I went to the dentist last week for my first round of fillings, ever, in 31 years. Striving always to be the Perfect Patient, I tried to appear very relaxed about the whole event, because really, I sometimes grow tired of people and their damn anxiety over something silly like a colonoscopy, and my best guess is that dental team members feel the same about that person wetting her pants in the waiting room over what is really just a tiny drill aimed at her mouth. Really, it's NO BIG DEAL.
The numbing event started off fine. I can honestly say I did not feel any needle sliding in to my gums, although I quickly wished I had as the gripping terror that consumed me 30 seconds later made a teeny needle sound like a Hawaiian beach with a fruity drink. My palms started to sweat, my heart was beating in a way that seemed irregular (irregular = bad), and I felt like something seriously, seriously wrong was about to happen (more seriously wrong than a pesky drill about to meet my enamel).
The dentist casually mentioned at that point something about the numbing medicine containing epinephrine, a medicine used in my realm of the medical world to revive people who are dying, and to control stubborn areas of bleeding. Was I bleeding or dying? I couldn't tell. But it did explain the racing heart, sweating palms, and...anxiety? Yes, the dentist assured me. Epinephrine can make you feel a bit anxious. Because additional anxiety on top of two incoming dental fillings was exactly what I needed in that moment.
Thankfully, the first filling went fine, after the feeling of imminent death faded. The highlight of the entire event was hearing the dentist ask her assistant to 'please pass me the hatchet'. That's right. All soft-spoken and polite, too, like she was asking someone to please pass the butter. Hearing this was like getting a shot of epinephrine all over again. I am lucky to be young with a strong, healthy heart, because seriously, how do old people survive stress like this? I'm telling you, I was 40 years and a case of congestive heart failure away from being struck dead by terror right there in the dentist's chair.
By the second filling I was thinking we were in the clear, as I hadn't died yet and how much longer could this take, really? Then, mid-drill, I felt something I can only equate to being electrocuted, which I took to mean the numbing medication had worn off. After peeling me off the ceiling once because I had just been zapped, then again after giving me more epinephrine, it was back to the drill.
An hour and a half later, I was out the door with a firm understanding of why so many people truly hate going to the dentist.
3 comments:
I've been thinking I need to get back to the dentist. I haven't gone since I was...23? Yeah. I've never had a cavity before, but I'm thinking I have some waiting for me now. AND I have to get Cy to go somehow. Two years old, right? And he's had all his teeth forever. Sigh. I will ask them to forget about the nervous juice, though. That sounds NOT FUN.
i'm with erin. i have a feeling all our luck wears off eventually.
ABBY go to the DENTIST! I don't know why it's such a struggle. Thanks a lot Amy.
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