As you read this I am going under the knife — or drill… or pick… or something. I’m going through a life change early in my 30s. That’s right, I’m talking about my wisdom teeth.
I am not afraid of the dentist. In fact, I think it feels pretty cool to have my teeth polished up and all the regular routine maintenance done.
What worries me has nothing to do with the procedure itself. My dentist’s office is like many of the newer modern buildings: fireplace, TVs, free juice. It’s cosy to make us patients feel comfortable.
What worries me is the literature and information about what could happen when I’m gassed or given certain medication.
The least of my worries is the embedded tooth in my jawbone. The least of my worries is the upper wisdom tooth that I had no idea was coming, stuck and turning green. The least of my worries is the tooth near my nasal cavity that could cause permanent damage if they make a tiny mistake.
It’s true, I fear (though secretly welcome) the gas, the woozy feeling, the medication high. But I am worried about losing control of my body. My fear is that I will say or do something inappropriate.
Yes, they will know anything is beyond my control and I wouldn’t be in a mental state to do something on purpose, but I don’t like the idea of not being able to control my actions.
A friend suggested I videotape the procedure to have a laugh afterward. Again, I don’t want to see myself like that no matter how funny it might be.
I was also told I would have to have someone pick me up from the appointment and I have enlisted a family member who offered to take me to my house when it’s all over. I suggested going to their place simply because I have two dogs at home and I don’t want to be “out of it”, not knowing how I’d react to them.
I take pride in my fears and phobias but this one seems to be opposite of any dentist trauma I’ve heard about.