everyone dreads...

...an appointment with the dentist. Even if it should be no more stressful than a routine cleaning visit, in your head it can get blown all out of proportion and turn into a crisis before you walk in the door. Knowing you will walk out of the office with clean sparkly teeth and the freshest breath in the past six months is not enough to overcome the anxiety of knowing you will be walking IN the door of the 'D-word'.

Yesterday was even worser. I knew it would be bad. So bad that I used a variety of lame excuses to reschedule, postpone the appointment I made: literally originally months and  months ago. Cancelled after the original appointment early in the year, mostly out of fear, but partially due to work conflict. Backed into a corner when I went back six months later, and began to reschedule, able to postpone a couple of times. And finally went on Tuesday with a bucketful of terror along for the ride.

The appointment was for eight o'clock, so I woke up about 4:30, thoroughly apprehensive, nearly despondent at the prospect of spending the morning with other peoples' hands in my mouth. I knew it was too late to reconsider, turn back, beg off - and laid there for hours deciding for and against drugs. The last time I was facing  my fears of the dental chair, I'd begged for meds. to calm anxiety. And was told I could not drive myself when 'under the influence'. I still had meds. and pondered the value of use, or possibly just taking my little rubber mallet to have them whack me on the head. But it was too late to recruit a driver, so had to face my quivering-like-Jello anxiety: stone-cold sober.

Yes - it was a bad as I had anticipated. After more than one injection of pain killers and profound consternation. When he got started, my heart was pounding so, I thought I was having palpitations, expecting to pass out. I survived three and a half hours in the dental chair. There may be some benefit to modern technology as I won't have to go back - he did everything while I was there, and there will be no need for a follow up visit. But it was awful. Rest assured I will not be doing that again without drugs.

So much that it reminded me of the time I was still a teenager and the dentist insisted two wisdom teeth/third year molars needed to be removed. I was so full of fear and trepidation, I found the parents  hidden stash of fruit cake bourbon in the closet and had a stiff drink. There was nothing in the house to use a  mixer, so I had it in a glass of milk - it's a wonder I lived long enough to get to the dentist?