Yesterday I had to go to the dentist to get three cavities filled and I. was. terrified. I’ve never been one to fear the dentist per se, but he’s new, he’s way too chill and he doesn’t read Jane Austen and therefore I judged him. Plus there was the matter of him being the villainous sadist who was going to give me shots in my gums and drill holes into my teeth, no doubt while cackling maniacally.
But let me rewind, I probably should clarify the “three cavities” part. I feel like that might make you think I’m a disgusting human and have poor hygiene and never bathe or brush or floss or such. Let me assure you that is not true. I am only as disgusting as everyone else who brushes twice daily, never really flosses though we all lie that we do and showers at least every other day. Or at least whenever
I feel like it my hair starts to look greasy. Which, if we’re being honest, can now be days at a time thanks to baby powder aka the poor woman’s dry shampoo. Gosh I love that stuff. Hold on, I’ve gotten off track. What was I talking about? Three cavities. The point of this long-winded paragraph is for me to convince you that I’m not the grossest human ever, that there really was only one new cavity. He just also wanted to redo the filling I had when I was a kid, apparently it was done before those tooth-colored fillings were a thing. He said in his too calm, I’ve-been-hitting-the-laughing-gas voice, “I want to make that pretty for you.” Whatever, dude. And the third was a “precautionary” filling that wasn’t quite a cavity, but looked like it might become one down the line and blah blah blah I think he wanted to pay off his new Mercedes.
Because I am calm, rational and not at all dramatic, I vented my feeling to Andypants (among others) via text message assault all morning long. He was very supportive and tried to cheer me up with my favorite Photoshop masterpiece off the internet.
Honorable mention for moral encouragement goes to Faith, Amber, Juliette, my boss, my best friend Caitlin and my work friend Victoria. Don’t judge me, I was scared.
I’d told the dentist in my first appointment that if we were going to do three fillings at once, I was going to have some anxiety and would obviously require horse tranquilizers to undergo such a horrid fate. He laughed jovially through his fog of laughing gas. I think sometimes people assume I’m joking when I’m actually very serious. So I ignored his laughter and said, “No I’m serious. Either you knock me out or I show up drunk. Your choice, pal.” But then I learned that the knock-out drugs were a) expensive as hell and not covered by insurance, b) guaranteed to knock me out for at least 10 hours, and c) a tad dramatic for everyday fillings, even for this here resident drama queen. I decided to put my big girl panties on and go without.
My appointment was at 2:30 yesterday, so I had all day to panic and stress. Delightful. Let me tell you, by the time I arrived at the dentist office and marched inside with a forced bravado that marked the zenith of my acting history, I had made my peace with God and I was ready to go. And do you know what happened? I SURVIVED.
I SURVIVED THE DENTIST.
It wasn’t even that bad. They gave me some laughing gas – that stuff tingles all the way down to your toes, I think under the right circumstances it could be a really good time – which vastly improved my mood and tension level. I made awkward jokes, they told me I was funny, I said “I know,” and we got down to business. They left this magical numbing gel on my gums so I didn’t feel a thing when they shot more numbing drugs into my gums. And then I listened to Oulander on Audible for an hour and a half while they beautified my teeth. I didn’t feel a single thing, nor did I die, not one little bit. Even I am impressed with myself. Slash the dentist’s skills, but it’s my blog so I get to be the hero here.
Anyway then I couldn’t feel my face for the rest of the day and couldn’t chew (or smile) so I had boxed wine for dinner and today I’m good as new. Hallelujah, thank you God and the dentist.
PSA: brush, brush, brush and always use anti-cavity mouthwash. Oh, and I guess flossing wouldn’t kill you.
—The Wife in Training