Last week, I went to the orthodontist for yet another exam and braces-tightening. I’ve been doing this every eight to 10 weeks for more than two years now and I’m still not used to it.
During this particular appointment, the ortho lamented my jaw’s lack of progress (me too, lady). She then jammed a small metal file in between my teeth and scraped back and forth, which is akin to hearing nails scratch a chalkboard — only in your mouth and with the addition of agony.
Just before I fled the chair, the ortho took a moment to compliment my behavior, saying she was impressed by how I had handled my more recent appointments.
As I mentioned at the time, my first dental visits since the fainting spell that broke my face involved undergoing brutal procedures that left me trembling and crying. Every subsequent visit has been slightly easier since I know what to expect, and more terrible, since I know what to expect. For example, I always keep yogurt and mashed potatoes in the house now because after each visit, my teeth and gums hurt so much that I’m unable able to chew food for a few days.
There’s also the dread factor. The orthodontist’s office sends me a text and an email in advance of each appointment to remind me that I have more misery to endure. The moment those confirmation notices appear on my electronic devices, apprehension sinks into my bones. Which means I’m anxious before I even arrive and stressed during the experience itself. The post-work pain only reinforces that.
So, when she praised my newfound ability to hide my feelings, I responded by pointing out all of the above. What I should’ve said was “thank you.” (Apparently, my ability to be graceful and diplomatic goes right out the window when I’m suffering teeth torture.)
Needless to say, the ortho is skilled at her job. I have no doubt she means well. And I truly appreciate all of the hard work that she and the dentist and the periodontist and their techs have done to put my mouth back together. But when this whole rigamarole is over, I hope to never step foot in their offices ever again.
2 Comments
Steven
So much empathy. Dental anxiety is no small thing. I’ve spent a lot of time in the chair this year also, and I’m NEVER at ease until I’m going home again.
Courtney Mroch
Holy crap, Jade! I had no idea you had busted your face OR had dental anxiety. I was cleaning up my emails and came across the new post notice about this post. I don’t know how it got buried for so long, but I’m SO sorry you have been enduring this. Wow. I’m rooting for you that you’ll never have to undergo any of that once you’re all done either!!!!
I used to have extreme needle-phobia that caused all kinds of reactions all at once, including crying like a baby and needing to lie down while they did whatever they needed to. But the worst was the embarrassing reactions, like getting dizzy and needing to both throw up and have diarrhea all at the same time. That caused some very close calls and I always had to ask where the nearest bathroom was before even something as simple as a blood draw. And one nurse early in the chemo process demanded I leave the door open because she needed to know if I passed on while on the pot. I compromised with her and told her I would keep the door unlocked but I wasn’t gong to suffer the indignity of double-ending it into a trash can and the toilet in front of spectators.
I’m sort of over all that. I can even give myself an injection now! It was one of our cats that helped me. (Unknowingly.) I now repeat “Kitty bites” to myself before any needle event to remind myself they never hurt worse than Mr. Meow’s bites when he’d get to wrestling with me.
BUT if I still feel the needle in my arm (like for an IV or something) then I still have that other reaction (super hot, sweaty, followed immediately by dizziness and needing to “go”).
Anyway, all that to say I can SO relate to what you’ve had to go through and I’m so very sorry. But also comforted because really? Jade has some kind of medical-induced anxiety too? I never would’ve imagined. I always just think of you as super stoic. I know we’ve never met IRL (yet; I’m still hoping one day), but you always strike me as so cool, calm and collected that I never would’ve thought you’d experience unnerving like this too.
BUT…I also hate that you do. Sending you lots of love for the next time you have to visit. Also, kudos on making such great strides! It IS a big deal to not let those fears show!!!