A hospital is louder, brighter, and stranger than almost anywhere else a child goes. A social story cannot make it familiar. It can make it expected.
Arriving, checking in, the waiting room, being called back, what the room looks like, what the person examining them will actually do — looking in ears, listening to the chest, whatever is true for this visit — and how long it roughly takes. Use short, factual sentences rather than reassurance-heavy ones; "the doctor will listen to my heart with a cold, round tool" tells them more than "it will be okay."
If a visit includes a needle or a test that will be uncomfortable, naming it plainly — once, honestly, without dwelling — is better than a surprise or a vague promise that nothing will hurt. Trust, once lost to a broken promise about pain, is expensive to rebuild for the next visit.
Going home, a favourite snack, the car ride — the ending is often what a child holds onto most, and it is worth making concrete and true. "Then we go home and you can watch your show" gives them something on the other side of the hard part.
Both, if you can. Read it several times in the days before, and bring a copy or a phone photo of it to reread in the waiting room if things run long.
Say so as soon as you notice, plainly: "this is a bit different from what I told you — here's what's actually happening." A story that turns out wrong once is recoverable if you name the mismatch instead of pretending it matches.
Ask ahead if you are not sure it will be allowed, but most offices are used to this and welcome it. A familiar object is one more piece of the visit that is not new.
Part of our guide to Visual supports & routines.