What time are you going to the dentist? Tooth hurty.

So this week it was my turn to bring the entertainment in the form of irrational behaviour, an unfortunately timed meltdown and a complete over reaction, which, incidentally occurred simultaneously.

This week I went to the dentist for the first time in a long time.  I’ve had a toothache for the better part of a month (which is shocking, I know) but I was dealing with it by living on Panadol and denial.  But I did make some progress – I went from only having either chewable Disprin, which is my pain reliever of choice, or soluble Panadol, because I am absolutely terrible at swallowing tablets, to actually downing about four Panadol Rapid caplets like no one’s business.  Then I would count to twenty and take a few deep breaths and wait for the pain to ease – and I can confirm that it is pretty rapid but I’m not sure that it was ‘best practice’.

During this month of pain and denial, I managed to convince myself that it would go away, it didn’t or that it was just sensitive teeth and nothing some Colgate Sensitive Pro Relief couldn’t fix; it wasn’t and finally, that it was just stress related jaw pain which occasionally extended to my ear and down my arm when I was two minutes overdue for my beloved Panadol but this was not true either.  So finally, when I realised that I was relying on the old green and white box a bit too much and the pain was only getting worse, I decided that I just needed to suck it up and get myself to a dentist.  Except by the time I came to this conclusion, I’d lost my voice so I had to message Shane to ring up and make me an appointment like a controlling husband.  On the voice thing, I just woke up one morning and it was gone but I didn’t actually feel that sick.  A lady at the hairdressers asked me if I had laryngitis which I didn’t think I did but apparently that is the technical term and so I’m definitely going with that because it sounds so much better, as in worse – like there is something really wrong.  Right, appointment booked, time to sort this out.

I’m not grouse when it comes to medical procedures hence why I’d put off this appointment for so long.  Mum was pretty happy to find out that I could only have one person in the theatre when the boys were born and that person was Shane, because she’d had enough after being with me when I had a mole cut out.  I never used to be this bad – I had terrific dentists when I was a kid – Dr Guthrie would let us choose a toy out of the drawer after our appointment and then we visited a dentist in Albury for years and years and he was awesome and lovely and it was never intimidating or scary – even when I had root canal super young because the nerves and the roots were all tangled up. But a few years later, I needed an emergency repair to that root canal and it was horrendous.  Maybe because I was in my 20s and should have been old enough to deal with the reality of getting some dental work one, this particular fella, who I’m led to believe was actually a qualified dentist, didn’t warn me about putting needles in, was pretty rough and his bedside manner was non existent.  So I pretty much haven’t been game to set foot in a dentist since, let alone take my open mouth to one.  But the time had come.

So off I trotted and tried to convince myself that it would be fine and people do this all the time blah blah blah.  Filled out the form, read a few lines of a book (which I’d bought myself as a treat for being such grown up) and sat in the chair.  Sunnies on, let’s go.  Then he had to do the ‘cold test’ to determine which tooth was sore and hooley dooley, I nearly shot through the roof.  And then I cried.  I managed to hold it together just long enough for an x-ray and then a brief discussion about the fact that I would need to get the tooth out because root canal was not going to save it before really losing my mind.  And asking, like a toddler, do I have to have a needle?  Of course I bloody did!  I stopped just short of hyperventilating, but I was a bit of a mess and the poor dentist and dental nurse were terrific when confronted with this hysterical woman losing her mind for no really logical reason.  So we decided that it would better if I came back in the morning and we tried again.  How bloody embarrassing.  What a mess.

So how did I go today? So good.  Unbelievably good.  I went totally prepared – two stress balls and about two hours worth of podcasts to listen to. For those who live in the Wimmera and need a dentist, and for those who don’t but want a really ace dentist, I cannot recommend or speak highly enough of Dr Jiang at the Horsham Plaza Dental Centre and the nurses there.  So bloody good.  He was calm and kind and explained everything and reassured me and did a bloody good job.  And I can’t believe how much pain I am no longer in. So the moral of the story is‚Ķfind yourself a good dentist and go!


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