The Dentist...

I am in a viscous cycle.  I hate the dentist; therefore I don't go nearly as often as I should.  And since I don't go like I should, when I do go it inevitably leads to extreme pain and discomfort on my part. Friday, I paid the price for this vicious cycle...

About 8 years ago, a tooth on the bottom right started to really hurt but I was uninsured at the time.  I finally went to the dentist and he did a root canal on it and put a temporary crown on.  I could not afford $1200 for a crown so I left the temporary on for as long it would last and just kind of ignored it.  The temporary eventually fell off and what remained was a little stub of a tooth that really caused no problems.  Fast forward to now, the tooth needed to come out.  I was told in September of last year that it was broken.  I have made several appointments but have shamelessly cancelled them at midnight the night before.  I finally got up the nerve to go on Friday simply because I am looking at hopefully being knocked-up soon and I want all my dentistry taken care of before that happens.   

So, I went in early Friday morning, and had it pulled. It SUCKED.  The doctor took one look at me, saw my horror and offered me the gas which I graciously accepted.  Three minutes later I was floating on the ceiling and I felt nothing.  However, he then said, "forceps", and started pushing and pulling and twisting.  I about lost it!  Even though I couldn't feel it, I knew what he was doing and it freaked me out!  After an hour, he finally got it all out, and I was able to flee the office, running like a scared schoolgirl.  

However, the extraction was nothing compared to what I am dealing with now.  Yes, it hurts but that can be medicated.  I hate taking medicine but I have been doping myself up with ibuprofen 800mg once or twice a day and I'm fine.  The doctor put in a bone graft that is just sitting in the socket, waiting for my gum to heal over it.  It's this gooey, movable sack of bone paste that feels like a piece of chewed up chicken.  My tongue, of course, can't stop playing with it and I feel like it's going to come out or break open.  Every so often, I accidentally bite on it which makes me gag. And, every so often when it moves it releases fluid out of it that tastes like what I imagine cauterized battery acid to taste like.  Consequently, my breath is fowl!  I try to talk to people from at least five feet away.  I honestly would rather go through the extraction 3 more times than this.

My loathing probably started when I was a young  and I have been building on the fear for the last few years.  I never liked to go but my mom diligently took us every six months and I would have a cavity every now and then.  We had a great dentist as a child who was very good with kids and you always got to pick a toy after.  But, to this day, I hate "soft rock" and "Highlights" magazine because it reminds me of the dentist.  I hate the pain dentists cause in my mouth. I hate the sounds, the smells, etc. of the dentist's office. I hate the guilt I feel when I go in there and they give me a mirror and show me how to brush better and lecture me about flossing.  I hate having to hold my jaw open, it gets really sore.  I hate having to try not to swallow.  I hate those little x-ray things that you have to hold awkwardly in your mouth and dig into your gums.  

I have to go back in two weeks to check on the extraction site.  Oh, and to also get a new crown on a tooth that he said was poorly done a few years ago!  Ugh!

I have no idea why I told you this - I guess I just wanted to share my tale of woe ("misery loves company" and all that), and to confess my vicious cycle. I can make no promise to break this cycle at this time but I'm taking it one appointment at a time.  I have to go dope myself up again.