Ok, pretty dramatic, right guys? Hehe. But yeah, given my dislike for dentist-teeth-like things, I have had to figure out a way to survive dental visits. And since I’m feeling like quite the sage, I’m gonna share it with you. Pass it on, friends. You might save a life.

I had a recent visit with, you guessed it, my dentist. Not because I needed anything major done, but for my bi-yearly check up. Mind you, I have the best most awesome dentist in the world – so that doesn’t count. It’s pretty much not the problem. Lol. My point is, the actual procedures never, ever, get me excited. No matter how many soothing words you use on me, no matter how much you try to distract me, no matter how much logic and explanation you provide to me… No. Get.me.out.of.here.

I found out that day that I’d need to have both a cleaning done and fillings put in! Gasp. Two, for that matter. Ok, I told myself, no problem. Let’s get this over with. At the cleaning stage, I was lying there, switching between wringing my hands, holding my phone there on my lap, and rubbing my sweaty palms on my lap. During cleaning! I literally had to remind myself to keep breathing.

Guys, so, how many things in your ENTIRE life have caused you to have to REMEMBER to fulfill the basic requirement for living: to breathe? Count them. Go on. And then tell me that being at the dentist isn’t panic-inducing. I know I’m not alone here. :p So I’m there, trying to not forget to breathe next time, then forgetting to breathe, then remembering, and on and on, till she announces she’s done.

Oops. I’ve forgotten one key element here. BEFORE she began cleaning, she had to inject me on both sides of my mouth with that numbing juice. “Not fun” is the grossest understatement and the wrongest phrase for this. On my right, seemed like the needle would end up coming out on the other side of my jaw. That’s how deep the lady had to go – several times. What? At the end of that one, I literally had to ask, in my calmest and sweetest “me” voice: “umm, so why was that particularly difficult?” Note my use of the word “difficult”. I could’ve switched it with another commonly-used phrase, “challenging”, and neither would’ve conveyed how I REALLY felt. Which was this:

death by dentist

“Aaggh, ugghhh, muuughh…”

She explained to me that for her to be able to reach the nerves back there in a person’s mouth, the dentist has to go further down than for anywhere else in the mouth. Aaaand, she’d had to go through a muscle. No fun. She actually said “no fun”!

Yes ma’am. No fun. (side-eye).

You’re now wondering how I lived to tell my story, friends? Here we go:

  • I had my phone on my lap. Just so, you know, I could call someone and scream for help. Umm, yup.
  • I thought of all the wrong choices in my life that led me to that chair.
  • I had worn a skirt made of awesome material; a fantastic palm-sweat absorber.
  • I said multiple and possibly meaningless prayers to the Most High. I needed to get out of that chair stat, but saw no way out.
  • I told myself to remember to breathe.
  • I ignored the Shrek 2 movie playing up there on the screen.
  • I created a new teeth-resolution. Which I’ll stick to now. For real.

So guys, I reckon any three of these will help you cope. Or not. One way or the other, know that you’ll ACTUALLY make it out of that chair and into the sunshine, and you’ll find yourself trying to keep from being juvenile by skipping all the way to your car.

You’re welcome. Now go save lives. 🙂

 

©2016, WriTEswAY

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