03/01/2006: "The tooth of the matter"

Well, it's confession time again here at Chez Goddess. I know it's not been long enough since my last confession, and it won't be long enough until my next one, but what can I tell ya? I was raised Catholic and I'm a firm believer in the "confession is good for the soul" theory of life and also? You are here reading so you must want to know my deep dark secrets.

OK, so here's this week's. I'm afraid of the dentist.

I know I'm not alone in this. I realize that it's not even that strange a phobia. Lots of people don't like to go to the dentist. There's comfort in that, there really is. But it doesn't change the fact that my fear has prevented me from seeing a dentist for... 4 years? Maybe more?

Now not all of this is my fault (bien sur!). When I was laid off at work I lost my dental insurance. And that was... 2 years ago. So the last 2 years can be understood because I didn't have insurance and if there's one thing I hate worse than sitting in a lumpy dental chair and getting poked in the gums with a sharp object it's having to pay 100% for the *ahem* pleasure.

Of course, that doesn't explain the other 2 years. Not having insurance for 2 years could concievably excuse me from seeing a dentist for, oh, 2 years, but not for four. But I have an excuse for that too! Honest! A good one!

See, I'm a chicken.

But! Wait! That's not all the explaination I have! I was subjected to lots of Ambush Dentistry when I was a kid, courtesy of the fact that we travelled 60 MILES ROUND TRIP AT LEAST TO VISIT THE DENTIST.

This was not because we lived in the country or on the moon or anything. It's because my parents were insane. Oh! No! No they weren't! I didn't mean that. Although what you call people who drive into downtown San Francisco to visit a dentist when they could just have easily have stayed in suburban Newark (on the other side of the BAY!!) and seen one... is unknown to me. Loyal? Maybe? Insanely loyal?

The net result of these (insane) trips to the city was that we'd go to the dentist, get X-rays and a cleaning and then BAM! "We can squeeze that filling in right now." And why could they fit it in? Because we always got the last appointment of the day (in fact, I think we only ever saw another patient in the waiting room, like... once? Sort of creepy) since we'd driven a long way and why make another trip?

Why? Because it's not nice to spring Novocaine shots on innocent children when they were just expecting a cleaning, that's why! It's not nice and I didn't like it. No sir! Not one bit!

Thus my fear, years later, of dentists. I'm totally afraid they'll say something like, "Oh we can fill that right now!" I don't WANT you to fill it right now, sir. Or ever really, so keep your big-ass pokey needles to yourself Dr. Shoots-A-Lot. To avoid such scenarios, I just didn't go to the dentist. I didn't want to go to the dentist and, legally if not socially, I'm an adult and I can avoid the dentist like the plague if I want to. And I wanted to. So I did.

But exercising my god-given right to avoid dental professionals has it's drawbacks. In the form of cavities. That need filling. In my head.

I have these soft teeth that are quite prone to cavities. Brushing, flossing, whatever - my mouth is full of dental work (see: fear of dentists). Some of that dental work is, in a word, crappy. Such as the filling on the side of my front tooth that has a hook that catches dental floss. Or the crown with a gap between the tooth and THE CROWN. Just for instance.

So yesterday I finally caved and went to see The Dentist (going full time at school has the benefit of dental insurance). The Dentist was a very nice man with many many sharp objects who only used them on me a little bit. He chipped off 4 years worth of whatever it was he was scaling off my poor teeth, and took lots of X-rays and told me I need to come back and see him three more times! My dentist likes me! He asked me out again!

Or, you know. He wants to inject me with Novocaine and fix the crappy dentistry of the past and also "deep clean" my right lower jaw. I thought you could only do that for carpets but apparently it's a possibility for teeth as well. Who knew? (the dentist did, apparently).

I'm going back in about an hour for the first of the three visits. Fillings. Front teeth. Not. Excited. At all. This despite the fact that my new dentist is a very nice man who chatted me up about Europe and unconciously sang "Night Fever" while taking a crow bar to whatever plaquey crud was cemented to the inside of my bottom teeth. Who couldn't like a Disco Dentist? I couldn't resist his Bee-Gee lovin' charms and I don't think you could either. Dave had warned him that I was afraid of dentists and you could see he was going out of his way to make me comfortable despite the VERY SHARP POINTY THINGS HE HELD. He stopped often. He took the tools out of my mouth before asking me questions. He noticed when I did the Butt Walk down the chair and was so tense it looked like I was going to shoot out of the chair like a rocket. In short, he was nice.

My dentist as a kid was nice too, I suppose. It's not the dentists themselves that I object to. At a cocktail party I'd certainly have a discussion with one, not run away crying at the mere mention of bicuspids or otherwise flee in anxiety. It's the NEEDLES and the POINTY HOOKS and the fantastically disturbing sounds that come out of my head when they do their voodoo on me.

That's the part I don't like. Also? I can't knit with people's hands in my mouth.

Replies: 1 Comment - Go read it!

on Wednesday, March 1st, Feral Dustbunny said

Oh, I dunno, if you were doing a really simple scarf, maybe you could knit ...
:)

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03/01/2006: "The tooth of the matter"