Thursday, February 5, 2009
Some tortures are physical
And some are mental,
But the one that is both
OMG. I just returned from a 2 and 1/2 hour dental appointment. I hate the dentist. He's actually a really nice guy who reminds me of my mild-mannered husband but he is my dentist so I hate him. To ease the tension and probably to break the boredom (how many crowns can one drill and construct over and over and over and still find interesting?) he and his dental assistant were cracking jokes nearly the entire time. They were funny, and I was laughing (well depending on what strange foamy stuff was sticking out of my mouth I was either grunting or voicing a real laugh). At one point the dentist became a little frantic, actually throwing a terrorizing looking tool onto the counter, muttering, "This stuff dries quickly," but other than that minor crisis he was pretty funny and very attentive to my dental angst. No matter, and although I do sincerely appreciate the humor, I really, really do not like going to the dentist and doubt I ever will. My friend, when I told her I was going to the dentist for two crowns said, "Oh, not a problem. Once I had a root canal and they went right through the front of my tooth and I didn't feel a thing." Lordy.
Driving all the way to the dentist (he's a 1/2 hour away but I have gone to him for years), I was thinking....so why am I sweating? Why am I breathing in short little gasps? Am I fearful? Of what? Losing control? Being in pain? Having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the 2 and 1/2 hour procedure? It was really hard to nail the exact cause of my dread. I started thinking about my husband who recently had that lovely knee manipulation procedure (see 120 degrees below). In the pre-op room during our 3 hour wait, he passed the time by... sleeping. I, on the other hand, and remember I was not the one having the procedure, sat straight up in a chair the entire time, wide-eyed and alert (on 4 hours sleep) reading a book and watching him sleep (in amazement). Why does this intensity spring forth from my being? I wish I could just go with whatever comes up and sleep while waiting to have my teeth drilled to little nubs, but that is just not me.