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sick_wilson2011-10-25 02:21 pm
mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2011-10-25 02:21 pm
Entry tags:
Trick Or Tre..OW!
Title: "Trick Or Tre..OW!"
Summary: from my “toddler!Wilson” universe. While the different stories/ chapters can be read together, all you need to know is that Wilson woke up one morning in the body of a 4-year-old and with the mind of a child. House is taking care of the kid, who will never get bigger or older. I haven’t decided I he will die one day or not but for now he is healthy other than being a stuck with the brain and physique of a toddler. In this chapter, House takes Little Wilson trick-or-treating and he breaks a tooth on a piece of stale gum.
Warnings: Obviously this takes place in an Alternate Universe and both House and Wilson are somewhat OOC. There are some medical/ scientific impossibilities.
AN: For the Halloween Fic Challenge! I used the words: blood, candle, candy apples, costume, fang, mask, monster, panic, pumpkin, scream, shiver, and vampire. I put them in bold (but if I used a word more than once I only made it bold the first time. You don't have to read the original story "Big Baby" or the squeals "I Don't Put Nothing In My Ears" and Toddler!Wilson Ear Infection to understand completely but it would probably be better if you at least read the first one.
It was a dark and stormy night but Jimmy and I were having a blast inside. Halloween was a little less than a week away and I had bought Wilson a Superman costume that morning. As soon as we got home, he insisted on wearing it. He ran around saving his toys from various dangerous fates, dressed as Superman, every day.
Then, on Saturday the 29th, I took him to the pumpkin patch. He got to ride a pony, play with the animals in the petting zoo, and jump in a moonbounce. We both ate fresh corn on the cob and candy apples, and then we went to get a pumpkin to carve into our Jack-O-Lantern. We climbed aboard the hay wagon and were driven out into a huge field of
pumpkins, along with a group of other parents and kids.
“Stay close to me, Jimmy,” I warned, as we hopped off the truck. He nodded, but raced off looking for the perfect pumpkin before my feet were firmly on the ground.
“Oh cool,’ I heard him call from about 60 feet away. “Look at this one!” I popped a couple Vicodin and made my way to his side. “It’s perfect,” he exclaimed. The pumpkin was perfectly orange, round, and smooth. So I picked it up and trudged back to the wagon, carrying it under one arm.
“How are we gonna carve this thing?” I asked, when we brought it home. “You think up a good idea and I’ll draw it on the side, then cut the pieces out. On Halloween night, we’ll stick a candle inside. It’s one of the coolest things you’ll ever see.”
“Can you cut out pieces so it looks like Darth Vader?”
“No, Pal. Sorry but that’s just a little too complicated. We could do a silly face. Or a scary face.” He nodded excitedly. “Why don’t you draw a couple pictures, so we have some choices.” I took out the book that came with our pumpkin carving supplies, and showed him some of the “beginner” templates. ‘Remember, Jimmy, triangles and squares are the easiest to make.” Wilson came back an hour later, with a handful of
drawings.
“I like this one best,” he explained. “But I couldn’t make the eyes right. How do you draw a diamond?”
“Those can be really hard to do.” I gave him some pointers. Later, I drew two diamonds—for eyes—on the side of our pumpkin. When it as finished our Jack-o-lantern looked like this.
When I told him about trick or treating, Jimmy wanted to go out immediately, and got fairly upset when I said we had to wait until 4:00.
“But why?” he whined.
“Well for starters, that’s the law. Plus, it’s a Monday. So, lots of people are at work. Even if we went to their house, they wouldn’t answer, since they’re not at home. And, you’re going to get tired after we’ve been out for a while. It would stink if we had to come home because you’re exhausted, and you hadn’t gotten any candy yet.” He stared up at me with big, sad eyes. “I’m not giving you chocolate right now. You’re going to have more sweets than you’ll know what to do with very soon.” Wilson continued to fight for a while, but ultimately agreed.
‘Where’s your costume?” he asked sometime later. I tried to tell him how grownups don’t get dressed up for Halloween. “But you gotta wear something or I’m gonna look silly.” Little Wilson helped me I through some boxes in the closet before we found a monster mask. Luckily the eyeholes were pretty big, and when we started down the block, I was able to see where we were going, while keeping the kid in my line of sight. Between Jimmy looking oh-so-adorable as Superman, him being so sweet/ polite, and my pity factor (who doesn’t feel bad for the kid with a crippled “daddy?”) we really cleaned up. I used a wheelchair so we could go further than I can walk, and as his little legs got tired, he wanted to sit on my lap. Wilson had me roll us right up to people’s doors.
After fifteen minutes, the pillowcase of candy was too heavy for him to carry, and I took over. After twenty minutes, I needed—wanted—to eat a few pieces of his hoard, and after 30 Wilson asked for some candy. “But I still wanna keep going,” he insisted. I held the case open and watched him reach inside. His tiny hand came out holding a piece of
bubblegum. “My legs feel better, I wanna walk to the next house.”
“Okay, and remember, don’t swallow that gum when you’re done. Let me know and I’ll give you something to spit it into.” He nodded and handed the wrapper to me, tossing the gumball into his mouth. Two seconds later. I heard a soft—albeit horrifying—crack, and a pain soaked shout from my young companion. “What is it buddy?”
“My toof,” he sobbed. There were tears streaming down his face, and he was howling in agony. I picked the kid up and pried his mouth open.
“I know it hurts, but I need to look at your mouth to see why it hurts. Wilson had a nasty looking broken tooth. What remained was a sharp, jagged, bleeding fang. Some idiot must have had an old bag of gum lying around his house and was too lazy to make sure it was still okay to eat. I wanted to strangle someone. “Well your tooth is broken, but it’s okay. We can go to the dentist and he’ll be able to help. We’ll go home first. I can give you some gauze to hold in your mouth—that will stop the bleeding—and some medicine to help with the pain, okay?” I asked, taking him back to our apartment.
“What’s the dentist gonna do?” he asked, lisping slightly. I could almost hear his little heart pounding in his chest but he tried to act brave. Wilson spat a mouthful of blood into the sink.
“He’s probably going to need to take it out, but he might want to put a piece of pretend tooth over it, like that patch we put on the hole in your favorite jeans. We can’t have you walking around with your tooth like that. You look a little like a vampire, see?” I showed him in the mirror. Jimmy chuckled slightly. Then, he grabbed his jaw, yelping as another searing pain shot through his upper jaw.
I had concerns about taking him to the dentist. I hadn’t taken him in for a teeth cleaning yet. My main reason is that Wilson had been in his four-year-old body for nearly 11 months and showed no signs of growing. I could take him to PPTH because everyone there would know. However, I didn’t want to try and explain why my son wasn’t growing to a total stranger, who would probably think I was crazy and call social
services anyway. Today it was inevitable.
However, even though I knew getting his tooth pulled would mean having a permanent hole in his mouth, it was still better than a root canal. I hated the thought of letting someone perform oral surgery on the poor little guy.
“I don’t want to take my toof out. I’d rather have the patch,” he whimpered, clinging onto me.
“Getting a patch put on your tooth would hurt a lot, and it would keep hurting for a couple day. If they just take it out, you’ll be back to normal by tomorrow,” I told him and I picked up the phone and a copy of the yellow pages. I started cold-calling dentists offices, looking for one that would still be open. I found one, and was told to bring Jimmy in right away.
“Wow, that’s a mighty yucky looking tooth,” Dr. Banks exclaimed, and then turned to me. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,” he took me aside and told me. “I recommend pulling it. That would cause him the least amount of pain.” I nodded. “We are going to give you some medicine to make your mouth numb so it wont hurt when we pull your tooth,” he said to Wilson. I was annoyed with the idiot already. He knew I was a doctor and still talked to me like I was a regular (stupid) parent.
“Do you hafta take it out?” he asked, looking up at me and shivering slightly. I gave him my hand to hold and listened as the doctor explained how it would barely hurt and that a new one would grow in after a couple years. No it won’t, I thought. Great one more potentially upsetting thing I gotta talk to Jimmy about. Way to go Jackass.
The whole procedure went fairly quickly. Banks numbed Wilson’s mouth with some gel before giving him the shot. So, even though Jimmy started to panic a little when he saw the needle, he was really brave and let them stick him with it. He gripped my hand as hard as he could, and squeezed his eyes shut, but was shocked to discover that he barely
felt the Novocain injection.
The tooth itself came out pretty quick and easy. We were able to get out of Dr. Bank’s office by 9:00 PM, with a prescription for antibiotics, baby painkillers—“Only if he really needs them,” Banks cautioned—and a diet plan for the next few day. Other than a dentist, who would ever deny a healthy kid candy on Halloween?
Wilson’s little mouth was still all swollen and numb, and the wound continued to bleed, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Banks had Jimmy place a piece of rolled up gauze in the tooth hole right before we left. He said to “bite down” and hold it in place with his bottom teeth.
He also suggested we use a moistened teabag if the bleeding didn’t stop. I helped the kid to the car, got him buckled into his safety seat, climbed into the drivers seat, and took us home.
“Can I eat my candy now?” Little Wilson asked the second we stepped through the door.
“Sorry, Jimmy, you heard what the dentist said. You can only have liquids like juice milk and soup for the next day or two. Besides, eating candy would probably hurt your mouth right now.” Jimmy looked like he was about to cry. “I know… Would you feel a little better if I made you a milkshake?” He nodded solemnly and followed me into the
kitchen.
The hot fudge and cherry milkshake cheered him up a little. Unfortunately, neither Wilson nor I got much sleep that night. He wasn’t in a horrible amount of pain, but the oozing blood coming from the spot where his tooth used to be, tasted “yucky” to him. I tried to give the kid some gauze to soak up the stuff but he had difficulty holding it in place when lying down and trying to all asleep.
We ended up camping out on the sofa, watching TV all night. I made Jimmy curl up under a blanket, while resting his head on a pillow. I sat near his feet. My hope was that lying down, all wrapped up would allow the kid to drift off and get some rest, and it did.
By the late morning, he was feeling well enough to eat a bowl of soup for lunch. Wilson took a short nap around 3:30 and felt much better. He asked to have spaghetti or dinner. I allowed it, and laughed as he slurped up the noodles and—as always—managed to get his face completely coated in sauce.
“Can I have my candy now?” he begged when we finished.
“You need a bath but afterwards you can have a couple pieces.” I helped him clean up and put on some pajamas. “Please, Dad?” He’d been calling me Dad or Daddy (only when he was really scared or upset) for a while now. Our first few months like this together, he called me House—because I told him it was my name—but after a while, it just happened. The first time we were in the hospital and he was getting stitches. Little guy grabbed onto my arm, and screamed, “Daddy!” Since he seemed to like thinking of me as his father, I figured there was no reason not to let it continue.
“Okay, Jimmy; you can have three small pieces, or two big ones,” I instructed, and poured the contents of his pillowcase onto the table. It was the first time he had seen his candy since we’d gotten home the night before. However, when he was napping this afternoon, I went through the bag and removed anything that felt like it may have gone
stale/ bad.
Even as a toddler, Wilson could be obsessive and neat about certain things. Before eating any of it, he had to organize every single piece of candy, first by product and then by size. Then, he selected a bite-sized Snickers bar, a blue pixi stix and one small bag of peanut M&Ms.
Within a week, Jimmy was pain free. He also seemed to be getting used to having a hole in his mouth. In fact, he began to use it to spit water and juice out of it. Pretty soon, the two of us were back to our “normal” lives and everything (well almost everything) was okay again.
Summary: from my “toddler!Wilson” universe. While the different stories/ chapters can be read together, all you need to know is that Wilson woke up one morning in the body of a 4-year-old and with the mind of a child. House is taking care of the kid, who will never get bigger or older. I haven’t decided I he will die one day or not but for now he is healthy other than being a stuck with the brain and physique of a toddler. In this chapter, House takes Little Wilson trick-or-treating and he breaks a tooth on a piece of stale gum.
Warnings: Obviously this takes place in an Alternate Universe and both House and Wilson are somewhat OOC. There are some medical/ scientific impossibilities.
AN: For the Halloween Fic Challenge! I used the words: blood, candle, candy apples, costume, fang, mask, monster, panic, pumpkin, scream, shiver, and vampire. I put them in bold (but if I used a word more than once I only made it bold the first time. You don't have to read the original story "Big Baby" or the squeals "I Don't Put Nothing In My Ears" and Toddler!Wilson Ear Infection to understand completely but it would probably be better if you at least read the first one.
It was a dark and stormy night but Jimmy and I were having a blast inside. Halloween was a little less than a week away and I had bought Wilson a Superman costume that morning. As soon as we got home, he insisted on wearing it. He ran around saving his toys from various dangerous fates, dressed as Superman, every day.
Then, on Saturday the 29th, I took him to the pumpkin patch. He got to ride a pony, play with the animals in the petting zoo, and jump in a moonbounce. We both ate fresh corn on the cob and candy apples, and then we went to get a pumpkin to carve into our Jack-O-Lantern. We climbed aboard the hay wagon and were driven out into a huge field of
pumpkins, along with a group of other parents and kids.
“Stay close to me, Jimmy,” I warned, as we hopped off the truck. He nodded, but raced off looking for the perfect pumpkin before my feet were firmly on the ground.
“Oh cool,’ I heard him call from about 60 feet away. “Look at this one!” I popped a couple Vicodin and made my way to his side. “It’s perfect,” he exclaimed. The pumpkin was perfectly orange, round, and smooth. So I picked it up and trudged back to the wagon, carrying it under one arm.
“How are we gonna carve this thing?” I asked, when we brought it home. “You think up a good idea and I’ll draw it on the side, then cut the pieces out. On Halloween night, we’ll stick a candle inside. It’s one of the coolest things you’ll ever see.”
“Can you cut out pieces so it looks like Darth Vader?”
“No, Pal. Sorry but that’s just a little too complicated. We could do a silly face. Or a scary face.” He nodded excitedly. “Why don’t you draw a couple pictures, so we have some choices.” I took out the book that came with our pumpkin carving supplies, and showed him some of the “beginner” templates. ‘Remember, Jimmy, triangles and squares are the easiest to make.” Wilson came back an hour later, with a handful of
drawings.
“I like this one best,” he explained. “But I couldn’t make the eyes right. How do you draw a diamond?”
“Those can be really hard to do.” I gave him some pointers. Later, I drew two diamonds—for eyes—on the side of our pumpkin. When it as finished our Jack-o-lantern looked like this.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When I told him about trick or treating, Jimmy wanted to go out immediately, and got fairly upset when I said we had to wait until 4:00.
“But why?” he whined.
“Well for starters, that’s the law. Plus, it’s a Monday. So, lots of people are at work. Even if we went to their house, they wouldn’t answer, since they’re not at home. And, you’re going to get tired after we’ve been out for a while. It would stink if we had to come home because you’re exhausted, and you hadn’t gotten any candy yet.” He stared up at me with big, sad eyes. “I’m not giving you chocolate right now. You’re going to have more sweets than you’ll know what to do with very soon.” Wilson continued to fight for a while, but ultimately agreed.
‘Where’s your costume?” he asked sometime later. I tried to tell him how grownups don’t get dressed up for Halloween. “But you gotta wear something or I’m gonna look silly.” Little Wilson helped me I through some boxes in the closet before we found a monster mask. Luckily the eyeholes were pretty big, and when we started down the block, I was able to see where we were going, while keeping the kid in my line of sight. Between Jimmy looking oh-so-adorable as Superman, him being so sweet/ polite, and my pity factor (who doesn’t feel bad for the kid with a crippled “daddy?”) we really cleaned up. I used a wheelchair so we could go further than I can walk, and as his little legs got tired, he wanted to sit on my lap. Wilson had me roll us right up to people’s doors.
After fifteen minutes, the pillowcase of candy was too heavy for him to carry, and I took over. After twenty minutes, I needed—wanted—to eat a few pieces of his hoard, and after 30 Wilson asked for some candy. “But I still wanna keep going,” he insisted. I held the case open and watched him reach inside. His tiny hand came out holding a piece of
bubblegum. “My legs feel better, I wanna walk to the next house.”
“Okay, and remember, don’t swallow that gum when you’re done. Let me know and I’ll give you something to spit it into.” He nodded and handed the wrapper to me, tossing the gumball into his mouth. Two seconds later. I heard a soft—albeit horrifying—crack, and a pain soaked shout from my young companion. “What is it buddy?”
“My toof,” he sobbed. There were tears streaming down his face, and he was howling in agony. I picked the kid up and pried his mouth open.
“I know it hurts, but I need to look at your mouth to see why it hurts. Wilson had a nasty looking broken tooth. What remained was a sharp, jagged, bleeding fang. Some idiot must have had an old bag of gum lying around his house and was too lazy to make sure it was still okay to eat. I wanted to strangle someone. “Well your tooth is broken, but it’s okay. We can go to the dentist and he’ll be able to help. We’ll go home first. I can give you some gauze to hold in your mouth—that will stop the bleeding—and some medicine to help with the pain, okay?” I asked, taking him back to our apartment.
“What’s the dentist gonna do?” he asked, lisping slightly. I could almost hear his little heart pounding in his chest but he tried to act brave. Wilson spat a mouthful of blood into the sink.
“He’s probably going to need to take it out, but he might want to put a piece of pretend tooth over it, like that patch we put on the hole in your favorite jeans. We can’t have you walking around with your tooth like that. You look a little like a vampire, see?” I showed him in the mirror. Jimmy chuckled slightly. Then, he grabbed his jaw, yelping as another searing pain shot through his upper jaw.
I had concerns about taking him to the dentist. I hadn’t taken him in for a teeth cleaning yet. My main reason is that Wilson had been in his four-year-old body for nearly 11 months and showed no signs of growing. I could take him to PPTH because everyone there would know. However, I didn’t want to try and explain why my son wasn’t growing to a total stranger, who would probably think I was crazy and call social
services anyway. Today it was inevitable.
However, even though I knew getting his tooth pulled would mean having a permanent hole in his mouth, it was still better than a root canal. I hated the thought of letting someone perform oral surgery on the poor little guy.
“I don’t want to take my toof out. I’d rather have the patch,” he whimpered, clinging onto me.
“Getting a patch put on your tooth would hurt a lot, and it would keep hurting for a couple day. If they just take it out, you’ll be back to normal by tomorrow,” I told him and I picked up the phone and a copy of the yellow pages. I started cold-calling dentists offices, looking for one that would still be open. I found one, and was told to bring Jimmy in right away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Wow, that’s a mighty yucky looking tooth,” Dr. Banks exclaimed, and then turned to me. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,” he took me aside and told me. “I recommend pulling it. That would cause him the least amount of pain.” I nodded. “We are going to give you some medicine to make your mouth numb so it wont hurt when we pull your tooth,” he said to Wilson. I was annoyed with the idiot already. He knew I was a doctor and still talked to me like I was a regular (stupid) parent.
“Do you hafta take it out?” he asked, looking up at me and shivering slightly. I gave him my hand to hold and listened as the doctor explained how it would barely hurt and that a new one would grow in after a couple years. No it won’t, I thought. Great one more potentially upsetting thing I gotta talk to Jimmy about. Way to go Jackass.
The whole procedure went fairly quickly. Banks numbed Wilson’s mouth with some gel before giving him the shot. So, even though Jimmy started to panic a little when he saw the needle, he was really brave and let them stick him with it. He gripped my hand as hard as he could, and squeezed his eyes shut, but was shocked to discover that he barely
felt the Novocain injection.
The tooth itself came out pretty quick and easy. We were able to get out of Dr. Bank’s office by 9:00 PM, with a prescription for antibiotics, baby painkillers—“Only if he really needs them,” Banks cautioned—and a diet plan for the next few day. Other than a dentist, who would ever deny a healthy kid candy on Halloween?
Wilson’s little mouth was still all swollen and numb, and the wound continued to bleed, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Banks had Jimmy place a piece of rolled up gauze in the tooth hole right before we left. He said to “bite down” and hold it in place with his bottom teeth.
He also suggested we use a moistened teabag if the bleeding didn’t stop. I helped the kid to the car, got him buckled into his safety seat, climbed into the drivers seat, and took us home.
“Can I eat my candy now?” Little Wilson asked the second we stepped through the door.
“Sorry, Jimmy, you heard what the dentist said. You can only have liquids like juice milk and soup for the next day or two. Besides, eating candy would probably hurt your mouth right now.” Jimmy looked like he was about to cry. “I know… Would you feel a little better if I made you a milkshake?” He nodded solemnly and followed me into the
kitchen.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The hot fudge and cherry milkshake cheered him up a little. Unfortunately, neither Wilson nor I got much sleep that night. He wasn’t in a horrible amount of pain, but the oozing blood coming from the spot where his tooth used to be, tasted “yucky” to him. I tried to give the kid some gauze to soak up the stuff but he had difficulty holding it in place when lying down and trying to all asleep.
We ended up camping out on the sofa, watching TV all night. I made Jimmy curl up under a blanket, while resting his head on a pillow. I sat near his feet. My hope was that lying down, all wrapped up would allow the kid to drift off and get some rest, and it did.
By the late morning, he was feeling well enough to eat a bowl of soup for lunch. Wilson took a short nap around 3:30 and felt much better. He asked to have spaghetti or dinner. I allowed it, and laughed as he slurped up the noodles and—as always—managed to get his face completely coated in sauce.
“Can I have my candy now?” he begged when we finished.
“You need a bath but afterwards you can have a couple pieces.” I helped him clean up and put on some pajamas. “Please, Dad?” He’d been calling me Dad or Daddy (only when he was really scared or upset) for a while now. Our first few months like this together, he called me House—because I told him it was my name—but after a while, it just happened. The first time we were in the hospital and he was getting stitches. Little guy grabbed onto my arm, and screamed, “Daddy!” Since he seemed to like thinking of me as his father, I figured there was no reason not to let it continue.
“Okay, Jimmy; you can have three small pieces, or two big ones,” I instructed, and poured the contents of his pillowcase onto the table. It was the first time he had seen his candy since we’d gotten home the night before. However, when he was napping this afternoon, I went through the bag and removed anything that felt like it may have gone
stale/ bad.
Even as a toddler, Wilson could be obsessive and neat about certain things. Before eating any of it, he had to organize every single piece of candy, first by product and then by size. Then, he selected a bite-sized Snickers bar, a blue pixi stix and one small bag of peanut M&Ms.
Within a week, Jimmy was pain free. He also seemed to be getting used to having a hole in his mouth. In fact, he began to use it to spit water and juice out of it. Pretty soon, the two of us were back to our “normal” lives and everything (well almost everything) was okay again.