Because it's High Time You Had a Dental Drama to Read...

A couple of weeks ago, I had my one year checkup at the dentist. One year since my dental surgery, and they told me I am continuing to progress well. Not fully healed yet, but on the right track and getting better with every appointment. {That was my fourth checkup since surgery.}

But at that appointment, the dentist told me I had an old filling beginning to break down and it needed to be replaced pretty quickly. {As in...they knew I would try to delay it until my next 3 month appointment and that was going to be too long.}

They actually did a couple of fillings for me during my surgery lat year, but I was asleep for those, so it's been a long time since I participated in full consciousness for a filling.

And...um....it was a disaster. The time before the sedated fillings, I mean. I had a panic attack and they had to actually stop the appointment and have me come back another time. And I had issues with my jaw locking shut {and then open} when they gave me Novocaine. A disaster from top to bottom.

So you can see why I was a bit nervous.

I've heard people say that when you have a baby, you sort of stop caring about your dignity and embarrassment becomes nonexistent. Well, I don't know about having babies, but I have reached the place of my dental-patient-career where I no longer have any dignity, and embarrassment is just a way of life.

Yesterday was the appointed filling day. I kept myself busy all morning, I called a couple of people for prayer support, and I skipped lunch out of sheer nervousness. {WHOA. I mean WHOA.} I strapped on the trusty old "Fear Not" bracelet, doused myself in Stress Away essential oil and headed to the dentist. They took me to a back room {thank you, Jesus for privacy!!} and I said to the assistant, "Have they warned you about me? Is my picture on a cabinet in the back room somewhere?"

I told her all about my panic tendencies, my previous experiences with a locking jaw, my TMJ, and probably a whole lot more she wished I would have kept to myself.

They tilted the chair back, and Fixer Upper played on the TV above my head. I needed the support of close personal friends in my hour of need, and Chip and JoJo were the closest I could find. Apparently it wasn't quite enough, because you guys, I cried all the way through the Novocaine. WHO DOES THAT!?!!? Apparently needles are different now than they were the last time I was awake for this sort of adventure, and the one they used was so big, it messed with my gag reflex and scared me to death. I felt honest-to-goodness tears rolling INTO MY EARS, and that was the end of whatever shred of dignity I had left.

I'm sure that poor dentist was thinking "WHY did I respond to the alarm this morning. WHY??"

They left me alone for the numbing to take effect, and I texted Ryan, saying "I don't think I can do this. I mean really. I DO NOT think I can do this." He told me I could. I decided not to test the waters by seeing what might happen if I came home without the completed procedure. But I'd be lying if I said that didn't cross my mind.

The assistant asked if she could do anything to make me more comfortable. I said, "Let me go home??" She laughed. I kind of hadn't been kidding.

When the dentist came in to remove the old filling and prepare for the new, I gripped the chair with both hands and mentally chanted "Jesus" because I figured it would hamper the work at hand for me to actually say it out loud, but I know there's power in the name of Jesus,  and I needed a good dose of it right then. What I'd been told should only take 3-4 minutes took closer to ten, and I only had to ask them to stop twice so I could do some Lamaze breathing and work my way through the panic.

The sweet assistant kept telling me I was doing a really good job, and she spoke to me in the voice people use on toddlers in potty training, but I remained unoffended. At that moment, my entire body was shaking so violently from fear that I could see the tools on the tray attached to my chair bouncing like they were in an earthquake. Finally, I dared to ask, "Are things really okay or you just telling me they are to be nice to me?" Evidently the cavity was deep and treacherous, but we made it through the drilling. The dentist tapped my shoulder and said "You did a great job." Liar. But I'll take it.

With that, the only thing left to finish was the filling itself. I finally got control of the ridiculous shaking and the assistant worked quickly to finish her work. When she got to her last round of sealing, I felt my jaw begin to lock up and panic set in completely. She felt my jaw trembling and said urgently, "TWENTY SECONDS!! GIVE ME TWENTY SECONDS!!" Those were the longest twenty seconds of my life, but we got through them with no locking.

By that point I was sweating, I don't even WANT to know what my blood pressure was, and my jaw was so sore.

But. I. Did. It.

Next time I won't be so quick to be a hero. There is no shame in being 37 and knocked out for a filling, I've decided.

And just what, exactly, is an appropriate token of gratitude to send to a staff who had to deal with the likes of a 37 year old toddler?  Ideas? Suggestions?