....of the dentist. I cannot stand going and therefor, have not gone in over seven years (please, do not let my dad be reading this!!!). I have graciously allowed Steve and the boys to go, since we do not have dental insurance and use flex spending funds. But Steve is increasing the amount in January (five kids now and all), so that little plot has failed me and I knew I would have to go in January. I figured I could psych myself enough that I would go. My mouth, on the other hand, had other plans.
For the last month, I have had a dull pain on the right side of my mouth that has gradually gotten worse. It is now to the point where I have shooting pain any time anything goes near it or touches it. It is awful. So I knew it is time I have to go...flex spending money or not. I have something that doesn't feel quite right on the one tooth, also. Not sure what that's about, but it makes me nervous.
This all started when I was little. I didn't like the dentist to begin with...always thought they were evil people. I had a brace put on the roof of my mouth to separate that bone and my parents would turn the freaking key twice a day to "gradually" break it, to make more room. One would hold me down, the other would turn. They claim I wasn't that old when I had it done, but I remember it vividly. And, in my ensuing fear of dentist, it might be even worse now than it actually was, but I highly doubt it. I'm just saying...to be fair.
Then came four years of braces in high school. Thankfully, I had the clear ceramic kind, which was a blessing and a torture all rolled into one. They had just come out with them, so they may have perfected it a bit more now, compared to the dark ages, but I was constantly breaking them and saw my orthodontist far more often than anyone should. Which meant another tightening and more pain.
I went when I was pregnant with Austin because my wisdom teeth were coming in. Couldn't do anything about it...I was pregnant. So, I waited until he was born and they were thoroughly impacted, and had them removed. Surprisingly, they didn't do too much damage to my straight teeth. More on the bottom than the top and even that is fairly minor. That was bad enough, but then after they removed them, they discovered I had my very first cavity...pregnancy seems to bring them on. So I had to get that filled and that wasn't pleasant at all.
I skipped a couple of years and then, out of a sense of duty, went back. They found some minor damage and did a "sandblast" thing on them. That's honestly what the dentist called it. He said it wasn't a big deal. Bull $h*t it wasn't a big deal!!! I expected it not to hurt. I couldn't eat for three days I was in so much pain after that!!! And, supposedly, I had no cavities when he did it, so there was no drilling involved! That was the last time I went.
So now it's seven years, two pregnancies, and four kids later, and I am truly terrified. I have built it up and built it up to such a frenzy in my mind I can barely calm myself. I hate, hate, hate dentists. So much so that I wanted to go all the way to Waterloo so I could have a dentist I didn't know who wouldn't think I was a wuss. But, in the grand scheme of things, that wouldn't work. The drive back and forth would take two hours, plus the time in the dentist office, and it isn't feasible for Steve to take that much time off work. So, it was between his dentist and the kids. The kids dentist is in town, but I didn't really want to go there...them knowing me and all. But I caved and am going there tomorrow morning. I suppose after all is said and done I better just start going every six months like a "normal" person.