Adventures in Dentistry

(a.k.a. quite possibly my most ridiculous neurosis)

For most people, a dental cleaning is a smiple trip, upon which they leaving feeling sparkly clean, right?

For me, not so much.

I schedule my dental visits in the afternoon, knowing full well it's going to require my taking a half-day at work. I always make sure to eat some kind of breakfast on dentist day, because I know I won't be able to eat lunch due to the panic factor. The nerves start early in the morning, and by the time lunch rolls around, I hightail it home.

About an hour before my appointment, I take my first Valium. This is followed by my second Valium about a half hour before the appointment. Gotta make sure that stuff starts working in time :)

Mr. P graciously drives me there and walks me into the office, where the women all schmooze about how sweet he his, how cute he is, and usually giggle at me - they know the drill :)

I'm usually feeling pretty good by this point. Nice and relaxed, and if it weren't for the butterflies in my stomach, I'd probably be asleep. I get called in, and the ordeal truly begins as I lie back in the chair.

Yesterday was dentist day. And I avoided it as much as I could - I hadn't gone in almost a year! It was a rough appointment, to say the least.

When it was finally over, Mr. P was again my gracious and adorable chauffeur. I got home, took a final Valium, and went to sleep. I can't believe my irrational fear of the dentist causes the insane amount of stress that it does. Most people can't understand. Am I neurotic? No, just a wimp, I guess.

So here I am today, with a sore neck from all the stress tension yesterday. I absolutely adore the receptionist and hygenist at the office - they care enough to make sure I'm doing alright. And since they've known me for most of my life, when I call to schedule an appointment, they're already preparing for what may come.

The good news is that the Valium makes me an almost-normal patient. If only you could have seen how bad I was before they started prescribing it for me. I used to squirm and cry and hyperventilate. It was quite the picture, I'm sure, to see an adult have such an extreme panic attack due to a simple procedure. I can't believe they didn't just kick me out sometimes. This all goes back to my childhood - I've just gotten worse as I've gotten older :)

But today, I'm exhausted, partially functional, and feel like I just got hit by a Mack truck. Tomorrow I'm sure I'll be back to my usual semi-neurotic self. I just figured I'd share one of the more prevalent oddities about myself for your amusement.

And for the record, when we have children, Mr. P will be on dental duty. I really, truly hope that our kids don't have to suffer the same fear I do.