Nervous Patient
I've just come back from the dentists. Well, I only saw one of them, but
they have several there.
I was nervous, but not terrified, when I got there. More sort of
apprehensive. The nurses in the reception area got me to fill out a medial
history form, as it had been so long since I was last there (or at any
dentist's, for that matter). This, fortunately, gave me a good opportunity to
say, in writing, that I'd taken several years to overcome my irrational phobia
of dentists.
After not too much waiting, it was my turn to go up. But this just meant
going up to wait in the smaller, upper waiting area. It was just a few chairs
at the end of the landing (their dental surgery is in what otherwise would've
been a domestic house). But the nurse was already there, and it was my turn to
go in!
I went in, and the quiet dentist (potentially in a scary way) greeted me.
Very gently. I took the opportunity to mention that I'd taken a number of years
to overcome an irrational phobia of dentists, and he stretched out his hand to
greet me more, um, thoroughly, I suppose.
Then he invited me to take the chair. This was not scary in and of itself.
I find dentist's chairs really quite comfortable and relaxing. But it meant
that he'd soon be looking into my mouth. Instead, he sat by the door, and asked
me what I was looking for in the way of dental stuff. I said I was there for a
general assessment, mentioning that my teeth were in a terrible state. He
clarified his question by asking what sort of results I had in mind. I hadn't
really thought about it much. I said I'd like to be able to use my teeth pretty
much normally, but that I wasn't that interested in all that cosmetic stuff
(though I wouldn't mind having fetching teeth - as long as they don't look
falsely 'perfect'). He summed it up as basically a matter of reconstruction
work, saying that the cosmetic stuff tended to pretty much come with it
anyway.
Then he lowered the back of the chair, switched on the light (which, for some
reason, I kept looking at, until it occurred to me that I wasn't in an
optician's), and I opened my mouth. He turned away, putting a mask on his face.
Was he so repulsed by the horror he saw within? No, he was just getting
himself some hygiene gloves, that's all.
The bit when he did look at my teeth was the bit I'd been dreading over the
years. It's 'cause that's the time when the dentist can devastatingly say,
'Oh,' as if disapproving of abysmally low morals. He didn't. There were no
signs or expressions of any kind of disapproval at all. He just carried on with
the same, quiet, gentle voice.
The next thing I feared was the bit with the pokey thing. I just
knew it would hurt, and hurt a hell of a lot, when he stuck it
in two or three particularly delapidated teeth. There was one tooth in
particular, the molar which inspired this trip to the dentist's, which I was
particularly fearful of having probed. The moment came when he stuck that metal
spike in it - and there was no pain. There was no pain! Perhaps that tooth's
really dead. Actually, I did very slightly feel it, but nothing much.
I think he must've been being really careful.
Anyway, I've basically got to have lots of crowns, fillings, and plenty of
root canal work (that stuff that Woody Allen's always having trouble with in his
films). Phew! My third fear was that my teeth would be a gonna, and that it
would be glasses of water for my teeth to sit in each night from now on.
Perhaps that fear was somewhat exagerated, but still, there have been moments
when I have wondered.
Basically, at least from this preliminary examination, it seems that all my
damaged teeth can be saved. No extractions! That was quite a bonus. But, I
have to remember, this was a preliminary examination. There will also
need to be X-rays, and that sort of thing, too. But still, it's really put my
mind at rest. Well, nearly.
There are one or two remaining things for me to consider. Firstly, there's
the issue of sedation. It sounds quite attractive, but there are reasons to be
fearful. Secondly, there's the cost of all this work (though it'll be done
in stages). Even with getting a bulk discount of something like forty to fifty
percent, the estimate is £4411.60!
I'll definitely have to see if I can get such work done on the NHS instead.
Anyway, one of the things that amused me during the course of the visit was
the montage type picture of various bits of Monet paintings on the ceiling.
It's conveniently and thoughtfully placed so that patients can admire some
samples of his work while lying back in the chair. I suspect Monet was chosen
for his relaxing qualities. Another was that they kept referring to patients
like me as nervous
patients
.
After thanking them for their time, paying the fee for the check-up (£24.60,
but I thought it was only going to be £20), and departing, I was happy.
I was pleased with myself for triumphing over my irrational phobia, and
particularly pleased that I hadn't really been that nervous after all. Most of
all, though, I'm very relieved that my teeth can be saved. They have
the technology; they can rebuild them.
Dentist, Dentist, Dentist, EEEEEEEEE!
Finally, today, I am going to see the dentist. I'm scared! My appointment
is at 2:50 this afternoon, and I just know that I'll be terrified by
then. But I've got to go through with it.
I've also managed to mismanage my finances, again, this month, and am now a
bit strapped for cash. I have just enough to pay for the basic checkup.
Investing in a new printer and good quality printer paper had done it. But one
cannot skimp when one's applying for jobs, yeah? And I got two reams of paper
for the price of one, which was particularly good, as they cost £9.99 each. (A
ream, by the way, is 500 sheets, 'cause that way it's 1000 sides. So, I
literallly bought reams of paper yesterday.) I hope my jobseekers'
allowance comes through soon!
Damn, I'm really not going to be able to concentrate on much today. I've
still got some of my resumé to finish. It's now that final editing
stuff, of trying to get it to fit on just two sides (two millireams? or four?
(single sided)), of trying to avoid needless repetition, of trying to get the
bad bits from seeming so bad without resorting to dishonesty, and so on.
I'm really scared about seeing the dentist.
I really must do some real jobsearching today, too. I'm s'posed to keep a
record of what I've been doing, but so far it's mostly stuff about buying a
printer and trying to sort it out, and writing the dreaded CV, of course. (Actually, it's a resumé.
'CV' literally means something along the
lines of 'the course of one's life'. A resumé is just a sort of short summary
of skills and stuff, and that's what I've been writing, as that's the kind of
thing that the advice stuff I've been reading is saying. If I was to write a
full CV, it would be several times the
length, be much more chronological, and would be much more difficult to keep
from looking dismal.)
I'm really not looking forward to going to the dentist's. I'm
scared! I don't wanna go! Please, can somebody hold my hand? Help!
Perhaps my next entry will be made with no teeth.