I went to the dentist today. For the first time in 20 years.
I take no pride in this epic neglect, and am ashamed of the insidious fear that I somehow embraced years ago — a fear that all but ensured I’d never sit in a dentist’s chair again. I can’t tell you when my pervasive fear of dentists began, or how it was formed. I can’t tell you why the thought of someone examining my teeth eventually became far more than an uncomfortable one — because for you, it’s probably that: merely an uncomfortable thought and experience — or why it detoured into a rat-toothed breed of to-the-marrow terror.
I can’t provide you or myself a tidy “why,” perhaps the most crucial element in conquering an irrational fear.
For the past 20 years, this phobia dictated my life. I told no one. I became its slave. As the years went on, my fear of dentists was compounded by the fear of what might be happening inside my mouth, and what would be discovered were I to be examined. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve started awake, slick with sweat, from nightmares of tooth loss. Fear heaped upon fear.
I ignored warning signs of tooth pain; cavities, most likely. And for more than a decade, my tongue probed an ever-growing wall of tartar behind my front lower teeth that became so hard and large, it completely covered those teeth and nearly all of the gum below. I could no longer feel the contours of my individual teeth. It was like pressing your tongue against a ceramic bowl.
This specific, tangible representation of my situation inspired more dread within me than anything else I’ve ever known.
My girlfriend and I are moving to Colorado in two weeks, and she made it clear that visiting her dentist before our departure was something very important to her. She booked an appointment for me. I resisted, and eventually confessed my secret fear to her. She was supremely supportive and sympathetic. And because she was so supportive, I didn’t bail.
I wanted to. I haven’t the words to adequately express how desperately I wanted to. On the drive this afternoon, I gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles burned white. I prayed for a flat tire. I was pulled taut, could barely speak; red-line adrenaline revved through my capillaries.
I wept when I climbed into the dentist chair. I wouldn’t open my mouth when the technician wanted to do an x-ray. I shuddered and sputtered, sounding stupid as the dentist — a delightful, patient, round-faced 30-year veteran of the business — tried to speak with me.
They’d pull out every tooth in my head. I was absolutely certain of this. Behold my mouth, a cathedral of neglect. Behold the ruination. Behold my lower front teeth — rotten, bleeding, crumbling brown things — tumbling onto my lips as the technician scraped that smooth wall of tartar with a fishhook.
But as the dentist spoke clearly and constructively, demonstrating his expertise and depth of knowledge, the feral thing inside me began to hush. There were no monsters here. And as the dentist commented confidently that the dental issues I described were common (did you know that most folks experience tartar buildup on their lower front teeth? it’s due to their proximity to several enthusiastic salivary glands), I realized there were no monsters inside my mouth either.
I did the math, made a leap of faith, and let go. Two hours later, my tongue could feel the individual contours of those bottom teeth again, finally. For me, this is nothing less than a miracle. The woman I love and a man I’d never met changed my life today. They helped me slay a secret, decades-old, scheming, slobbering personal fear.
There are a handful of manageable issues to deal with in the weeks ahead. It’s easy stuff. Maintenance will also be easy. My choppers are in surprisingly good shape. And if they weren’t — if the news had been much worse — I believe in my heart that I would have accepted and embraced this, and taken steps to make things right.
For in the end, I realized that my fears were absolutely real … but the monster fueling them wasn’t.
I share this story with you because I know that you too have a scheming, slobbering personal fear. There’s a beast prowling in the confines of your head that has dominated you and your actions for years. We all have at least one; I have several.
Perhaps you’re terrified to love someone. Or leave your shitty job, or shitty spouse. Or go to the doctor to diagnose that mysterious lump. Or start writing, singing, pursuing a passion or starting a business. The fear you’re feeling is legitimate, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. But the beast behind that fear may be a vapor, an engine powered by nothing more than decades of the worst kind of self-affirmation, and ignorance — a fundamental lack of understanding.
I don’t think you need to know the “why” to overcome this fear. I think you just need someone to believe in you: either a loved one, or yourself.
There are people in your life who believe in you. I believe in you. You can believe in you, too.
So come on, come with me. We’re going to the dentist.
–J.C.
Way to go, JC!
Glad you were able to slay that fear.
I’m scared of going to the dentist, not because I’m afraid of them or the pain (I WILL get enough novocaine), but because of the bill. Oi! It’s been about 10yrs since I went, and there was a lot of work to do then.
Way to slay that dragon JC!!!
I am so proud of you.
Marathon Man – was/is the source of my fear. “Is it safe?” I was at the dentist yesterday too having had 3 implants 2 weeks ago. I am now part titanium.
Far from being a Lee Majors, I am a 6,000 dollar man
Right this minute I have pain in my left upper teeth. I’ve been putting it off for a week so far. Maybe I’ll call tomorrow for an appointment. Maybe.
Please don’t “maybe” yourself for 20 years like I did, Laura. It’s no way to live.
Holy crap. So, I have a story.
In 2003, I went to my dentist, which I did quite regularly. I had a tooth pain that I was pretty sure came from grinding. He did an xray, and then while poking around an old filling, he accidentally popped it off, saw my bar exposed nerve, and had to give me an emergency root canal.
I’ll skip a few details, but the pain and suffering I endured during that visit has kept me out of the chair for over 7 years.
I didn’t have fears. I had pure raw facts and memories. This guy hurt me in ways that would make Saw VII a possibility. He did everything professionally. My teeth and nerves just didn’t play along.
So, now I read your post. NOW… I’m thinking, well, okay, I guess I will have to go back. JC did it. And he’s kind of my role model, so I should do it, too.
Damn it.
Thanks for sharing your story, Chris. I’m touched that you might consider returning to the dentist after reading the post. With the right dentist — like the one I was fortunate enough to work with yesterday — those bad memories can take a backseat to newer, more positive ones.
Probably the greatest disability in my life is my dentalphobia. In my case, although irrational, I know the cause completely. They make a lot of jokes about British dental care, but in my case it wasn’t so much that my childhood dentist was inexperienced or incompetent , it’s that I’m sure to this day that he was a sadist.
My family have never had great teeth – my mother had dentures in her teens (mind you, this was in the 40s) and so from as early as I can remember to the age of 18, my mother took me fairly regularly to a scottish dentist in the local town. I can still vividly remember every cavity he filled, the crowns he gave me at 17, and every extraction. Because this was a Dentist that apparently had never heard of novocaine. So while the extractions were done while I was unconscious from noxious gas, every other procedure he ever did to me was – from cleaning to drilling to prodding and poking, was done cold, with no pain killer before or after.
To this day, Scottish accents set me on edge, I break out into a cold sweat at the sound of a drill, and I can’t sit through that scene in Marathon Man. I have tried a few times to sit in a dentists chair since, but I’m so consumed with real, phobic terror that I just can’t go through with it.
Sweet Jesus, Steve. I’m so sorry. My mother also lost all her teeth at an early age, which — for some reason — frightened me to my core.
For me, it was finding the right dentist — or more specifically, my girlfriend finding the right one, and booking an appointment without telling me. (For which I’m ultimately grateful.) This guy and his team were heroically patient with me as I had an absolute freakout in the examination room. I was a physical and emotional mess.
I appreciated the guy’s manner and thoughtfulness so much, I’m considering keeping him as my dentist … even though we’re moving to Colorado. Yes, flying back to Florida a few times a year, just to take care of those choppers. He made that kind of positive impact on me. Will happily refer you, if you feel the trek to Florida would be worth it.
I completely sympathize with your terror, my friend. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.
Hey guys,
I too had some of that terrible fear in the pit of your stomach about visiting the dentist. My childhood dentist was a cousin of mine, so I don’t think we had much choice who we went to! I don’t think he was that bad, just things back then hurt a lot more than I wanted. I grew up with well water instead of fluoridated water, and had to have a number of cavities filled when I hit puberty. But when I went to college, I started grinding my teeth, and HAD to find a good dentist. And every one I have had since has been better and better.
I now have a wonderful dentist, who cares about my family and keeping us in good shape and pain-free, and it has done wonders to help us keep our teeth in great shape. I’m trying to make sure my kids don’t get the “dentist fear,” and am extremely grateful that the now, dentists and hygienists recognize that dental phobia is a big problem, and try to help people handle it!
Finding a good dentist office that YOU feel comfortable with is definitely worth it! Congrats, J.C., and I’m glad you don’t have any major problems to handle!