(no subject)
Ok, so. I am not a fan of going to the dentist. Never have been, even when I liked the dentists themselves. But because I know that I'll freak out once I get in the chair, I take two Ativan an hour in advance so that I should be pretty chill by the time I get there. This worked really well for my last cleaning (only the second with this dentist), and when I had cavities filled a few months ago, it worked...less well. I can't stand the noises. So my dentist had me put in my earbuds and told me to play the music as loud as I liked, and they'd tap my hand if they needed me to do something, e.g., stop biting their finger. Those combined worked amazingly.
Today I had to go in to get impressions made for a nightguard, because evidently I grind my teeth at night, and evidently that's not real good for you. I had impressions made when I was a kid, when I got braces. It was awful. I hated it. So today I made sure that I took the ativan at 2 for a 3:00 appointment, was feeling nice and mellow in the waiting room. Get into the dentist's chair, and the assistant tries to fit me for the top mold - and I'm gagging and trying not to cry and she can't even get it all the way in my mouth. I calm down, she tries again, same result but slightly more crying. (I was so embarrassed and upset with myself, and so frustrated that this was even happening since I'd taken the medication.) So at the suggestion of another dentist who works in the office (I assume; I'd never seen him before), she tried to fit the bottom mold. Ok. Got that one in. That meant it was time to make the impression.
I remembered hating them, choking and trying not to gag. I remembered pretty accurately. They got me to breathe through my nose and I kept my eyes tightly shut, and it was awful, but I did it. And then once it was out, I burst into hysterical, hyperventilating tears. They brought me a glass of water, but I could not catch my breath. And my dentist said, "Ok. Well, we'll send this one to the lab, and how about you come back sometime next week so we can do the other one?"
My dentist is awesome, by the way. I was supposed to have a cleaning in June, right when all the shit was going down with the house and my job and all, and I walked in, she asked me how I was, and I burst into tears. "Maybe you should come back another time, We'll call you in a few weeks. Take care of yourself, all right?"
I could not have been more grateful to her for that suggestion. I honestly do not think I would have gotten through a second round without a full-fledged anxiety attack. I eventually got my breathing under control, washed my face, took a cab home. That was probably around 4:00; I walked inside the house, and burst into tears. I still haven't gotten myself together more than an hour later.
I hate the way this feels. I hate that the ativan didn't work, or didn't work well enough. I hate that just about everyone in the world can go to the dentists without any problem at all, whereas I can only remember a single time that I was not crying during some point of the visit. What is wrong with me?
Today I had to go in to get impressions made for a nightguard, because evidently I grind my teeth at night, and evidently that's not real good for you. I had impressions made when I was a kid, when I got braces. It was awful. I hated it. So today I made sure that I took the ativan at 2 for a 3:00 appointment, was feeling nice and mellow in the waiting room. Get into the dentist's chair, and the assistant tries to fit me for the top mold - and I'm gagging and trying not to cry and she can't even get it all the way in my mouth. I calm down, she tries again, same result but slightly more crying. (I was so embarrassed and upset with myself, and so frustrated that this was even happening since I'd taken the medication.) So at the suggestion of another dentist who works in the office (I assume; I'd never seen him before), she tried to fit the bottom mold. Ok. Got that one in. That meant it was time to make the impression.
I remembered hating them, choking and trying not to gag. I remembered pretty accurately. They got me to breathe through my nose and I kept my eyes tightly shut, and it was awful, but I did it. And then once it was out, I burst into hysterical, hyperventilating tears. They brought me a glass of water, but I could not catch my breath. And my dentist said, "Ok. Well, we'll send this one to the lab, and how about you come back sometime next week so we can do the other one?"
My dentist is awesome, by the way. I was supposed to have a cleaning in June, right when all the shit was going down with the house and my job and all, and I walked in, she asked me how I was, and I burst into tears. "Maybe you should come back another time, We'll call you in a few weeks. Take care of yourself, all right?"
I could not have been more grateful to her for that suggestion. I honestly do not think I would have gotten through a second round without a full-fledged anxiety attack. I eventually got my breathing under control, washed my face, took a cab home. That was probably around 4:00; I walked inside the house, and burst into tears. I still haven't gotten myself together more than an hour later.
I hate the way this feels. I hate that the ativan didn't work, or didn't work well enough. I hate that just about everyone in the world can go to the dentists without any problem at all, whereas I can only remember a single time that I was not crying during some point of the visit. What is wrong with me?