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Testing mobile posting. This is Kuma on our hike up Devil's Head on Saturday. He did well. Now we'll see if this posts...

EDIT:

Well, it posted the text, but not the photo.  Maybe e-mail would do better with that...

Irrational Fears: The Dentist

 
Fear is a funny thing.  It's something built into us, evident even as a little baby.  We're scared of Uncle Joe with that big beard.  We're scared of the sound the vacuum cleaner makes.  Eventually we move onto being scared of the dark and scared from the monsters we saw in that movie.  As we get older, we usually grow out of most of those fears but not always.  Sometimes we hang on to a few 'irrational' ones.

For example, I came to grips recently with how incredibly terrified I am of the dentist.  At 22-years-old, this would be considered by some an 'irrational' fear, no matter how common.  TONS of people are scared of the dentist.  In my opinion, with good reason.  When I was in fourth grade, I was told because of my cavities I needed to have two teeth pulled.  Thankfully, they were my baby molars so it wasn't a big deal.  I'm sure I was nervous, but probably not nearly as much as I am now after the experience I had then.

The dentist gets in there and numbs me up . . .  or so he thought.  After a short time, he begins working roughly on my teeth.  I could still feel it.  It hurt!  So, as the big brave fourth grader I was, I started crying BIG, big crocodile tears.  Finally, the dental assistant pointed my tears out to him.

'Why are you crying?' he demanded.
'It hurts!' I tearfully replied.
'No it doesn't.  I numbed you up,' came his annoyed retort, and away he worked.

Eventually, the numbness set in so it was no longer physically painful.  Unfortunately, that was my first emotionally scarring event at the dentist.

The next time I visited this dentist for serious dental work was in high school.  I had 'decay' on my teeth and they were going to do a new method to take it off:  basically, sand blasting.  It was supposed to be painless.  Not so.  At least, not for me.

I had two separate appointments for this procedure.  One for one side of my mouth, and the other for the opposite side.  They gave me headphones and let me pick out a movie which I thought was cool.  It turned out to be quite pointless.  Not only did they have to put a washcloth over my eyes to keep my tooth dust out of them, they knocked my headphones off.  The high pressure whatchamajig they were using was painful to me.  I cried under the washcloth.  When she removed the washcloth at the end, the dental assistant said, 'Oh, we've smudged your makeup.  Here let me get that for you.'  What she was really washing away was my running mascara from my tears.

My mother insisted I tell them at the next appointment that it hurt me.  I did not want to.  So mom stepped in for me.  When the dental assistant told the dentist that it hurt me last time, he let out an exasperated sigh and told me to raise my hand when it hurt.  Half way through, it began to hurt and up when my arm and out went an annoyed sigh from his lips.  I never wanted to go back to him.

Unfortunately for every other dentist in the world now, that one dentist has colored my view of all of them.  So, when my teeth started hurting a few weeks back, dread was my overwhelming feeling about calling for an appointment.  I finally scheduled one when I couldn't chew on my right side anymore.  That appointment went ok.  Yes, I was nervous.  No, I wasn't happy to be there.  Turns out, it was just a popcorn hull.  Yahoo! . . . Oh wait, the dentist is still going to come check me out?  Does he have to?  Well, he did and decided I needed four fillings on my right side.  I scheduled for the following Monday, a weekend away.

All weekend, I found myself dwelling on Monday morning.  My husband had to work and couldn't come with me.  What if the dentist was rough?  What if he didn't wait long enough for me to numb up?  What if he botched the whole deal?  What if?  I put myself into panic mode.

I think this is where the irrational part comes in for me.  As you have just read, my fear of dentists is not unfounded.  However, due to the amount of time I've had to dwell on it (more than 3 years), the intensity of my fear of the dentist is probably irrational.  I felt helpless to calm myself.  I knew at my age I should be so terrified of the dentist . . . but I was.

Since my hubby was going to be otherwise occupied, I caved and called my mom to be my moral support.  She arrived shortly before I was called back.  I was SO glad to have her there.  Conversation with her was a welcome distraction.

I was so nervous and being nervous wouldn't be so bad if my body didn't decide to be nervous for me!  Nervous doesn't just = emotional for me; it's also very physical.  It makes waiting that much more unbearable.  I got into the chair and talked to my mom while the dental assistant prepared things.  The dentist came in after a while and shot me up to be numb.  After informing the dental team that I take a while to numb, the dentist gave me about a billion shots.  To my surprise (and relief) they were mostly painless.  I'd also rather him overkill than under do.  That didn't keep my nerves down much though.  I think it may have been them finally releasing, but I was shaking so badly I put my hands in my pockets and let out a few tears even though it wasn't very painful.

I kept conversing with my mom as my face got number.  I picked out a movie and made a trip to the bathroom.  Then, it started.  . . .

Not so bad actually.  Not with this dentist anyways.  Every once in a while, he'd stop and ask if I was still doing ok.  After about an hour and a half, we were all done.  Thank goodness, too, because halfway through I needed to use the restroom again!  (Don't drink a lot of water before going to the dentist).   Even though my face was still VERY numb, I drove into work.  My husband laughed at my pitifully as I could only talk out of one side of my mouth.  Talking was interesting for sure, but my teeth felt fine.

While going to the dentist wasn't at all pleasant, it was nearly 100% better than my past dentist visits.  Maybe, just maybe, I am making steps toward shrinking my irrational fears.  Maybe growing up isn't all bad.