So I have a dentist appointment today. You might think that it's nothing worth writing about or that it has nothing to do with my kids, but stay with me.
My issues with dentists really started in Navy boot camp. We got marched off to get a shot one Saturday morning (presumably so the effects of the shot wouldn't interfere with our training). To get the shot, they lined us up in a hallway and handed out the vials our shot would come from so we could warm up the frozen little things. Being boot camp, the did this in alphabetical order which put me very near the end. The guy handing out the vials was also giving the shots, and to save time, he started giving the shots right where he left off with the vials...at the end of the line. The first 10 or so of us to actually get the shot got a butt full of ice. It wasn't pleasant, but I shook it off and headed outside to get back in formation.
I remember getting in place and working on fixing up my uniform. Then, out of nowhere, I was on my back with lots of people over me pushing gauze in my mouth and saying things like "are you ok?" or "squeeze my hand!". Later accounts from people nearby said I had just keeled over like a stiff 2x4 and bounced my face off a concrete step. I had broken one of my front lower teeth and sliced my upper lip in half among other things. I got patched up, 3 stitches and lots of aspirin and they told me to go the the dentist Monday.
Because I didn't have an appointment, I spent a good chunk of that Monday sitting in the hallway of the dentist office looking like I'd been hit with a baseball bat. When I finally got in to see someone, I got the impression I was keeping him from leaving early that day. After a bit of poking and looking at X-Rays, he decided that I was going to need a root canal and away he went. After about 30 minutes of grinding and drilling away, I felt a rather jarring sensation and heard the dentist say "uh oh"....Cause that's what people want to hear.
Turns out the bit broke off in my tooth. He hadn't seen this before and wasn't sure what to do. (I'm sure the dentists at boot camp are well trained but fresh out of school) He spent another 30 minutes fiddling with it and decided I'd have to come back Tuesday so he packed some stuff in it and sent me on my way.
Tuesday, still didn't have an appointment, but he called me in just before lunch. And he brought help. So now I had these 2 dentists and their nurse working on getting the broken bit out of my head. (Is it worth pointing out at this point that they were so focused on getting the bit out that they weren't being very gentle with the rest of my swollen and bruised face?) After about 20 minutes, they got the bit out...yay! But of course, at this point they had to finish the root canal. And because I was in boot camp, they didn't want to do a real crown so they just packed it up and sent me on my way.
Somehow, no one in the Navy wanted to do the crown, so here I am, 20 years later and my Dentist is telling me we have to do it soon or what's left of the tooth could break off. Yay for me.
So, what does this have to do with my kids? Well, I've been losing sleep over this and I've realized I have some issues about this whole thing. I also recently realized that I have to be brave and not pass my fears on to my kids. So I'm bravely off to the dentist today in hopes that, by the time my kids head off for their first appointment, I can honestly say "everything will by ok, nothing will happen."
