The Molar of the Story

After a nice lunch and walk with Scott & Jay on Sunday we ended up on the topic of the dentist. It turns out we all go to the same slightly creepy woman. I'm now nervous about visiting her again next week because, before it became clear we had the same dentist they said “Don't go to our dentist.”

I have many cavities (not unexpected considering the last time I went to a dentist I had a cavity and never returned — this was somewhere around high school), including two that require a root canal, a cap, and a crown. I'm really not looking forward to it. The work is being split up into many, many different appointments. It breaks up the bill, I suppose, but it also makes it difficult for me to want to go. If they would just knock me out and take care of every thing at once next Friday, I could at least have some time to recuperate before summer classes begin. Instead I have to keep going every two weeks for god-knows-how-long to have this thing taken care of or that thing filled in.

To be totally honest my biggest fear isn't the drill or the root canal or the devices of torture she uses to do the work — it's the needles. I hate, hate, hate getting shots, especially in the mouth region. I cannot express to you how much I absolutely hate this. The only good part is that she'll give me what she calls a “little pill” to calm me down beforehand. Once that works its magic I hope I'll be less freaked out about the needle. The bad part is that I'm such a nervous person that drugs don't tend to work on me. When you get that worked up your adrenaline goes into overdrive and totally ignores the “x” milligrams of “little pills” coursing through your veins.

I know they'll have to fit me for the crown, have it made, and then put it back in, but can't we do that after taking care of all the cavities?

The sad part is, I haven't even had my teeth really cleaned yet. Because of my wisdom teeth just being removed she was hesitant to do much in the area so I only got a partial cleaning.

Why I didn't go back when I was 17 or 18 to have the tiny cavity fixed is beyond me. No matter how much you hate the dentist, you should never, ever, ever put it off. I'm living proof that your teeth do not heal themselves once there's a problem. I'm trying not to kick myself in the ass too hard, but it's just sooooooo stupid. My only excuse is that, immediately after that last appointment I was forcibly removed from the house and ended up living in my car and on other people's couches for a while. I didn't have any health insurance for several years after that. By this point I'd worked myself up into quite a fear-tizzy regarding the dentist and just refused to go.


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