Vindicated

There was a study done that drew a connection between hair color and aversion to dentistry. More specifically, the presence of the MC1R gene is the reason that red-heads have an aversion to dental work. This gene produces melanin, which gives color to skin, hair and eyes: red hair (somewhat check), pale skin (check!), freckles (check!) and blue eyes (check). While I don't have Bozo/Annie/Sideshow Bob colored hair, there is still a lot of red in my hair. I finally feel more than a little vindicated and much less like a big baby.

You see, I have always hated the dentist. I imagine that some of you are nodding your heads in agreement...but let me just stop you right there. I don't just have your average aversion to having your teeth and gums scraped and the so-called "pinch" from the occasional shot of novocaine. The drive to the dentist makes tears spring to my eyes. I start to sweat profusely and my blood pressure goes through the roof. You know those bite-wing x-rays where they put those little plastic things in your mouth to take x-rays of specific teeth? The moderately rough edges that dig into my mouth make me cry. My gag reflex kicks in whenever I smell that same smell from the flouride treatments I would endure as a child. I still clearly remember hanging over a sink, with too-big mouth trays full of poorly flavored flouride gel with some other poor child (typically my sister) at the sink next to me. I would rest my head on the faucet willing the timer to go faster.

It seems that any one of my dentists (and there have been many!) never fully believes me when I explain my higher-than-average anxiety related to dentistry. He pats my shoulder and gives me the same platitudes that he offers to any normal person. I've grown tired of trying to explain to the dentist that I'm not, in fact, a typical patient that is comforted by those inane comments.

It could be that I have just been through more traumatic dental events than the average person. A quick run-down of these events are:

1. My bottom front baby teeth didn't ever come out on their own. The adult teeth that should have pushed them out just grew in behind the baby teeth. I ended up have all four of them pulled. (I was truly horrified to hear that my little niece has just gone through the same thing.)
   
2. I didn't just get braces. I had oral surgery after the spacers were put in so that a hole could be made in the roof of my mouth. A post was attached to a tooth that had embedded itself in my sinus instead of growing downward. For the next two years, that tooth slowly was pulled down and in place by the metal that had taken up residence in my mouth.
3. While the details are still disputed around this event the end result is still the same. I caught the business end of a flying folding chair the day before my braces were put on and shortly after that hole was installed. I lost the lower half of my front tooth which was then embedded in my lower lip. The scar still shows when I'm wearing certain shades of lipstick. The tooth chips on a regular basis and is in constant need of patching. The option for permanent replacement makes my eyes tear up - titanium post screwed into my jaw?...yuck and no thanks.
4. I've had two root canals. The first one I had a single shot of novocaine that didn't help at all. The dentist continued despite my protests. The pain continued for nearly three days after the 2 hour procedure.
   

I have explained these events to my latest dentist - who seemed to genuinely want to hear why I didn't come to the dentist more often. Instead of the usual routine and script, my dentist made the comment that those dentists were sadistic and that he would be different. While I am still skeptical I feel a little more trust than I've ever felt before.

As my next appointment quickly approaches I find thoughts of why I should skip it creeping up in my mind. Thankfully, my husband is aware of the appointment and will make me go anyway.