Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I Want the Gas Thankyouverymuch!
Do any of you have phobias? Do certain things just send you over the moon or under the bed when you even begin to think about them?
I hate the dentist. Not my dentist, personally. No, he's great. It's just unfortunate he chose the career he did. It's his career I hate. Loathe. Despise. Truth be told, I'm afraid of the dentist. This is what happens to me when I have to go:
- Before I even leave my house I can fear the dread welling up inside of me. I check the children for fevers in hopes that maybe one of them is ill enough for me to stay home and nurse them to health.
- While in the car I usually pray for a minor car accident just so I can call with a legitimate excuse not go.
- When I pull into the parking lot my heart begins to palpitate at a very unnatural rate.
- I walk in the office door and the smell alone nearly sends me running from the office screaming, "you can't make me do this!". It is at this point that my gag reflex is activated.
- When they call me back, I physically begin to tremble and my mouth goes dry. Very, very dry.
- The sounds of drills drilling sends chills running up my spine and I begin to clench my teeth. I wonder if I collapse in a heap on the floor if they would consider rescheduling.
- Upon sitting in the chair, my heart shifts into high gear convincing me that I shall surely die from heart failure before one of their latex gloves even touches my dried up lips.
- By the time I have to open my mouth I have worked myself into such a dither that I start laughing rather nervously, almost maniacally, and my speech becomes rather fast and disjointed while I blather on about my gag reflex and telling them to " please do not let me swallow anything or taste anything because I will throw up on you." They love me there.
And this is only for a CLEANING!!
I had to go to the dentist this past week, so all of these things are fresh in my mind. My hygienist is usually very accommodating and tries very hard to keep my mouth sufficiently rinsed and suctioned. Because y'all, if I taste a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g I will begin to gag.
I am nothing if not lame.
Anyway, once my cleaning is complete and my dentist comes to check me out, things get a little stickier. You see, he's a guy with big 'ol sausage fingers. He jams his fat, little latex sausages into my mouth, with no regard for my terrifying phobia of him, and begins prodding around at my molars. He sticks my teeth with his little sticker thing at an alarming rate. All while talking and laughing and assuming that I'm not about to die right there in his dentified presence.
Now here's the kicker.
Just when I think it's all about to be over....he tells me I have an old filling that has some flaws and will have to COME BACK and have another filling put in it's place. Come back? (insert violent whimpering here)
Oh, the horror of it all.
I have to go back. I don't get my 6 month reprieve. I have to begin this vicious cycle all over again, but if you can believe it, on an even more psychotic level. Because after all, they will be DRILLING ON ME!!
Y'all, I would rather have natural child birth (supposing thus said child is not in the posterior position because dang, they hurt!) than to go to the dentist for a filling. We won't even talk about my neurosis when I have to have a crown.
But believe it or not, I'm good. You wanna know why?
Oh yeah, baby. I signed up for the gas plan. For $35 extra dollars they can drill all the way to China and back and I won't care. I'll be thinking nothin' but happy thoughts. Am I a wimp? You bet! I want the gas!
Now if I could just get my hands on some of that stuff for the flight I'll be taking next week I would be Oh So Very Happy.
Nitrous oxide in portable form. Now there's a good idea.