Two weeks ago I went to get a full medical check-up, which was actually pretty fun and the results were excellent. Today I went to get a dental check-up :(, which was awful and I had been dreading it for weeks. I am so afraid of the dentist that it’s ridiculous. My sweet mother always has to take time out of her day to accompany me to the dentist’s office, otherwise I would leave before even entering the waiting room. The only time she did not go with me was in 2005 (see picture), because back then Yasu was in Europe and he was there to protect from those scary drills.
This time I went to a Dutch dentist for the first time in 10 years. When we lived in Belgium we were obliged to go to a Belgian dentist and I really did not like him. He was very unfriendly and cold and he basically told me not to be such a big baby and grow up. This of course didn’t work and made me even more afraid of him, leading to almost 3 years of me not going to the dentist at all, because I was just too scared. It was only because I was moving to the States for one semester that I made myself go see him again, much like I am making myself go now in preparation for my departure to Japan. After seeing me cry in his office before even sitting down in the chair and my mother explaining that I was really scared and it wasn’t just an act, the Belgian dentist mellowed down and did his best to (unsuccessfully) calm me down.
Another problem I had with the Belgian dentist is that he worked alone (which is normal for that country), so without an assistant who can push away my swirling tongue to protect it from the drill. So today, I was pleased (but not happy because I could never feel happy in a dentist’s office) when I saw the Dutch dentist’s office crawling with tongue-protecting-assistants. Another improvement was the friendly atmosphere and normal smell, as the Belgian office and was cold and smelled like a slaughter house.
While two assistants (I later found out that one of them was actually the dentist) were poking around in my mouth, I was squeezing my own hands to mush hoping they would find nothing wrong. Later when they were removing tartar from my teeth, with something that sounds like an angle grinder, I was squeezing my poor mother’s hands to mush :o. So far they found nothing wrong, I was starting to feel a bit better, but then they took pictures of some molars and discovered something… upon further inspection in my mouth it turned out to be a cavity :o :o :o!!! This was too much for this scaredy pants, and tears started rolling down my face, there I was crying at the dentist again, and I’m 26 years old. But the female dentist (by now I found out that she was indeed the dentist) and assistant were very nice and comforting, which was another huge improvement from the Belgian male dentist.
May 3rd I have an appointment with this young female dentist to get my cavity filled. This means I will spend the next two weeks in agony while I anticipate that drill penetrating my molar while my tongue swirls around in my mouth. I try to find comfort in the thought that there’ll be a friendly assistant who protects my tongue and that I’ll be anesthetized. Unfortunately, the painkillers are administered with a syringe, and pricking needles have the ability to send this low-blood-pressured-girl straight into a fainting fit. Although, I must say being unconscious during a drilling session at the dentist, would be something wonderful.