I had a two-hour dental procedure done today. I have teeth anxiety, in general, and although I have excellent teeth (genetically, as well as actually – due to my flossing obsession) going to the dentist makes me freak. And two hours is a long time to handle such anxiety. They make you wear goggles now, psychedlic orange welder-goggles, to deal with the splashing of the jet and any other debris that might come flying out of your damn mouth during the procedure. My problem is that it is the SOUND that is awful, and often I cannot tell if I feel pain or if it is just the sound that is so horrifying. I have the best dentist who has ever lived, so she works with me, and tells me what she will do before she does it, but boy, it takes all of my Latinate-inspired Irish Catholic trance state (introibo ad altare Dei, introibo ad altare Dei, introibo ad altare Dei … ) plus Zen Buddhism to get through it. “Is this hurting you?” she asks, as she drills away. I respond (gargled, due to the cotton and crap in my mouth), “I can’t tell.” Can a SOUND hurt a person? I am here to tell you yes.
But there were times when I found myself welling up with tears, thinking about pain, and what I have witnessed recently, in terms of pain endurance, and sheer fucking guts … and then tears come. Not of pain but of loss and my own brand of guts. I can certainly put up with this, after what I have seen. But nothing comes by itself anymore. Joy comes with loss. Triumph comes with regret. This will be how it always is, from now on. That’s life.
Regardless, I am very emotional right now, anyway, and maybe 45 minutes into the appointment, I got into a groove with it. Everything went slack. My limbs flopped, my eyes stayed closed, and the only thing that was tense was my left fist curled up into a ball. Everything else was in another zone entirely. The novocaine wasn’t just numbing my face. It numbed everything. I went into my fantasy-land, where I can be free, (you know, leaping on a trampoline in the middle of a desert), and while the entire time I was enduring what was going on in my mouth, I was also 100% relaxed and felt like i could go to sleep at any minute. This is what training yourself in relaxation will do for you. Breathing must be low and deep, and there are “go to” places in your head that are relaxing … use them, utilize them.
So I did. Tears rolling down my face. Limbs slack and dead. Caught, stuck, trapped, breathing.
Rolling images through my mind. An act of will. All I wanted to do is pull the cotton out of my mouth, and scream, “STOP. JUST STOP” and flee down Lexington Avenue. But I didn’t. I endured. Breathing low, enduring my feeling of loss, and grief, and holding up before me images that helped.
I know I reveal myself with posts like this, and I open myself up to attack. The attacks come like clockwork. Some guy is writing a mean and contemptuous email as we speak. But I cannot worry about such things, or let it hold me back.
I am speaking my truth.
I have to believe there are those out there who understand.
I understand.
Me too.
Count me in. I’m a recovering dental phobic, thanks to my wonderful dentist’s chairside manner; he just GETS IT. I used to score some Xanax from a mood-disordered friend each time I had a dental appointment.
But you’re right, Sheila. The sound, my god, the sound. Where is technology when you really need it!
The “Is it safe?” scene in “Marathon Man” will always give me chills.
Sheila – I am there with you in spades. My greatest fear, my room 101, my nightmare to wake me from a deep slumber in sweats is the dentist. I have thought about hypnosis to see if I can find the root of this stomach turning, limb numbing angst that overcomes me as I walk to the dentist each time I must – I must breath – (yes breathing) and I must become someone else – I pretend I am a brave soul when it comes to the dentist – ya know one of those people who has no fear of pain no fear of that horrible NOISE! If my visit is only a cleaning I’m okay – but there is only one person I will even let near my fragile potato famine Irish teeth (I did not get the strong teeth gene). If a drill is involved – OMG! I am calling up my MD (who luckily completely understands my phobia and gives me .5 mg of valium to deal). As my dentist says – don’t force yourself to go through that angst without aids darling! I am armored to the nines – a little bit of valium, some gas, a warm blanket, a warm neck roll, a CD player and the TV showing an old movie (Singing in the Rain works best). Yes – my dentist is a God send – he lets me wrap myself in all the protection I need. The SOUND!!!!!!! The DRILL – the evil little ugly nasty DRILL!!!!! But – I did put my anxiety to good use – even if I don’t know how to deal with it in the CHAIR – I did get a poem title – yes The Teeth – and so I say – use those fears – relish their energy – as you did – to take you to new places emotionally, spiritually, artistically – wherever it might be. I say – speak and speak again about these fears – because they are the pathways to wonderful stuff. Even if it hurts like heck to go through them. If anyone criticizes – well – what can I say – they might not fear the dentist – but perhaps they fear self-expression – and I ask you which is worse – fear of the dentist – or fear of self! To all those who fear the dentist – our fear is in the right place – concentrate it all there – my mother feared escalators, elevators, bridges, and the highway – things that take you places and so she barely left the house. I fear PAIN – I am proud of my fear – at least I go to the dentist in spite of it – and so did you Sheila – you faced your fear and passed through it and because of that – you are changed – with a greater depth of feeling then ever before – that is what fear does for us – if we face it – it deepens us – that is the gift it can give. I am so glad you wrote what you did – it helped me!!! BRAVO the fear of the Dentist!!!!!
Sheila – your comment made me well up with tears, and also made me miss you!! So sorry last night didn’t work out – I was still all puffed up from the dentist yesterday!
I think there is a fear of self-expression – it sure pushes some people’s buttons. Instead of just listening, they read 2 or 3 lines, and then attack. It’s so obvious to me, on my side, what is going on with them … it’s just unfortunate how PREDICTABLE it is. Like I can tell beforehand which posts will bring me mean emails. And it’s not ones where I assert a controversial opinion or bitch about Michelle Kwan. It’s the ones where I am most open and flawed. THOSE are the ones that piss people off.
But back to teeth.
I love your “potato famine teeth” comment, and while I am lucky lucky lucky that my teeth are good – in and of themselves … it’s the SOUND that makes me crazy. I also had a really bad experience with a bad dentist when I was about 12 years old. He was rough, unsympathetic, and hurt me a great deal. Guess I can’t get past it.
Breathing helps … as does those crazy fantasies I can call upon at a moment’s notice!
I love you, Sheila – can’t wait to see you again!
“But there were times when I found myself welling up with tears, thinking about pain, and what I have witnessed recently, in terms of pain endurance, and sheer fucking guts … and then tears come.”
I know. I understand. And I thank you for putting words to this, because I still can’t, although (I don’t know why) I NEED to put words to it.
I think “potato famine teeth” is my favorite expression of all time. EVER!! I really can’t stop laughing, whenever I read those words.
hahahaha Isn’t it the best? Sheila is a wonderful poet, too – and a good friend. You’d love her, Beth!
Potato famine teeth is one of the byproducts of being Irish. We really just have to come to terms with it!!!
You are brave girl — in more ways than one.
I understand too.
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