Monday, September 23, 2013

The Dreaded "D" Word

It's no secret, I HATE going to the dentist.  As I child, however, I really did like going to the dentist.  I can still remember getting to pick a toy, most often a ring, from the little treasure chest once my appointment was done.  And let's just say, I had a lot of rings in my collection.  I must have had really bad teeth when I was young, because I remember having all those silver caps on my teeth.

 As a young adult, I didn't really have any problems.  

However, in my late 20's, early 30's, I had a traumatic dental experience....and that was all it took.
I developed TMJ and it was determined that by removing my wisdom teeth, it would remedy my problem.

It was the removal of my wisdom teeth that did me in.  Morphine was the drug of choice for my dental surgeon.  During the procedure I sat up telling them I could feel everything and that I needed something more for the pain.....the request was refused.  They pulled one tooth, but had to cut out the other three.   My face was bruised for over two weeks.

My next trip to the dentist was just for a filing.  The dentist gave me the loopy drugs, but I didn't react to them the way that he hoped.  A phone call later from the dentist and my husband was there to pick me up.  Evidently, (I don't remember) I decided to fight the dentist anytime he came near me.  Since I was a "violent" person, they refused to work on me.

Now, I know better.  In order for me to go and have any type dental work done, I have to be put completely under with anesthesia.  The anxiety level of just knowing that I have to go to the dentist is extremely high.

I am writing this at the moment with a tooth ache.  I know what it means.  Another trip to the dentist.  So,  I'm preparing myself.  

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