My hell is full of dentists

I have an unnatural, debilitating fear of dentists.  I avoid the dentist’s office at all cost.  For me to lay down in the reclining chair of dental doom, my tooth has to be physically dangling from my mouth.  For a few months.  You think I’m kidding.  I went my entire senior year of high school with a hole the size of a Skittle in my back left molar.  It was not uncommon to hear my friends request, “dee, let me see your hole.”  My tooth hole, ya perv.

I know no one “enjoys” visiting the dentist, but most can at least tolerate it.  I freak out.  Le freak, c’est chic.  Really.  The last time I went to the dentist’s office (nevermind your pretty little face with your mouthful of pretty little teeth in which century that took place, ahem), I actually cried and had to return on four separate occasions for one procedure because I refused to open my mouth all the way.  It was ridiculous.  I was ridiculous.  The dentist, fresh off the dental training boat, would beg me over and over, “Pleeeeaaaase open your mouth just a little bit wider.”  His pleading would undoubtedly send me into lockdown mode.  Jaw lockdowned and secure.  I tried to save face by giving the dentist a photocopy of this Far Side cartoon on my last visit.  I’m pretty sure he gave up dentistry after me.

Oh, I buck up and put on a brave face for the kids’ dental visits.  I don’t wish this crippling, nonsensical fear on anyone, especially my own ones. I mentally prepare myself weeks ahead of the actual visit, psyching myself up bit by bit, day by day.  Like horses, kids can smell fear.  So, I stuff my fear way down deep near my coccyx.  Then, when we arrive at the dentist’s office, I pull out the arsenal of toys, spread magazines around, make exaggerated pointing gestures at whatever movie they’re showing in the office,…  Yes, I become a bit manic.  But, fun manic.  I won’t stab you with a fork or run off helter skelter with your wallet.  Umm, but I might twist your brother’s nipples and blame my actions on the odontophobia.  Hello.  I’m fun manic.  How do you do? Let’s never go to the dentist, okay? ::twist twist::

Of course, when I heard the THUD! on the bathtub yesterday afternoon, I died a little inside.  Alani, deciding to abruptly turn and reenter the bath, face planted on the tub’s edge.  Ugh, the sound was nauseating.  I’ll forever hear that THUD! echo in my rattled brain.  She let out a cry that told me she was hurting.  There was some bleeding but not a gushing geyser.  Her gums were slowly swelling.  However, her teeth, thank the tooth fairy, were still in place.  I decided to wait it out and see how things looked in the morning.  But, I knew we’d most likely be visiting the dentist’s office the next day.

So, guess who stayed awake All Night Long?  The combination of constantly worrying over/checking Alani’s face and the angst of knowing I’d have to go to That Place and Oh no, what if they do something that hurts?  I’m trapped in adolescent fear.  I tossed and turned, paced the hallway, face watched, then settled in to the computer where I caught a few episodes of Nip/Tuck, a show I’d usually never go for but thought the antiseptic atmosphere of surgery would prepare and calm me for the day ahead.  There were a few choice scenes of hot man ass I found quite comforting.

By this morning, Alani’s gums had swollen even more, so off to the dentist we went.  I performed my manic act in the waiting room as usual.  LOOK!  ::point point::  A PIG!  ::point point::  A PIG!  ::point point::  (barnyard was the movie of the day)  After a brief wait, we were called back to the x-ray room where my mania still penetrated the air.  Since I would be holding Alani in my lap for the x-ray, the tech asked, “Are you pregnant?  Or is there any possibility you might be pregnant?”  to which I guffawed, “You’re hilarious!  You should take your act on the road!”  A simple No would have sufficed.   I was manic, I tell ya.

Alani was very brave and never cried through the x-ray, the poking, and the prodding.  Fortunately, her teeth and roots are still intact and it appears no damage has been done to the permanent teeth.  Whew.  She is on antibiotics for a week to avert any possible infection and is advised to lay off the steak chewing and apple gnawing for a few days.

And, now I’m finally craving sleep.  After brushing and flossing my teeth, of course.