I know I’m not the only one who hates going to the dentist. I put it off and put it off but every few months I receive a text message that I’m 743 days overdue for my next check-up. Persistent!
When I took the Bear in for her last check-up the receptionist noted that it had been some time since I had been seen. Clever lady. She knew what she was doing. The Bear was standing right there with me, what was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, check with me in another 8.5 months because I’m a huge baby.’ No, I succumbed and walked over to the counter and proceeded to make an appointment. I need to set a good example for my child.
Typically, even for check-ups and cleanings, I get Ativan to calm me down. I love Ativan so I asked the receptionist if she could get a prescription for me for the appointment. She said she could but due to new insurance requirements, they were now charging $200.00 to have you come in for the hour before the appointment to watch you while you’re getting high on the Ativan. WTF? AND my insurance company won’t cover that, so I’d have to pay out of pocket! This is ridiculous. I just want my drugs.
The Bear pipes up that if she doesn’t need medication to get her teeth cleaned, neither should I. Smart ass.
So, Friday was my appointment, and I was super anxious. I get into the seat and I’m already white knuckling it and I can feel sweat pooling between my clenched butt cheeks. The x-ray do-hickey that the tech puts in my mouth for me to bite down on digs into my gums. It hurts. She proceeds with the scraping and my gums bleed. Her rubber-gloved hands are in my mouth getting my saliva everywhere, all over my face.
I hate saliva. I hate it when babies or dogs drool. I hate dry heaving. I hate drooling at night. I don’t like wet kisses. Throw any other bodily fluid or solid at me and I can handle it. There is just something abhorrent about saliva. Gag. Puke. Vomit.
So, the lovely tech is going from tooth to tooth, moving her gloved hands up and down and I’ve now got a trail of spit across my cheek. Wet. Just sitting there. I’m no longer worrying about the poking and bleeding going on in my mouth. I’m utterly horrified that there is saliva drying onto my face. Wipe it up! She clearly can’t see my distress and simply continues cleaning and writing things down.
The dentist checks in and lets me know that I need 3 crowns. Great. Another reason I hate the dentist, money. I can’t afford to cover whatever my benefits doesn’t. Who can?? Ugh, billionaires, that’s who!! I am irrationally irritated now.
The cleaning is done and now for the gritty polish. That stupid machine always jams the polish up into my gums, but I know we’re almost done so I just sit there and take it. It’s supposed to be mint flavored, but it tastes like crap. I’m finished and woozy, rubbing the dried spit off my face as I leave the office. I grumble as the receptionist calls out that they’ll see me in September. Oh no you won’t. I’ll definitely be sick that day. Muwahahahahahahaaaaaaa! That thought puts a little pep in my step for some reason and I head off back to work. I am such a baby.