intuition and her body language to guess how she is feeling. I often see frustration mixed with pain.

I hurt for her sometimes. Today was an unforeseen struggle, but Dr. Ralph Nixon was ready.

I’m not sure what the scientific term was for his technique, but my guess is they didn’t teach his technique in dental school.

As Tayler and I walked into the room, Tayler sat in an orange chair. The room appeared as any other typical dentist office, full of tools and gadgets. Dr. Nixon, his nurses, and I spoke quietly and discussed the possibility of panoramic x-rays.

My decision was a “No”, because it requires one to be completely still, and I knew that Tayler already showed signs of feeling stressed.

After our discussion, I gently attempted to help Tayler lie on the exam table.

Today- she refused.

I tried to persuade her, “Ok Tayler- it’s your turn. It won’t take long”, I explained.

She pulled her arm away and dropped down to the floor.

We have visited Dr. Nixon for years, but I guess today in teenage-fashion, she decided to exert her independence. I tried my best to pick her up, but at 100+ pounds, it was impossible for me. Dr. Nixon then tried to assist, but Tayler refused again.

So like any sensitive, intelligent, empathetic human being- Dr. Nixon decided to track and adjust.

He walked over to Tayler and sat beside her on the cold ceramic floor to talk to her. He asked Tayler if she was ok, gave her several pats on the back, and explained that we needed to check her teeth. He seemed to sense her difficulty and fear of the exam, and gently praised both of us for her dental health.