LONG IN THE TOOTH
Not so long ago, I needed to go to the dentist. It was a highly traumatic experience.
With the level of trauma, you’d think perhaps I had a root canal, tooth extraction or dental implant. But no – it was a checkup. And it took me several days to recover from the experience.
I left the dental practice in a state of shock, my anxiety through the roof and my body shaking for hours. For real. I had super clean teeth, a pounding heart and many sleepless nights before I stopped reliving the experience.
Before I go any further, I’d like to point out that the dentist was a perfectly nice man and very good at his job. So my level of trauma was about me, not him.
I have been blessed with very good teeth – and for that I am very grateful.
THANK YOU GRANDMA!
Consequently, over the decades my dental visits have been few and far between. But each year (or every other year…) when I go for my annual (or not so annual…) checkup, it feels worse than the last time. There’s something about becoming a middle-aged woman that makes dental experiences almost intolerable.
In fact, a lot of middle-aged experiences seem to be increasingly intolerable – television violence, screaming children and the inevitability of the aging body with its hairy chin, increased flatulence and flabby mons pubis. But the alternative to aging is of course, not so pleasant. I digress…
After my recent checkup, I needed a filling. It is decades since I’ve had a filling and given the associated trauma with the check and clean I figured drugs were going to be necessary to survive the procedure. It turns out, however, that having a filling is infinitely less distressing than having a checkup.
THERE’S A LOT LESS VIBRATION INVOLVED
The trouble with the checkup is the dentist cleans my teeth with some fancy swirly scratchy thing. This is not to say I don’t clean them myself on a regular (twice daily) basis. But for reasons known only to the dentist, he does a better job than me and part of the “service” is to give them an extra intensive scrub.
I don’t like it. It vibrates my skull until it seems like my teeth will actually fall out. I am constantly trying not to gag on my own saliva. And there’s continuous fear and apprehension that a nerve ending is about to be hit. God forbid if there is a sliver of exposed nerve ending because that is spine-chillingly unpleasant. My fingernails dig into the sweaty vinyl chair in anticipation of the shock.
My filling itself required a lot less vibration in a lot fewer teeth. There was a lot of pushing and prodding but with the assistance of a Valium before the procedure, I got through with no mental anguish.
I AM NOT BRAVE
I have never claimed to be in the least bit brave and I have no shame in my cowardice. I’m sure there are things I’m good at, but being stoic is not one of them. Inwardly I complain. A lot.
I will never again attend a dental check-up without pharmaceutical support to relax me through the process. With Valium onboard, I dissociated myself as much as possible and went off to warm, sunny Thailand. Where I tried to have a lovely time – right up until the dentist asked me a question. Why do they do that? We all know you can’t answer a question with a mouthful of cotton wool and dentist fingers.
But in between questions I managed to sever my conscious link with the sticky chair, ugly sunglasses and rubber gloves, then pretend I was anywhere but the dentist’s office. I can’t seem to do that without the assistance of drugs.
I NOW HAVE LOVELY CLEAN TEETH, A BRAND NEW FILLING AND A REINVIGORATED FEAR OF DENTISTS
I don’t recall ever having this level of anxiety about dental visits and thank goodness I don’t have to go back for at least a year. I am very grateful I have – so far – had very little need of anything more complex than a filling and they have been few and far between. I now see the great attraction for young women in the 1940s to have all their healthy teeth removed and replaced with shiny white dentures.
For now, I am happy I can cheerfully bite down on a crunchy carrot without fear of dental repercussions. But I do confess that a year from now, when faced with the reality of yet another checkup, I will be seeking out some pharmacological support before the big day. See you in Thailand.
Image courtesy of instagram.com/eurosaurus/
