I have two big fears in life: broken glass and dentists. If you were at my house for dinner and shattered your glass to bits on my floor, I’d likely tell you it was no problem and move everyone out of the way so I could sweep up the shards of glass like a normal person. When you left, I’d start my obsessive routine, vigilantly seeking out every foot-embedding tiny invisible knife. I’d sweep, and vacuum, and mop and vacuum again. Even with all that, I’d find a lone sliver somewhere in the coming days while I walked through my house in shoes, because I know those evil glass bits are lurking. My glass fear is one that I can hide from all but my closest relations.
My dentist fear is a whole different level of fear. I have fainted dead away twice in my life: both at dentist offices. I have been known to sit in my car and put my head down after an appointment so I don’t faint on the drive home. I have had 7 crowns, 2 root canals, more fillings than I have teeth and my wisdom teeth out. The fear that proceeded all of those pales to my current fear: gum surgery.
It’s a simple surgery. It’s a graft on one tooth. I’ll be fine. I know this in my logical brain. My emotional brain? Well, when I went to visit the nice gum doctor and he pulled out his notebook of gum surgery before and after pictures I did not faint and I did not vomit, which I was proud of. However, when the nice man finished with his horror show of gum pictures and asked me if I had any questions I looked at him, took a deep breath, and burst out crying. He looked at me like I had leprosy.
See, the dentist fear isn’t controllable. It makes me faint and cry in public. This appointment, the one where I learned I was having gum surgery, it was a month ago. A month I have been dreading the surgery. A month I’ve been having nightmares about what is going to happen. A month of seeing his folder of surgical details looking at me. A month of planning logistics. My favorite, is that I have to have someone drive me because of my “pre-medication” and the instructions say in bold, “Do not take a taxi while taking your pre-medication.” This little tidbit might be the only thing keeping me sane. Is a bus okay? What about Uber? A train? I mean, I can’t drive and in bold cannot take a taxi, but no other forms of transportation are discussed.
So, why am I grouchy? Because I deal with this kind of irrational fear for a week or two, but after a month my edges are raw. I can’t take in any more. Anything can send me into a tailspin: my daughter asking for an iPad from Santa, my husband lecturing me on her lack of after school activities, deciding if we should order Christmas cards, and holiday family budget discussions. All of those have sent me into a tailspin. I have explained my craziness to my husband, but somehow he is incapable of turning off normal topics of conversation this week. He can’t stop himself from asking, on a lunch date, if I really need him home on Friday, because he’s really busy at work right now.
Last night? I dreamed I bled out and my family came home to find me dead because I was left alone after gum surgery. Lordy. I need to get this procedure over with so I don’t lose my mind. I’m dreading Thursday, but it can’t come soon enough for the Aftheads.
Afthead 
Oh my goodness I am so stressed out for you right now. I don’t think there is anything to say that will make you feel better, but I still want to let you know that I will be thinking of you. Hope it goes well.
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Can’t take a taxi? Whyever not??
Can I say I love this? Seems like a creepy thing to do: “Oooh, love your anxiety and dread! Keep up the good writing!”
Looking forward to hearing it is all safely behind you. Update us.
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I am so curious why they felt the need to ban taxis specifically in your pre-op instructions?!
I am so sorry that you have been anxious and stressed out. Sending you best wishes for a smooth surgery on Thursday and speedy recovery.
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Amie, I figured you would know since you are in the health industry. Something like, “Oh yes, we ban taxis for our patients too, because of the known contraindication between the off-gassing of the plastic seats and typical antibiotics.” Or something else medicalish.
I can’t wait for this to be over. I’m a mess. Thanks for the well wishes! I’ll write a post-op codine induced post Thursday. That should be creative.
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I have to tell you that I totally get your anxiety about this surgery. I had this done about three years ago, so I will give you my best advice. Bring an iPod with whatever music you need to make you feel relaxed. Use it to drown out the conversation in the room. Close your eyes and disappear into the music. It will be done before you know it! Good luck, and let us know how it goes.
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I was thinking about bringing an audiobook I’ve listened to before and enjoyed. Do you think getting lost in the story will work? Glad to know you survived the procedure.
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I think a story could work. Just make sure it’s loud enough to drown out the dentist when he says, “Now I’m going to….” 😉
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I listened to a book and it was perfect!
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😦
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Thinking of you and hoping all went well. Please update when you have a chance! 🙂
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Thanks! I’ve been loopy on pain killers until today, so I haven’t been able to post. The surgery was easier than expected and the recovery harder. I knew it would be hard to eat, but I really can’t chew anything. It will be 10 more days until my stitches come out so I really do think I’ll be several pounds lighter by then. Thanks for thinking of me!
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I really enjoyed this story, I am just sorry to hear about your pain! I also have a bad fear of the dentist, AND tiny slivers of glass after something breaks!!!! I can imagine if I step on a shard barefoot that it could contract into a muscle and then either kill me or need to be surgically removed. Whew! I guess it’s comforting for me to know the way other peoples minds work. 😉
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