Fear and Such

I told you a bit about this yesterday, but thought I'd elaborate a bit today.

I don't suppose that most people ever really enjoy going to the dentist. I know - a few of you out there dig that squeaky clean teeth feeling, but most people dread the old DDS visit.

My rather irrational fear of dentists began back in college when I switched dentists for the third time in my life. In the span of my first visit to the new dentist, I was told that all four wisdom teeth had to come out - and I had cavities. Lots of cavities.

In the span of six months, I had all four wisdom teeth removed, all my mercury fillings replaced with porcelain fillings, and the new cavities filled.

That translated to a lot of time in the dentist chair and a lot...I mean lot of time with my mouth wide open. I was just a few weeks into my senior year of college when I nestled in my bunk with a Twinkie in hand...and I could not open my mouth wide enough to eat the Twinkie.

Don't tell this girl she can't have her Twinkie.

Back to the dentist I went...and a diagnosis of TMJ was handed to me. Too much dental work in a short amount of time, they said. {And no one could have figured that out BEFORE???} They gave me a mouth guard {and by gave, I mean we mortgaged the house for one} and off I went.

In reality, the TMJ doesn't bother me on a daily basis. I can talk and eat and really experience no problem. Chewing gum kills me. But that's okay because I hate gum. And the other thing that kills me? Going to the dentist. Even a cleaning is torture when it's over. Pain for a long time.

And so it was that the combo of some hereditary blessings and some lack of attention to the old moutharoo landed me in a position of worrying that something was wrong and I needed to go to a dentist.

No way was I going back to the old one - too much trauma and drama. I set out for a new dentist and found one whose website promised deep compassion to the fear-filled like me.

I was far too scared to call for an appointment, so I emailed, instead. My hands shook and tears rolled down my face while I typed about my fears. I explained that they should recall the worst 2 year old they'd ever met, multiply that by four and then we would be getting CLOSE to me.

They emailed back and asked me to call for an appointment. It took me four days to gather the courage, but I did. I cried on the phone while I made the appointment.

And then came the day of the appointment. I'm sure you all heard my heartbeat pounding through my chest and into the atmosphere. I sweat profusely. I was hot. I was cold. I clenched that poor, sore jaw tightly. I cried. I did Lamaze.

And when the time came to go...I got in the car and forced myself to the office. I forced myself in the front door and into a chair. And then I schemed for ways to slip out without being noticed. But I stayed.

The office ladies were sweet and talked to me about my job while I waited. The hygienist called for me and sat patiently to listen {aka watch me cry} as I shared my story of days of yore. She handed me Kleenex and looked at me compassionatley and didn't judge.

She took x rays and scans and gently poked in my mouth...and came back with the bad news. Periodontal disease. And not a minor case of it either. I'd have to come back in, she said, and be sedated while they got under the gum line and cleaned me out well. And they'd do some fillings while they were there.

And then she handed me another Kleenex.

No one likes to hear the word disease.

The kind dentist came in, shook my hand, and reiterated what she said. I asked how long such a procedure would take and he said to plan on 4-5 hours.

HOURS.

I just went ahead and grabbed the next Kleenex.

So that's that, my friends. I go in Monday to get all the final details, but it looks like about 3 weeks from now, I'll be having this sedated procedure that will be the first step in a long process of working my way back to health.

Thankful for this gift Lynne gave me right before I left.

The hygienist told me the bravest thing I did was pick up the phone to call in the first place, and I agree. That was the worst. She said I was brave because I came inside and sat until my name was called. She said some people walk to the door and then bolt, and they have to chase them down the sidewalk to retrieve them.

I'll wear the bracelet again next time. And if you are so inclined to pray for me {or perhaps more so...for the people stuck working on me} I'll take it. I'm not afraid of being sedated. I'm only afraid of the extreme jaw pain I know I will have when it's over. Being open multiple HOURS at one time is going to really tax my jaw limits.

The good news? Ryan will get a break from my talking and I should get a bit of a diet out of it, since I'll hurt too much to eat.

So that's my dentist saga. Proud of myself for being brave. On round one. We'll see about round two.