The Dentist

Oh, how I strongly dislike the dentist. I have an irrational, overstated fear of it and – needless to say – am absolutely dreading my visit today.

Last time I was there, I had 2 root canals under general anesthesia because I was so terrified (and knew I couldn’t possibly be conscious for the procedure).  This time, though, I’m bucking up and choosing the heavy sedation route (gas + klonopin) and am hoping that does the trick. I’m due for two crowns and a cleaning, which shouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’m scared silly none-the-less.  

I had my first pill last night at bedtime, a half pill with lunch and will take another whole one about an hour before the procedure. Between the mellowness cursing though my body and the nitrous gas I’ll get, I pray that I can be a still, calm and together patient (just hoping I don’t have a freak out, as I did last night).

Fortunately, I’m usually able to pull myself together in public situations, though the dentist is kind of an expectation. The drama queen that I am, I say I’d rather have a leg amputated than get drilled in the teeth (but if it came down to it, I think I’d feel differently). But, as I’ve told myself repeatedly, this is not an option and I have to go. Hopefully I’m blowing everything out of proportion and it will be a walk in the park (wishful thinking, I know).

If I could only learn how to successful cope with the dentist, I’d be in a lot better shape. I remind myself that thousands of people go to dentist appointments every day, and not only survive but are fine. Why can’t I be like that too?