Today I have my semi-annual appointment with my dental hygienist to get my teeth cleaned. I hate, detest, loathe going to the dentist for anything. Even driving by the dental office gives me a minor anxiety attack.
I think my dread of going to the dentist first stemmed from watching the scene in the movie Marathon Man where Dustin Hoffman is being tortured. Don’t remember it? Here, let me give you a visual reminder:
Yeah, that one. Ewww…it brings chills to my spine. WHY my parents let me watch such a thing, I have no idea. Actually I was probably watching it late at night after they went to bed while I was eating an entire jar of green olives which ended up making me so sick that I couldn’t look a green olive in the eye for a couple of decades. But that’s a story for another time.
Another life experience that added to my dentist anxiety was when I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was in college. Our dental insurance at the time wouldn’t pay for general anesthesia. So, yes…I was only given a local anesthetic and was awake for the entire extraction. I heard every snap. crack. pop. Seriously one of the worst experiences of my life. I’d rather give birth than go through that again. I’m very thankful wisdom teeth don’t grow back. (They don’t, right?)
Lastly, just look at the instruments they use in your mouth:
It can’t possibly be beneficial for your teeth and gums to have sharp, metal, pointy things digging around in your mouth, can it?
Then they try to make nice by giving you a bright new toothbrush and sample toothpaste like that makes up for the torture they just inflicted upon your innocent mouth. Nice try, no cigar.
So if you are thinking about it, say a little prayer for me today around 3 p.m. CST as I am led into the den of torment and agony. My mouth and I thank you in advance.