😨 At the dentist office. I’ve been breaking molars for 30 years. Terrible enamel caused my front teeth to crumble. I have more crowns in my mouth than original teeth, but I still manage to get cavities, probably because I put off these appointments. Wish me luck
An hour later: I made it! Two cavities filled and I’m wiped out.
A few hours later:
Sitting in the lobby of the dental office this morning, I thought, “I hope I don’t get the dental assistant I had in June, the last time I was there.
She was a perky, little blonde. I was back in the office because a third temporary crown had broken while we awaited the permanent. The nerve was exposed.
“A third temporary! Now, honey, you really can’t be eating sticky or crunchy food with a temp.”
This was not my first dental chair rodeo. The latest temp had broken on a Saturday afternoon. All those places that say, “Open weekends!” really mean just until Saturday afternoon. By this time, I’m not eating ANYTHING on that side of my mouth. And I can assure you I was in no mood to be patronized.
I say, “This has been the most painful crown I’ve ever had done, and I’ve had a lot. I really think I can’t do it unless I’m numb.
“Well, let’s try!”
I had a bad feeling about this, but she energizer bunnied her way right along. She tips me back and explains she’s going to clean out a couple of little pieces of the putty I had lodged in there to cover the nerve. You can buy it at the grocery store and it is a lifesaver, but it crumbles like clay.
She reaches in with her instrument and touches right on my nerve. My whole prone body levitated a few inches off the chair and then I landed hard.
“Now, Sweetie, you can’t be moving around while I have sharp tools in there!”
“Then NUMB ME!” followed by sobbing, loud, snotty crying, crying from the immediate pain, the pain of the past week, and because she didn’t listen to me. The whole thing could’ve been avoided. This went on longer than I’m proud of, but that was out of my control.
After my breathing slowed and I’d had some water, the doctor administered the Novocaine or whatever they use now. When I left that day, I could not make a follow-up appointment.
Last week I get a call. “Sara, I see here that you have a treatment plan that we didn’t get done. Do you want to come in next Monday?”
Ugh. Sigh. “I guess so,” sounding very much like a recalcitrant child.
In the lobby. Waiting. Wondering if I have the nerve (haha), to say I want a different assistant if I’m assigned to Barbie. Turns out, I don’t. She called my name.
I let her know I was stressed because my last experience had been very painful.
She said, “Yeah, I think I remember you.”
I breathed, she didn’t talk to me like a young child, and we had a successful appointment.
SurvivingSara 