L
la_vie_en_rose
Member
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2020
- Messages
- 39
- Location
- French/German border
I decided that I needed to write about everything that has happened up until now, because whenever I have a dental problem/need to go to the dentist it all comes back to me (in the mean time, I manage to push it away and it's almost like I forgot about it). I don't know if anyone will ever read this but if someone does and thinks "oh wow, me too" that's something and I just feel like I should get it out of my system. I never really talked to anyone in real life about ALL of this.
Part 1--How I became a dental phobic
I started going to the dentist when I was three years old and for three years after that, I had no fear of the dentist. Dentist appointments meant having my teeth examined, polished and getting topical fluoride. I don't even remember having an x-ray and definitely no real "work" done. Then I got a crappy toy that would break or get lost the same day and was good for six months. The only time I was remotely upset about the dentist was when I had to miss part of school for it.
One could say that things were pretty good. Until the event that set off my phobia when I was six years old. I was at the food store with my mother and randomly said "My tooth hurts" (which it did). The next thing I remember was being at the dentist (though I am sure that we went home and my mother asked when she could bring me in etc). I'm sure that there was some kind of discussion, probably x-rays, but I don't remember any of it. What I do remember is being in the chair and the dentists saying that she will give me a shot. Up until that point I wasn't scared. I never had any reason to be. I offered her my arm, thinking "That's where you get shots". They wanted me to open my mouth and close my eyes, which freaked me out. I did not respond to any of their coaxing and finally the dentist lost her patience, said "All that bazar because of a shot" to the assistant, then told me that I would not be getting a shot. She proceeded to put torture devices that I now know are a bite block and a rubber dam in my mouth and started drilling.
You can imagine how well that went. I was in a lot of pain and started crying...meanwhile my mother was outside smoking. I blamed my mother for not protecting me for a long time, but thinking of it now as an adult, I cannot (especially since she feels absolutely awful now that she knows). She went to this dentist herself for years, before I was even born and had work done by her and took me there since I was three years old without there ever being a problem. This dentist is still practicing. I was looking at dentists online, saw her name and almost vomited when reading the mostly positive reviews.
When the "treatment" was finished the assistant tried to comfort me and get me to calm down while the dentist talked to my mother. Two of my six year molars (partially erupted at that point) had enamel hypoplasia. They were yellow-brown stained, very sensitive and got cavities very easily. They already had them when only partially erupted. The dentist wanted to have me come back to cement the other one and monitor them. More work on them in the future was to be expected.
My plan, however, was to never see any dentist again for the rest of my life. I was "allowed" to pick a cheap toy, which was thrown out of the car window while driving home.
That's how it began.
Sometimes I still wonder what my life would have been like if the dentist would have just realised that she was in over her head, stopped, and referred me to someone who was better with anxious children rather than cause what happened next.
Part 1--How I became a dental phobic
I started going to the dentist when I was three years old and for three years after that, I had no fear of the dentist. Dentist appointments meant having my teeth examined, polished and getting topical fluoride. I don't even remember having an x-ray and definitely no real "work" done. Then I got a crappy toy that would break or get lost the same day and was good for six months. The only time I was remotely upset about the dentist was when I had to miss part of school for it.
One could say that things were pretty good. Until the event that set off my phobia when I was six years old. I was at the food store with my mother and randomly said "My tooth hurts" (which it did). The next thing I remember was being at the dentist (though I am sure that we went home and my mother asked when she could bring me in etc). I'm sure that there was some kind of discussion, probably x-rays, but I don't remember any of it. What I do remember is being in the chair and the dentists saying that she will give me a shot. Up until that point I wasn't scared. I never had any reason to be. I offered her my arm, thinking "That's where you get shots". They wanted me to open my mouth and close my eyes, which freaked me out. I did not respond to any of their coaxing and finally the dentist lost her patience, said "All that bazar because of a shot" to the assistant, then told me that I would not be getting a shot. She proceeded to put torture devices that I now know are a bite block and a rubber dam in my mouth and started drilling.
You can imagine how well that went. I was in a lot of pain and started crying...meanwhile my mother was outside smoking. I blamed my mother for not protecting me for a long time, but thinking of it now as an adult, I cannot (especially since she feels absolutely awful now that she knows). She went to this dentist herself for years, before I was even born and had work done by her and took me there since I was three years old without there ever being a problem. This dentist is still practicing. I was looking at dentists online, saw her name and almost vomited when reading the mostly positive reviews.
When the "treatment" was finished the assistant tried to comfort me and get me to calm down while the dentist talked to my mother. Two of my six year molars (partially erupted at that point) had enamel hypoplasia. They were yellow-brown stained, very sensitive and got cavities very easily. They already had them when only partially erupted. The dentist wanted to have me come back to cement the other one and monitor them. More work on them in the future was to be expected.
My plan, however, was to never see any dentist again for the rest of my life. I was "allowed" to pick a cheap toy, which was thrown out of the car window while driving home.
That's how it began.
Sometimes I still wonder what my life would have been like if the dentist would have just realised that she was in over her head, stopped, and referred me to someone who was better with anxious children rather than cause what happened next.