Welcome back, everyone! I had an awesome Christmas vacation, and you can check out my recap here, but it’s time to get back to the gonnaing.
I’m not afraid of the dentist and I never have been because of great childhood experiences. I was surrounded by lovely hygienists and intelligent dentists who actually had bedside manner. I am afraid of unusual side effects from common things like Tylenol and anesthesia, and I’m also afraid of the unusual in general.
It’s because of these latter fears that I have put off going to the dentist for quite some time. I don’t fear getting my teeth cleaned, but I’m scared that the bacteria dislodged will land in my blood stream, flow to my heart, and create a deadly infection. I don’t fear getting a cavity filled, but I fear having to be “put under” (THAT TERM ISN’T CLOSE TO COMFORTING) to get my wisdom teeth ripped out.
Everyone around me has heard my crazy reasons for aversion, even if they laugh awkwardly at them. I live in a hypochondria spiral, and I’ve kind of learned to deal with that. It’s cool when it expands my knowledge of the medical world, but quite hindering when my jaw throbs with pain because my wisdom teeth have finally decided to emerge. Quite frankly, the time has come to jump out of the spiral and get my damn teeth fixed.
I have a list of dentists I’m going to spend the day researching and calling tomorrow so I can get an appointment. I’m going to lay down the law for whoever the unlucky son of a bitch is and refuse to settle for less than what I’m comfortable with. I will then find the best of the best oral surgeon based on said dentist’s references and give that asshole some hell as well. I will grit my teeth (zing) and bear it, even when my hands are shaking because come on, guys. This is just silly. I’m in pain and getting sick because of some irrational (OKAY, ACTUALLY RATIONAL) fears.
We shall overcome, bros. Stick with me to see how it goes!