I am one of those people

....who has panic attacks in the dentist office. I get in the chair, start discussing the procedure and my heart accelerates, my pores spew forth sweat beads and my breathing increases.

Its horrifying... and it means I've gone a year with part of the dentin exposed in my tooth from a worn out filling, simply because I've been too terrified to return.

It wasn't always so... I used to be brave.

I've had my belly button pierced, my tongue pierced, many tattoos, heck I've endured 4 days of labor! Why am I afraid of the stinking dentist?

It's not the drill.. I can handle the drill.. once the drill comes out, you don't feel pain.. its just numb.


It's the DAMN NEEDLE in my mouth that kills me.

My current dentist is a nice fella.. in fact he spent half the visit surfing facebook with me while we waited for my mouth to numb up.

But he novocains differently than any one I've ever been too. He doesn't put the needle in the side of my cheek.. which all though it sucks, doesn't kill. No, he does it in the corner of my jaw... If you were to open your mouth wide, it would be in the area inside your mouth where you can feel the joint behind your teeth.. where your mouth hinges.

There is some sort of odd flexy stiff material under the mouth tissue.... and he jams the needle right into it.... the thought of it makes me shutter and want to vomit.

Worse yet, and this is something I learned today, red heads don't react to anesthesia the same as everyone else. It takes more for us. (consequently, we bleed more too, apparently we're just freaks.)

So he numbed me... but it wasn't enough. He did a cold test on the tooth and I felt it, so he numbed me twice more!!! I got three times the amount of Novocaine as the average person would receive. Now the joint of my jaw is aching so bad I couldn't open it wide enough to take a bite off of a banana today, I had to slice the banana and ease the slices in...WTF!!!!

It doesn't help, and please excuse my whining, that I'm ever so slightly allergic to shots.. I know, sounds like I'm making that up to get out of the pain. But I'm not. There is some sort of liquid they mix shots with in order to inject them, and I'm allergic to it. Not horribly, but enough to make the injection sites very very sore and puffy..so yeah, the jaw... not a happy place right now.... pain people... pain!!!

To add to the distress, my face, half my mouth, most of my tongue, and even parts of my head under my hair line were numb, for 6 freaking hours!!!! And when your tongue has no sensation, this means you can't eat. Or I could have, but I risked accidentally consuming bits and pieces of my cheek and tongue.. a risk not worth taking if you ask me.

So I was starving all day, yet couldn't eat a thing...dear Lord!

At 5 I finally cooked some supper, I consumed 2 hamburgers (small ones) and a plate of baked fries.. baked beans and a half hand full of chocolate teddy grahams.

I was ravenous.

Anyhow, all this complaining has brought me to the main purpose of this post. The talk of anesthesia got me thinking about the time I had my wisdom teeth out, which is quite the funny story.

I was young.. mid 20's... and I'd been dating Boo (Barney) for about 4 or 5 months.

We had passed the "fart in front of each other" step in our relationship (yes I do beleive that is an actual step.)

The day before the big "surgery" we ate a ton of food because I knew I'd be living off of cream of wheat and ice cream for a while afterwards.

Well, let me tell you, I don't know what out of the enormous amounts of crap I ate that did it, but I had a MEAN case of gas the day of the surgery.

The type of gas that's hot when it comes out, smells sour and horrid, and leaves a little smirk on your face while you wait for the stentch to hit your significant other in the nostrils like a sledge hammer.

Oh yes.. it was BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddd

And I could not stop it! No matter how much came out, another was right behind it knocking on the door.

In fact, while in the waiting room at the dentist, I had to go to the ladies room no less than 10 times to expel said gas... I pity whomeever used that rest room after me.

And then I had to go in for the procedure.

I know, with all my heart and soul, that I expelled large amounts of noxious smelly gas while under sedation, and that poor assistant and dentist had to stay in that room with me to extract my wisdom teeth.

I think of those poor people...and what I put them through.

There are two possible outcomes.

1... they could have quietly endured, and then promplty stepped outside for some fresh air once I was removed to the recovery room.

2.... they still talk about me at dinner parties while laughing with thier friends.

I'm gonna with number 2.... I've never been back to that dentist.

Afterwards, Barney collected me and my half "out of it" self from the recovery room and brought me home.. he cared for me for two days.. while I laid in bed... he gave me narcotic pain killers, fixed me bowls of slush, and rented me movies.

(consquently, Finding Nemo is hysterical while on percosets).

The one thing he wouldnt' do for me was change my gauze.. he almost threw up while I reluctantly pulled them out myself after 10 mintues of begging him for help with no luck.. he's a squeemish fella.

and that's my wisdom teeth story....

Where's the fabreeze?