My trauma with the dentist started at a very young age. Picture this: First time at dentist. Family on welfare. Asshole Dentist. Five year old. First cavities. Family on welfare. Asshole Dentist. Fill cavities without giving child Novocaine or pain medication. Five year old. Screaming.
Picture this: 33-year-old. Still screaming (although self-contained and screaming inside mostly). Sick to stomach, and now with a 4 month old greedily grabbing at the orb to get milk. AFTER, I have already taken my anti-anxiety medication. Sigh…..
So. What I have noticed is that I want to be a good role model for Sunshine, and for her to see her mommy all worked up about going to the dentist… Not so good. Can’t wait until I have to go with her to the dentist. Lord. I will have to get my husband to take her as I won’t be able to drive.
Here is the deal. I must have a crown put in, plus a cavity to be filled. Bad enamel runs in my family, and well… it is just a period of time before I’d have to have this done. I, however, put off seeing the dentist quite a bit. It isn’t actually the issue of being there, at the dentist. At least not any more. It is the build up of the day before and actually going to the appointment where my anxiety gets so high, I might pass out.
I loaded myself up with so much medication that I am not able to drive, and I begin to see things that are not there.
Today I sat in the chair, and listened to Sunshine chat away with my mother in the front room. I believe the staff in the office wished to keep her and make her their mascot. She did such a great job, and I found I was more attuned to her and how she was doing, then whatever drilling they were doing. It was funny, though. I started telling them what I thought each drill sounded like in my head. One drill, sounded like the cars at Nascar races…. VRROOOOMMMM! It made my brain in my head rattle back and forth. I swear! Can someone get a TBI from overuse of drills in the mouth? Something to ponder.
What I often do when at the dentist, is start humming songs. Today, I started humming B-I-N-G-O song, but for some reason, call it drug induced hilarity, I was singing DINGO instead. The nurses were cracking up, I was cracking up… and I could hear my daughter laughing in the other room.
Did I actually see a Dingo? No. I might as well have for all the funniness that was going on. Who knew how funny one could get while going to the dentist. Now. If only someone could help me with this pain in my mouth for the next 2 weeks, THAT would be impressive.