J
JaySee19
Member
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2020
- Messages
- 88
- Location
- Germany
Time to introduce myself as I’ve been lurking here for a while. And first of all thanks to all the members and dentists on here for their insights and ideas. It was so good to see that I’m not alone in my fear of the dentist. And even to discover that in comparison to many I am not actually that bad. Some of you are soooo brave. Plus I’m in a very privileged position as I live in Germany, can pick and choose from a number of dentists within walking distance, and the German health service covers at least some of the cost. I also made one of my rare intelligent decisions about 20 years ago and got myself private insurance, specifically for dental issues. They may kick me out soon, though!
Dental phobia/anxiety has accompanied me since the days of the school dentist, late 60s, early 70s in England. Those guys were sadists in a big way and there is nothing worse than some ancient guy drilling into a tooth while you’re in agony and telling you to pull yourself together, he’s nearly finished. When he hasn’t. He’s lying. It’s very hard to trust after that. I came out of those sessions in shock.
Added to that my mother was seriously dental phobic. I never knew her go to the dentist and she certainly didn’t take us. Over the years her teeth rotted in her jaw and I was always horrified when I returned home for a visit to see the state they were in. At the end they were just black stumps and she talked with a lisp. She must have been in so much pain but it was not a subject we ever addressed. This was odd as both parents had a medical background, she was a nurse, Dad was a doctor and they both kept our bodies fit and healthy. But not our teeth.
So not a good start.
After the school dentist I decided I “hated“ dentists and wouldn’t go. There were blocks of time where I did get my teeth fixed though - my father arranged appointments before university. And my husband caught me walking round the living room late one night 13 years later, in agony with an abscess, and made an appointment with his dentist. Strange to say if an appointment exists I do go. I can’t bring myself to make that call on my own though.
After my husband‘s actions I got my teeth sorted and was actually very good. The kids were young and I didn’t want to pass my fear on to them, so I forced myself to go to our annual family check-ups. They weren’t fooled - I think they could smell my terror - but neither of them have developed my deep-seated fear.
But then we moved house, the young dentist who had sorted me after my abscess left the practice. The new guy was competent, but we didn’t click, one year I put off making the call for an appointment, then the next year.
And wham, I’m right back there.
I cannot pick up the phone. I go out of the room if the talk turns to dentists and teeth. Toothpaste adverts make me quake inside. The thought of going to the dentist, the smells, the chair, the helplessness - I can‘t face that thought. My mind sheers away, I am in full avoidance mode. Things start to go wrong in my mouth. What felt like a piece of nut is a chunk of tooth. Two months later the opposite tooth breaks off. But nobody can see, so it’s OK. The missing pieces feel huge in my mouth, but nothing hurts, so it’s OK.
Then a huge filling gets pulled out by a sticky sweet. I’m at work. I stare in horror as the filling sits on my desk, then stuff it out of sight in my purse. It’s a bank holiday weekend, I’m standing in for a colleague for the next 3 weeks. I haven’t got time for a dentist. Head in the sand - but I know it’s bad now.
And it is. I KNOW things can’t get better, teeth can’t heal themselves, that that tooth is now exposed to all sorts of nasty stuff.
To cut a long story short, that tooth did finally force me to a dentist after about 12 years of not going. A huge abscess formed on the gum at the back of my teeth, it spread up to my hard palette, infection caused sinusitis, I was lisping, swallowing was difficult, my subconscious had me dreaming about bacteria eating into my - well, this is probably getting too graphic.
So things are being sorted again. But the reason I’m on here is to try and understand why on earth I let things get into such a state. I don’t ever want to go back there. But it happens again and again. I’m angry at myself because this has happened before. What can I do this time round to break the pattern?
Don‘t get me wrong, every appointment has me in a total panic. I can’t think of anything else for days in advance. I freeze and become super compliant. The reality is normally not too bad. My dentist doesn’t hurt me. He’s gentle, answers my questions (I have to force myself to ask them, though - I just want to curl into a ball and get things over and done with), takes time for me and as far as I can tell he’s doing a great job. I also trusted him from the start, which is very unusual. He still scares the wits out of me though.
By the way, this forum taught me not to say “I hate dentists” to him and see things from the other perspective.
Dental phobia/anxiety has accompanied me since the days of the school dentist, late 60s, early 70s in England. Those guys were sadists in a big way and there is nothing worse than some ancient guy drilling into a tooth while you’re in agony and telling you to pull yourself together, he’s nearly finished. When he hasn’t. He’s lying. It’s very hard to trust after that. I came out of those sessions in shock.
Added to that my mother was seriously dental phobic. I never knew her go to the dentist and she certainly didn’t take us. Over the years her teeth rotted in her jaw and I was always horrified when I returned home for a visit to see the state they were in. At the end they were just black stumps and she talked with a lisp. She must have been in so much pain but it was not a subject we ever addressed. This was odd as both parents had a medical background, she was a nurse, Dad was a doctor and they both kept our bodies fit and healthy. But not our teeth.
So not a good start.
After the school dentist I decided I “hated“ dentists and wouldn’t go. There were blocks of time where I did get my teeth fixed though - my father arranged appointments before university. And my husband caught me walking round the living room late one night 13 years later, in agony with an abscess, and made an appointment with his dentist. Strange to say if an appointment exists I do go. I can’t bring myself to make that call on my own though.
After my husband‘s actions I got my teeth sorted and was actually very good. The kids were young and I didn’t want to pass my fear on to them, so I forced myself to go to our annual family check-ups. They weren’t fooled - I think they could smell my terror - but neither of them have developed my deep-seated fear.
But then we moved house, the young dentist who had sorted me after my abscess left the practice. The new guy was competent, but we didn’t click, one year I put off making the call for an appointment, then the next year.
And wham, I’m right back there.
I cannot pick up the phone. I go out of the room if the talk turns to dentists and teeth. Toothpaste adverts make me quake inside. The thought of going to the dentist, the smells, the chair, the helplessness - I can‘t face that thought. My mind sheers away, I am in full avoidance mode. Things start to go wrong in my mouth. What felt like a piece of nut is a chunk of tooth. Two months later the opposite tooth breaks off. But nobody can see, so it’s OK. The missing pieces feel huge in my mouth, but nothing hurts, so it’s OK.
Then a huge filling gets pulled out by a sticky sweet. I’m at work. I stare in horror as the filling sits on my desk, then stuff it out of sight in my purse. It’s a bank holiday weekend, I’m standing in for a colleague for the next 3 weeks. I haven’t got time for a dentist. Head in the sand - but I know it’s bad now.
And it is. I KNOW things can’t get better, teeth can’t heal themselves, that that tooth is now exposed to all sorts of nasty stuff.
To cut a long story short, that tooth did finally force me to a dentist after about 12 years of not going. A huge abscess formed on the gum at the back of my teeth, it spread up to my hard palette, infection caused sinusitis, I was lisping, swallowing was difficult, my subconscious had me dreaming about bacteria eating into my - well, this is probably getting too graphic.
So things are being sorted again. But the reason I’m on here is to try and understand why on earth I let things get into such a state. I don’t ever want to go back there. But it happens again and again. I’m angry at myself because this has happened before. What can I do this time round to break the pattern?
Don‘t get me wrong, every appointment has me in a total panic. I can’t think of anything else for days in advance. I freeze and become super compliant. The reality is normally not too bad. My dentist doesn’t hurt me. He’s gentle, answers my questions (I have to force myself to ask them, though - I just want to curl into a ball and get things over and done with), takes time for me and as far as I can tell he’s doing a great job. I also trusted him from the start, which is very unusual. He still scares the wits out of me though.
By the way, this forum taught me not to say “I hate dentists” to him and see things from the other perspective.