Tickling the Ivories: And Other Dental Nightmares

Ok, so I just walked through the door from a root canal. Sadly, it's my third one and I'm confident it won't be my last. The weird thing is it went great. And no, it's not the nitrous talking. I'm serious. However, this is a new and recent feeling and maybe tomorrow when I'm experiencing the throbbing after-effects I might feel differently.

I wasn't always this embracing of dental work (like earlier today, for example). Here's why. For some genetic reason, I have an abnormally small mouth (go ahead, make all those jokes in your head) and it's been a complete pain in the ass (biscupids?) for my whole life. To this day, getting X-rays makes me long for the soothing comfort of a mammogram -- particularly that fun one where they do the side smush and twist.

When I was a kid I needed to have teeth pulled and not just a few: 16 of my pearly whites.  If that seems extreme I completely agree. Luckily only (only??) 8 were permanent and it was over a 10-year period.

Like many people, I went to the same dentist for the first 20+ years of my life. This guy was great. And by great I mean cool. I have no idea if he was skilled, but he sure was nice. There was the time I was all nitrous'd up and felt I was floating around the galaxy with the Great Gazoo. Dr. Awesome says, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if you could bag that stuff up and when your mom yells at you, you could just open it up and breathe it in?" See what I mean. So cool. Creepy. Unprofessional. But cool.

I think because I made so many visits to the dentist in my formative years -- I won't even get into the crazy reaction I had to the sodium pentathol during the removal of four impacted wisdom teeth, or the hideous gut wrenching reaction I had from the post-surgery Percoset -- I developed a legitimate dental anxiety.

Luckily, in my 20s and 30s I pretty much avoided extra work such as fillings, crowns, etc., but was still terrified of cleanings. So much so that I asked for nitrous at most of those routine appointments. My mom told me a lot of dentists themselves use nitrous when they get their own teeth cleaned, but now I realize it probably has less to do with anxiety and more to do with legal hallucinatory escape. Eventually I gave it up when a pregnant technician asked if I'd be willing to skip it for the safety of her unborn child. Of course I agreed and was surprised to learn I really didn't need it after all.

However, a few years ago I had a major set back getting a crown. Here's my actual Facebook post from that event:

Despite that hideous experience, I've come a long way. Having a gentle hygienist and a trustworthy dentist have made a world of difference. Plus, I've had a major epiphany: the more I go, the less scared I am. How messed up is that? Not to say I look forward to going. That would be weird. Look, I got dealt a shitty hand in the tooth department, but so do a lot of people. It's a matter of having professionals who know how to manage your anxiety and concerns. Like therapists in masks. With sharp tools.