I don’t suppose I’m alone in not really enjoying trips to the dentist. A friend of mine gets so nervous that she takes valerian to calm her down before making that trip to The Chair. Her husband just doesn’t go at all.
In addition to one’s natural fear of a stranger putting his big hand in your mouth and drilling at high speed, I also blame our childhood dentist. He didn’t believe in using painkilling injections – his theory, I think, was that if it hurt a bit, you’d be motivated to take better care of your teeth!
Whatever. I have always had really good teeth (thanks, Mom, for taking the trouble to give us fluoride drops, even way back in the ’50s!!). I’ve only had a few fillings. I have all my own teeth. So I really can’t complain toooo much! But I will, of course!
We are lucky enough to have a dentist in our village, 3 days a week. They have all the modern facilities that the big guys have – on-the-spot x-rays, the lot. So when I had a toothache yesterday, off I went, hoping he’d tell me it was all in my imagination.
But, no. I have to go back in 2 weeks to have my root canal finished. For some reason, when I had my initial RC 2 years ago, that dentist only deadened 2 of the 3 roots. Don’t ask me why. So the final root needs to be killed – our dentist says he can drill around the cap, and then it will be fine.
I’m sure he’s right – but I still don’t like it!