One things I ABSOLUTELY hate doing is going
to the dentist. I don't just hate it, I DETEST it,
DREAD it, DESPISE it. OK, get the point?
Abby's looking at me like I'm pathetic! I must have
had some really bad experience as a child, because
when I even start to get near the dentist's office
I start shaking and can't seem to get this awful
doom feeling out of my mind. I mean, it's only the
dentist, right? What could possibly be THAT horrible
to cause such anxiety?
Now Snuggles is like "Are you serious lady? We
have to deal with the vet's office which is 100 times
worse than the dentist!" I suppose he's right, but
darn it sharnit and dentist schmentist,
I HATE the dentist's office.
I am headed off the dentist's office yesterday morning
for a little check about some sort of "thingy" I have
located in the back of my mouth just under a molar.
It's been bothering me for a bit of time, but I think it's
probably something pretty minor - just need to get it
checked out and I've now put it off for 2 (or so) months
and it just can't wait any longer. I've put it off for as long
as I can possibly put it off, until I just can't stand it
for one more second of one more day. I bite the bullet
and schedule the dental appointment.
Ughh. So, I arrive and walk into the room which
houses the infamous dental chair. Ughhh.
Am I really here?
Yes, you are really here, I tell myself. Crap.
It's that bad! I seem to start shaking even worse
when I'm in the actual chair. It's awful, isn't it?
I mean, this coming from someone who has had
a child. What could involve more pain than that?
Yes, you guessed it, the dentist. It's THAT bad!
My fear is THAT bad.
Both of my animals are bored to tears with
this story (can you tell?) "Yes, get on with it..."
I can hear them say as they sigh quite loudly
and put their heads down. And under Abby's
breath I can hear her mutter "If you are going
to make us listen to your stories you could at least
get us a bed that fits us both adequately..."
(Keep in mind that they both have about 3 super large
beds each throughout the house, yet they choose to
share this smaller one - WHY is beyond me.)
They obviously feel no sympathy for me.
But on with the story. So...the dentist walks in -
Dr. Glenn - and he's innocent enough. Baby face,
young dentist, fresh ideas, new techniques,
"no pain" is his motto. OK, I say, "no pain" right?
He says, there will be no pain today. Can I trust him?
My past experience with dentists tells me no.
I sooooo want to trust him, but hey, he IS after all
a dentist, and anyone that uses one of these
sharp instruments on the inside of my mouth
is not trustworthy.
So he takes a look inside my mouth, uses one of these
sharp instruments (just like I thought!), probes around
a bit with it, spends about 20 minutes looking around,
testing this, testing that, and then says the words I
dread even more "You need to see a
specialist about this."
What? Why? It's just a little "thingy" in my mouth - just a
cut or something like that - right? "Well, no.." he says and then
pauses. I must have been waiting there for what seemed
like an eternity for an answer, jaw dropped, shaking hands,
heart palpating. Is he doing this just to make me suffer, I wonder?
"It looks like the bone from your jaw is protruding into your mouth
and is causing an infection in your mouth which could be
life threatening." There - he said it. Ughh. My heart sank and
then I begin to think "bone" and "protruding" and "infection"
and "life threatening" and...
and then I think "specialist" - what kind of specialist?
"I'm also recommending that he see you as soon as possible."
OK, so I'm thinking in a couple of weeks maybe - I mean,
we all know how the medical world works, right? As soon as
possible can mean weeks or even months these days.
As it turns out, he called the "specialist" (which is what we'll call
this person for the purpose of today's story) and the "specialist"
wants to see me immediately. "Like today immediately?" I ask.
"Yes, like right now immediately" Dr. Glenn answers.
Ummmm....OK, I wasn't prepared for this but do I have a choice?
The answer is no, not really.
"Choices, schmoices! You always have a choice!"
Snuggles chimes in. "Why didn't you just not go?"
he said. "That's what I would have done".
"Of course you would have done that" I said.
"You seem to do whatever you please around here
and it doesn't always end well, let me remind you of that.
Like the time you knocked my iced tea onto the
carpet (which took me days to get that stain out, let me remind you!),
or the time you tipped over my expensive vase and broke the
leg off JUST so you could play with the flowers that
were in said vase, or the time when you decided to get
yourself locked in the garage because you were sooooo
curious about what was in there. Let me remind you
that choices, if made irrationally, do not always end well.
"Whatever" he says. "Just get on with the story."
OK, so I must get on with this story. So, I arrive about a half
hour later to the "specialist's" office, and by this time I'm
shaking like a leaf - a leaf that is about ready to shake right
off the tree I might add. I am assured by the receptionist
that this is only a consultation and that the "specialist" will
only take a peek to see what's going on. OK, that makes
me feel a bit better. Maybe no pain today. I sit down in one
of the waiting room chairs, prepared to catch up on all
of trashy celebrety news that I never have time to read
on any normal day, when before I could really even open
the magazine the nurse says "we're ready for you now."
Ughh. Can't a girl get one minute of peace before she's put
under the knife? I mean REALLY!
"But wait!" Abby interrupts. "He can't just put you
under the knife like that, can he? Doesn't he know
who you are? Did you tell him that you have
your own statue?"
"You're right" I say. "There is always the statue..."
Somehow I don't think the statue will matter
at a time like this.
The "specialist" pokes and prods, just as Dr. Glenn did,
only this time he says things like "hmmmmm" and
makes these weird faces like I'm a freak of nature or something.
He even pulls his assistant over to take a look. Can it really
be that bad, I'm thinking to myself.
He then finished and says "I'm recommending that you
have surgery right now on this, as it just can't
be let go any longer." My jaw drops and the only
words I can mutter right that second were "surgery now?"
I must have looked a bit on the scared side, as he laid his
hand gently on my shoulder and politely said
"we will take good care of you." Ughh. Boy have I heard
those words before from a dentist! But yes, I forgot,
this guy is not a dentist, he's a "specialist" - that makes
it soooo much more comforting.
"Surgery? Oh no!" Snuggles pops his head up when
he hears the big "S" word. "Does this mean I'm
going to miss my afternoon nap?"
"No Snuggles" I assure him. He yawns and relaxes
just a bit when he hears this.
"You are pathetic" Abby says as she gives Snuggles
this look of disgust. "Mom just tells us she's going
in for dental surgery and you can only think of
your afternoon nap?"
Snuggles yawns once again and turns away from her,
closing his eyes as he prepares for a nap.
I take a look at Abby and in that one moment we
"connect" about our feelings towards Snuggles.
After all, he is the only one we know who can
sleep during moments of crisis - as we're both
panicking, he's off in never-never kitty land
dreaming of catnip and his next meal. Ahhh...to be a cat.
"So, what happened, did you have the surgery?" Abby
pipes up. "Did you, did you?"
OK, back to the story...
Yes, I did have the surgery - less than 5 minutes after
the "specialist" told me I would need to have the surgery,
I was under the knife it seemed, begging the "specialist" the whole time
to please be gentle and to please assure me that I would not have any pain,
and then I was out - off in my own never-never land.
And in less time than that it seemed I had woken up and
was being stitched up - literally -
I woke up to the "specialist" showing off his truly
amazing sewing skills courtesy of my jaw.
"Did you feel any pain?" he asks.
In all honesty, I mean, if I had to answer
honestly, I did not.
Not in one instant did I feel pain. Imagine that!
But do I feel pain today? Absolutely. This is why I fear
the dentist. It's for the pain I know I'm going to feel the
day after and the day after that.
"So, you made it through it all?" Snuggles asks.
Obviously he's awake again and up to no good.
"Yes, I made it through it all" I replied.
"Well, I thought it was a good story" Abby replied,
settling into her afternoon rest.
Yes, it was a good story with a somewhat happy ending.
The dental work is done, I had almost no time to think
about the procedure, which I suppose is much better than
dreading it for weeks to come, right?
But I still say - Dentist Schmentist - I hate the dentist.
Hope you have a wonderful Wednesday - one that
hopefully doesn't involve the dentist.
