It's a conspiracy

Yesterday was the dreaded day for my first round of dental pummelling. You may or may not (probably not) remember my posting on my recent visit for a check up, the first in five years courtesy of Scotland's lack of dentists prepared to work on the NHS.

On that occasion I was cheerfully informed I needed a crown but I would be contacted further if anything more showed up in the X-rays. Something more did show up...apparently two small fillings, today I was to have the first of these.

Now, my phobia of dentists has also not gone unmentioned here. Well, it's not so much the dentist. him or herself presents no problem but the procedures they carry out do....a big problem, the biggest of which is extraction! But, having met 'Mr Very Nice Dentist' at my check up and having been assured he understood my fears and that I was to have a filling, I set off this morning only half scared to death.

Upon my arrival, with the benefit of hindsight, the receptionists greeting of me was marginally strange, she appeared slightly uncomfortable but in my state of nervousness I barely registered her existence let alone her manner, and so in I went when I was called, full of bravery......only to be informed by 'Mr Very Nice Dentist' that the tooth I thought was to be filled actually required extraction!!!! Yes, he could possibly repair it with two or three hours work but it would only last a year or two and alternatively it could be wrenched from my mouth brutally removed painlessly, in a matter of seconds.

At this point my flight or fight response kicked in big time, my body suddenly knew it was harboring way too much adrenaline and in that horrible state of trying to hide near panic, I tried to listen coherently to 'Mr Very Nice Dentists' advice.

There was it seemed nothing really to decide. My five year lack of dental care (Thank you Scotland's NHS, I love you too) had resulted in a pretty crap tooth and out it had to come and so hanging onto the nurses hand for dear life, trying to somehow not behave like a small frightened child, I gritted my teeth (pun intended) and we went for it. Four large injections later (yup, it wouldn't 'numb up' with the usual two, oh joy) and a swift and practiced wrench and the offending tooth was history, amazingly I am still here to tell the tale!!!...... Though I did require to be left prone for ten minutes before I could maintain an upright position without assistance, my legs didn't really know what they were doing for a while, my hands shook uncontrollably and I was damn glad I had my dad with me to drive home!

So why the 'conspiracy' title...because the dentist knew all along, as did his nurse and receptionist that the tooth was to go but he also knew that if he had told me in the original phone call what was to be done, I would have never shown up!

This guy certainly has me sussed and he was of course right. At the very least I would have had a fair few sleepless nights prior to the dreaded appointment and indeed would probably have cancelled...as it is, it's all done and dusted and whilst I might feel like I've been punched in the face right now by someone with significant upper body strength, it's a good job done with a minimum of cowardice and hoo ha!

The guy is a bastard star! :o)

Anyone got a straw?