So - this will probably be a short post, since I'm also rocking gently and waiting for the next load of painkillers to kick in.
I had to go for an extraction this morning. This has been a bit of an ongoing saga, since my regular dentist managed to snap this one off at the gum, used every instrument she had but stopped short of a hammer and chisel, and at one stage was kneeling on the chair with me, and finally gave up saying that the root had bonded to the jaw-bone.
I love the way that I always get the special weird medical stuff happening. *sigh*
To say I was not looking forward to this would be an understatement, but since I've had quite a bit of pain from the exposed bit that's left, I know it had to be done.
My cousin came with me, which is good, since it stopped me crawling under one of the chairs in the waiting room and howling. She ended up making soothing there-there noises all the way to the surgery, and never laughed at me even when I'd stop chattering (nervous habit) in the middle of a sentence and just whimper. She sniggered a few times, but never laughed outright.
We sat in a waiting room with a few other people, including one toddler from hell, who crawled over the furniture and tried to knock a few pictures off of the wall.
When I got called through I was ... pleasantly surprised.
The dentist was a tall, very good-looking chap who obviously recognised a nervous patient and joked his way through the aesthetic injections. He was smart enough to give me three of them off the bat, so I'm not sure if my normal dentist warned him - I've had two situations already when the legal amount of anaesthetic resulted in a numb tongue and lips and did absolutely nothing to stop me feeling the drill - and I lurched back into the waiting room feeling a lot more cheery. Getting the actual injections still hurt like hell, though.
And then....
Picture this: there are three people in the waiting room. Myself, my patiently waiting cousin, and a blonde woman who looks nervous. My hands are shaking, but they also do when I go to the dentist; I tend to vibrate like a gently tugged bowstring.
Me: This guy seems brilliant.
Stacey: That's good.
(Blond Lady looks a bit perkier.)
Unknown voice from down the hall: Aaaargh! Awoooo! OW!
The three of us look at each other, startled.
Unknown voice, continuing: Oh god! God! Oh, god, NO! GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD!
Blonde Lady turns as pale as the white wall she's leaning against. I'm wondering if it's too late to break for the door.
The nurse appears in the doorway, and Blonde Lady gets beckoned to her doom.
About six minutes later they called me back in, and I sat in the chair, sweating gently.
In under twenty seconds the tooth remnant from hell was out of my mouth.
I checked with the dentist and the receptionist on my way out, and I'll probably be coming back to this particular dentist from now on - he's about 2 hours closer than my old one, and anyone that can get a tooth out with that amount of speed and accuracy and lack of trauma is on my wish-list.
Unfortunately as the anaesthetic wears off and my body figures out that I've Done Something and It Doesn't Like Me right now, some fairly serious painkillers are in order.
Dentists are in my top 5 phobias, hence the title of the post - but I think I've just found a good one. Part of me is relieved, and the other part of me hopes it's a very long time until I see him again, no matter how good he is.
Here's hoping.
I had to go for an extraction this morning. This has been a bit of an ongoing saga, since my regular dentist managed to snap this one off at the gum, used every instrument she had but stopped short of a hammer and chisel, and at one stage was kneeling on the chair with me, and finally gave up saying that the root had bonded to the jaw-bone.
I love the way that I always get the special weird medical stuff happening. *sigh*
To say I was not looking forward to this would be an understatement, but since I've had quite a bit of pain from the exposed bit that's left, I know it had to be done.
My cousin came with me, which is good, since it stopped me crawling under one of the chairs in the waiting room and howling. She ended up making soothing there-there noises all the way to the surgery, and never laughed at me even when I'd stop chattering (nervous habit) in the middle of a sentence and just whimper. She sniggered a few times, but never laughed outright.
We sat in a waiting room with a few other people, including one toddler from hell, who crawled over the furniture and tried to knock a few pictures off of the wall.
When I got called through I was ... pleasantly surprised.
The dentist was a tall, very good-looking chap who obviously recognised a nervous patient and joked his way through the aesthetic injections. He was smart enough to give me three of them off the bat, so I'm not sure if my normal dentist warned him - I've had two situations already when the legal amount of anaesthetic resulted in a numb tongue and lips and did absolutely nothing to stop me feeling the drill - and I lurched back into the waiting room feeling a lot more cheery. Getting the actual injections still hurt like hell, though.
And then....
Picture this: there are three people in the waiting room. Myself, my patiently waiting cousin, and a blonde woman who looks nervous. My hands are shaking, but they also do when I go to the dentist; I tend to vibrate like a gently tugged bowstring.
Me: This guy seems brilliant.
Stacey: That's good.
(Blond Lady looks a bit perkier.)
Unknown voice from down the hall: Aaaargh! Awoooo! OW!
The three of us look at each other, startled.
Unknown voice, continuing: Oh god! God! Oh, god, NO! GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD!
Blonde Lady turns as pale as the white wall she's leaning against. I'm wondering if it's too late to break for the door.
The nurse appears in the doorway, and Blonde Lady gets beckoned to her doom.
About six minutes later they called me back in, and I sat in the chair, sweating gently.
In under twenty seconds the tooth remnant from hell was out of my mouth.
I checked with the dentist and the receptionist on my way out, and I'll probably be coming back to this particular dentist from now on - he's about 2 hours closer than my old one, and anyone that can get a tooth out with that amount of speed and accuracy and lack of trauma is on my wish-list.
Unfortunately as the anaesthetic wears off and my body figures out that I've Done Something and It Doesn't Like Me right now, some fairly serious painkillers are in order.
Dentists are in my top 5 phobias, hence the title of the post - but I think I've just found a good one. Part of me is relieved, and the other part of me hopes it's a very long time until I see him again, no matter how good he is.
Here's hoping.
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