A
APhobicQueen
Well-known member
- Joined
- Mar 2, 2022
- Messages
- 161
- Location
- Canada
Hello everyone!
I was debating about starting a journal here, but you know, I think it makes sense to document everything. Especially in a place where there are so many like me! Absolutely terrified, suffering from PTSD/extreme phobia of dentists, and needing support. So here we are. My first journal!
Wait, no—record scratch.
My second journal.
Turns out I made a journal on here for an old account that I do not remember back in 2012! Yup. That was the last time I’d been to a dentist before this year. A decade ago (I really didn’t think it’d been that long. Maybe six years, but not ten.) Back then, I’d been told my teeth were in far better shape than the dentist thought and I really only needed fillings. Ah, how I wish I had just gone through with the fillings (to be fair to me, the dentist left, and I developed more trauma from an incident with a hygienist, and they also never gave me a treatment plan, nor would give me IV sedation for procedures so—) There is a huge part of me that hates myself a little for not doing the things then anyway. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be here now.
But hating myself doesn’t make anything better. It doesn’t change what’s happened or going to happen. And dental issues run in my family anyway. So who knows what would have happened to me? My uncle has had full dentures since he was 20. My aunt (who passed away in 2018, not from any mouth issues) had dentures when she was 17. Most of my grandparents had them. My mom needs them. My brother had to have teeth removed too.
You see where this is going right? Right.
So let’s talk about me. I’d sort of had a plan for the future. I figured I’d just keep up with upkeep of my teeth in doing the bare minimum (brushing, flossing, mouth wash) and hope that they never got worse. I‘d just keep them as is. Ha! That’s funny. It’s funny because if I wasn’t so scared, I would’ve known that couldn’t happen. Especially when I didn’t brush or floss or use mouth wash every day let alone twice a day. God knows how often I actually brushed my teeth (and when my new dentist asked me for a number, I couldn’t really think of anything but to say maybe between 3-6 times a week which horrified me.) I wish when I’d gotten trauma from a dental hygienist as a child, I’d been the type who became obsessive about brushing her teeth, etc. That would’ve been easier. Might’ve prevented all this too. Instead I developed PTSD (I should note here I have PTSD and anxiety from other issues as well so yay me!) and it was severe enough that just looking at toothbrushes and putting anything into my mouth to clean my teeth sent me into flashback city. You may be wondering what happened to me. Let me be straight about it: at eight years old, a dental hygienist physically assaulted me by clamping her hands over my mouth forcing me to swallow a entire cup of fluoride that I had originally told her I could not put it in my mouth and hold there. I later threw up in public in front of a great many people, and became not only terrified of throwing up every again, but supremely embarrassed. So trauma.
Over the years I’ve managed a handful of times to go to dentists, mostly got cleanings done. I’ve never actually had any procedures done, but that’s going to change. It has to, because I can’t actually avoid this next part. It’s impossible.
Here’s what happened: I found a crack in my front left tooth. I freaked out. I cried for for an hour, sobbing, heaving with the knowledge I’d have to go to a dentist and god what would they do to me? Looking back I wish it had just been a simple “ah you need a crown or root canal” but nah. Of course not. See this tooth has a gaping crater in it. It’s been there for years and years. I clean it out with a floss pick when I do brush because it’s so deep. I always figured it could just be filled because it’d never gotten bigger in years and I mean I did clean it out and try you know? But then the crack. It runs all the way up the tooth, stops at the hole. It’s very thin, but when I put my tongue on the back of my tooth I can feel it. Mostly at the bottom of the tooth. I can also feel it when I run my finger over the surface on the front.
Let’s talk about my other teeth: right front tooth has a black/brown spot near the top. No crater but definitely not a great scenario. The tooth next to it on the right, has partially broken off (I think, it’s hard to tell but seems like it), and is just kinda there now. The tooth next to cracked tooth? Lost most of the enamel at the front and is arguably the most sore out of all of them. Skip a tooth because that one seems fine and then we come to another tooth that has lost quite a bit of enamel. On the right, there’s a tooth that seems caught in my gum and never moved down (I had an issue with my baby teeth as a young adult. They wouldn’t fall out and the adult teeth would come in creating issues) and has brown decay/black spots. I also have a bottom tooth that’s got some black/greyness near the gum line. Bottom of my teeth, my molars need some fillings.
Anyway. I noticed the crack. And I called a dental place that day. What a huge feat! I didn’t want to call. I really didn’t. But you can’t leave a crack as my mother said. So I called the place she’s been going to. They’re open 7 days a week, and stay open late, and my mother loves the dentist she has. They also have extremely high reviews on Google. Unfortunately for me, he only comes in once a week because he lives far away and works at another dental place. So when I called I was booked in to see a random dentist (I didn’t know who), the next day. I explained on the phone about my phobia and about how scared I was, etc, etc, and the receptionist was really nice. My appointment was the next day at 3 pm (later moved to 3:15); and really I wanted it to be early in the morning because less chance for me to get worked up then. I asked if I could take lorazepam which I’d been prescribed by my family physician for times of extreme stress. I was told no (I assume because they thought they might be working on my teeth that day?)
I barely slept that night. Was shaking like a leaf the next day. Constant stress. Even writing it now, I feel the stress rising again. The tide of it just surging because of remembrance. I could barely shower, didn’t really eat (not that I‘ve been eating much the last month anyway, I just got out of a severe mental downturn only to be met with this. When it rains, it pours!) My mother drove me to the dentist and I had previously told the receptionist she was coming in with me, no matter what. The only thing that made me feel better was the fact we had to wear masks, no dentist could look at my mouth as long as I was wearing that right?
Turned out, I was seeing the owner of the practice. I think she’s only the second female dentist I’ve ever seen in my life actually. Her perfume was a bit strong. I was sitting in the chair backwards, refused to lie back or sit properly. Too anxious. Too many thoughts of vulnerability and not liking things in my mouth and gagging. I think, and perhaps this is the anxiety talking, but I think she was a wee bit annoyed at that. I did let her look in my mouth with the mirror but it was supremely hard.
And that’s when she gave me the news.
”That tooth has got to come out. As do others. You need partial dentures.”
What. The. Heck. (For the purposes here, I’m not using the word I actually said in my head and to my mother later because you know.)
Partial. Dentures.
Tooth. Extraction.
No way, no way, no way!
She tells me ”you can’t be surprised” which yes, yes I can? Denial can be a brick wall that fogs your mind and mine was very fogged. I think deep down I knew that my front tooth was in trouble, and the tooth next to it (the sore one.) but I was so hoping. I’ve seen others who have had worse teeth than me not need them extracted! But alas, no. Mine are too far gone, too broken. Oh, wait, when I say mine, I mean the six she told me had to come out. Which surprised me. My other front tooth? I thought it might just need a filling. There’s no crater, I didn’t see a crack. But she says to me that the six teeth if they aren’t broken will be very soon. My mother was also surprised (afterwards she and my father told me they almost want a second opinion. But then I remember reading of others who have sunk thousands on root canals and crowns only to find out it’s a temporary fix and there was never any hope in saving the tooth long term.) She did mention this. She mentioned extraction is the last thing any dentist wants to do. That they want to save the teeth if at all possible. Which made me feel worse because wow okay my teeth must be terrible.
And then she does something I wish she hadn’t. She asked if I was in pain. I said no, just a bit sore (mainly with that tooth next to my cracked/broken one.) She looks surprised and says I must have a high pain tolerance because I “should be” in agony right now. Then she goes on to tell me I have an infection. And I’m of course completely panicked at that point. Infection? You mean that thing that causes people to die if left untreated? You mean that very painful, dangerous thing that causes pus in your mouth and, and—
You know she didn’t prescribe me any antibiotics. None. Weird right? You’d think if I had an infection, you’d do that but I guess not. Not to mention, my gums. I mean they‘re not great on my those teeth. It’s pretty red around that sore tooth, but they never looked like they were completely infected in the “doomed” way she seemed to be telling me. I do wonder if part of that was a scare tactic on her part. I’ve had a lot of dentists do that. Scare the patient into taking care of their teeth. Even though hahaha, it doesn’t work. Often it makes them feel hopeless like mine did, which just makes things worse.
Anyway since then, those teeth have been varying degrees of sore, which I was assured by my mother is definitely partially because I can’t stop thinking of them. Because I was told I should be in pain, now I‘m in pain. Sometimes it’s not even those teeth, sometimes it’s my bottoms or back front molars, which I think are okay. She told me I had good bone height on my bottoms and it was very, very important I keep that. Which of course. I do not want to lose anymore teeth!
I managed to have a panoramic x-ray done (almost fainted because I was so anxious since I was standing up but you know I did do it), which revealed my bottom wisdom teeth would have to come out (lowest priority though. They’re on a collision course with my bottom molars right now as they’re completely horizontal which I thought was a bit hilarious because how do they get like that? The human body is funny sometimes.) She insisted that she couldn’t really say much else because I couldn’t do the other x-rays. Too high a gag reflex (I did like that they didn’t force me with that and took me seriously.) She called in the treatment coordinator, Carrie, who was very lovely, although there was one part from her I didn’t like too much. I was having a hard time opening my mouth wide enough to let the dentist put the mirror in to look, I was just so she’ll shocked and anxious I didn’t want to. She told me to “suck it up, it’s just a mirror” which, yeah sure. I didn’t like her for that but afterwards she seemed nicer?
Anyway, as the dentist looked at my teeth again, she said it might only be four that have to come out but again, she could not tell without those x-rays. Immediately she says to me “we’d put you under.” And I said “general? As in completely out?” And she said yes. I’m clearly too anxious for anything else in her opinion, and if I go completely out they could do multiple things at once, including bite wing x-rays which right now they can’t do because I cannot stick that thing in my mouth. I agreed with her, because that’s the best case scenario for me. I don’t want to be aware, I don’t want to know what’s happening. I wanna be out and then I wanna wake up and have it be done. I’ve been under general before (in 2013, I had major surgery to remove a tumour from my pituitary gland), I know how it goes and works.
Sadly for me, a problem. Money. I have no benefits. I’m unemployed because I’d rather work for myself than anyone else, and because I do have some other health issues that mean I don’t know when I wake up if it’ll be a good day or bad day. Not knowing means working is hard even if I do have a lovely employer (as I did previously.) My mental health was terrible though. So I quit in 2020, to pursue my real dreams of working for myself. Unfortunately, it hasn’t happened yet. And unfortunately, there are no benefits in employing yourself. So my parents and I (bless them for helping pay for anything) would have to pay out of pocket. I live in Canada, and years and years ago they took away dental being covered under our free healthcare system because apparently it wasn’t important enough (I don’t know why, it’s cheaper for the provinces to pay for dental than it is for them to pay for hospital rooms but okay.) They also took away that if you go under general in say a hospital, it’s free. Nah, what happens at this practice is the nurses, etc come to the practice once a month to do general. All they do on that day is those procedures. The dentist explained they basically turn into a hospital on that day.
Anyway. After finding all of this out, I went and talked to Carrie with my mom. She gave us a total quote of 10,000 dollars. I wanted to cry. We don’t have that kind of money. She said it’s cheaper to go for IV sedation and I’d be so “doped up” I’d remember nothing anyway but the thought of being conscious at all just scared me. My mom was unimpressed that Carrie wouldn’t give a line by line breakdown but I think that was because she knew I was shell shocked by the information I had been given. She did say the most important thing is to get me out of any pain and yeah that is important. Anyway, they were all booked up for GA in April, and May 27th (guess what? that’s pretty close to my birthday!) was the next date. My mom assured me later during one of my ramblings of “oh god these teeth have to come out and I’m scared because what if they’re infecting me right now” that they would not tell me to wait till May 27th if it was bad. No way. But you know.
Anyway. We went home. I cried a lot. I was hopeless. Depressed. I really thought my life, my dreams, everything was over. Seemed like it. There was no way this could happen, so what am I going to do? I had some dark thoughts, I will not discuss but yeah. I couldn’t see myself going through the procedures, I couldn’t see myself with partials. It wasn’t great.
I was debating about starting a journal here, but you know, I think it makes sense to document everything. Especially in a place where there are so many like me! Absolutely terrified, suffering from PTSD/extreme phobia of dentists, and needing support. So here we are. My first journal!
Wait, no—record scratch.
My second journal.
Turns out I made a journal on here for an old account that I do not remember back in 2012! Yup. That was the last time I’d been to a dentist before this year. A decade ago (I really didn’t think it’d been that long. Maybe six years, but not ten.) Back then, I’d been told my teeth were in far better shape than the dentist thought and I really only needed fillings. Ah, how I wish I had just gone through with the fillings (to be fair to me, the dentist left, and I developed more trauma from an incident with a hygienist, and they also never gave me a treatment plan, nor would give me IV sedation for procedures so—) There is a huge part of me that hates myself a little for not doing the things then anyway. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be here now.
But hating myself doesn’t make anything better. It doesn’t change what’s happened or going to happen. And dental issues run in my family anyway. So who knows what would have happened to me? My uncle has had full dentures since he was 20. My aunt (who passed away in 2018, not from any mouth issues) had dentures when she was 17. Most of my grandparents had them. My mom needs them. My brother had to have teeth removed too.
You see where this is going right? Right.
So let’s talk about me. I’d sort of had a plan for the future. I figured I’d just keep up with upkeep of my teeth in doing the bare minimum (brushing, flossing, mouth wash) and hope that they never got worse. I‘d just keep them as is. Ha! That’s funny. It’s funny because if I wasn’t so scared, I would’ve known that couldn’t happen. Especially when I didn’t brush or floss or use mouth wash every day let alone twice a day. God knows how often I actually brushed my teeth (and when my new dentist asked me for a number, I couldn’t really think of anything but to say maybe between 3-6 times a week which horrified me.) I wish when I’d gotten trauma from a dental hygienist as a child, I’d been the type who became obsessive about brushing her teeth, etc. That would’ve been easier. Might’ve prevented all this too. Instead I developed PTSD (I should note here I have PTSD and anxiety from other issues as well so yay me!) and it was severe enough that just looking at toothbrushes and putting anything into my mouth to clean my teeth sent me into flashback city. You may be wondering what happened to me. Let me be straight about it: at eight years old, a dental hygienist physically assaulted me by clamping her hands over my mouth forcing me to swallow a entire cup of fluoride that I had originally told her I could not put it in my mouth and hold there. I later threw up in public in front of a great many people, and became not only terrified of throwing up every again, but supremely embarrassed. So trauma.
Over the years I’ve managed a handful of times to go to dentists, mostly got cleanings done. I’ve never actually had any procedures done, but that’s going to change. It has to, because I can’t actually avoid this next part. It’s impossible.
Here’s what happened: I found a crack in my front left tooth. I freaked out. I cried for for an hour, sobbing, heaving with the knowledge I’d have to go to a dentist and god what would they do to me? Looking back I wish it had just been a simple “ah you need a crown or root canal” but nah. Of course not. See this tooth has a gaping crater in it. It’s been there for years and years. I clean it out with a floss pick when I do brush because it’s so deep. I always figured it could just be filled because it’d never gotten bigger in years and I mean I did clean it out and try you know? But then the crack. It runs all the way up the tooth, stops at the hole. It’s very thin, but when I put my tongue on the back of my tooth I can feel it. Mostly at the bottom of the tooth. I can also feel it when I run my finger over the surface on the front.
Let’s talk about my other teeth: right front tooth has a black/brown spot near the top. No crater but definitely not a great scenario. The tooth next to it on the right, has partially broken off (I think, it’s hard to tell but seems like it), and is just kinda there now. The tooth next to cracked tooth? Lost most of the enamel at the front and is arguably the most sore out of all of them. Skip a tooth because that one seems fine and then we come to another tooth that has lost quite a bit of enamel. On the right, there’s a tooth that seems caught in my gum and never moved down (I had an issue with my baby teeth as a young adult. They wouldn’t fall out and the adult teeth would come in creating issues) and has brown decay/black spots. I also have a bottom tooth that’s got some black/greyness near the gum line. Bottom of my teeth, my molars need some fillings.
Anyway. I noticed the crack. And I called a dental place that day. What a huge feat! I didn’t want to call. I really didn’t. But you can’t leave a crack as my mother said. So I called the place she’s been going to. They’re open 7 days a week, and stay open late, and my mother loves the dentist she has. They also have extremely high reviews on Google. Unfortunately for me, he only comes in once a week because he lives far away and works at another dental place. So when I called I was booked in to see a random dentist (I didn’t know who), the next day. I explained on the phone about my phobia and about how scared I was, etc, etc, and the receptionist was really nice. My appointment was the next day at 3 pm (later moved to 3:15); and really I wanted it to be early in the morning because less chance for me to get worked up then. I asked if I could take lorazepam which I’d been prescribed by my family physician for times of extreme stress. I was told no (I assume because they thought they might be working on my teeth that day?)
I barely slept that night. Was shaking like a leaf the next day. Constant stress. Even writing it now, I feel the stress rising again. The tide of it just surging because of remembrance. I could barely shower, didn’t really eat (not that I‘ve been eating much the last month anyway, I just got out of a severe mental downturn only to be met with this. When it rains, it pours!) My mother drove me to the dentist and I had previously told the receptionist she was coming in with me, no matter what. The only thing that made me feel better was the fact we had to wear masks, no dentist could look at my mouth as long as I was wearing that right?
Turned out, I was seeing the owner of the practice. I think she’s only the second female dentist I’ve ever seen in my life actually. Her perfume was a bit strong. I was sitting in the chair backwards, refused to lie back or sit properly. Too anxious. Too many thoughts of vulnerability and not liking things in my mouth and gagging. I think, and perhaps this is the anxiety talking, but I think she was a wee bit annoyed at that. I did let her look in my mouth with the mirror but it was supremely hard.
And that’s when she gave me the news.
”That tooth has got to come out. As do others. You need partial dentures.”
What. The. Heck. (For the purposes here, I’m not using the word I actually said in my head and to my mother later because you know.)
Partial. Dentures.
Tooth. Extraction.
No way, no way, no way!
She tells me ”you can’t be surprised” which yes, yes I can? Denial can be a brick wall that fogs your mind and mine was very fogged. I think deep down I knew that my front tooth was in trouble, and the tooth next to it (the sore one.) but I was so hoping. I’ve seen others who have had worse teeth than me not need them extracted! But alas, no. Mine are too far gone, too broken. Oh, wait, when I say mine, I mean the six she told me had to come out. Which surprised me. My other front tooth? I thought it might just need a filling. There’s no crater, I didn’t see a crack. But she says to me that the six teeth if they aren’t broken will be very soon. My mother was also surprised (afterwards she and my father told me they almost want a second opinion. But then I remember reading of others who have sunk thousands on root canals and crowns only to find out it’s a temporary fix and there was never any hope in saving the tooth long term.) She did mention this. She mentioned extraction is the last thing any dentist wants to do. That they want to save the teeth if at all possible. Which made me feel worse because wow okay my teeth must be terrible.
And then she does something I wish she hadn’t. She asked if I was in pain. I said no, just a bit sore (mainly with that tooth next to my cracked/broken one.) She looks surprised and says I must have a high pain tolerance because I “should be” in agony right now. Then she goes on to tell me I have an infection. And I’m of course completely panicked at that point. Infection? You mean that thing that causes people to die if left untreated? You mean that very painful, dangerous thing that causes pus in your mouth and, and—
You know she didn’t prescribe me any antibiotics. None. Weird right? You’d think if I had an infection, you’d do that but I guess not. Not to mention, my gums. I mean they‘re not great on my those teeth. It’s pretty red around that sore tooth, but they never looked like they were completely infected in the “doomed” way she seemed to be telling me. I do wonder if part of that was a scare tactic on her part. I’ve had a lot of dentists do that. Scare the patient into taking care of their teeth. Even though hahaha, it doesn’t work. Often it makes them feel hopeless like mine did, which just makes things worse.
Anyway since then, those teeth have been varying degrees of sore, which I was assured by my mother is definitely partially because I can’t stop thinking of them. Because I was told I should be in pain, now I‘m in pain. Sometimes it’s not even those teeth, sometimes it’s my bottoms or back front molars, which I think are okay. She told me I had good bone height on my bottoms and it was very, very important I keep that. Which of course. I do not want to lose anymore teeth!
I managed to have a panoramic x-ray done (almost fainted because I was so anxious since I was standing up but you know I did do it), which revealed my bottom wisdom teeth would have to come out (lowest priority though. They’re on a collision course with my bottom molars right now as they’re completely horizontal which I thought was a bit hilarious because how do they get like that? The human body is funny sometimes.) She insisted that she couldn’t really say much else because I couldn’t do the other x-rays. Too high a gag reflex (I did like that they didn’t force me with that and took me seriously.) She called in the treatment coordinator, Carrie, who was very lovely, although there was one part from her I didn’t like too much. I was having a hard time opening my mouth wide enough to let the dentist put the mirror in to look, I was just so she’ll shocked and anxious I didn’t want to. She told me to “suck it up, it’s just a mirror” which, yeah sure. I didn’t like her for that but afterwards she seemed nicer?
Anyway, as the dentist looked at my teeth again, she said it might only be four that have to come out but again, she could not tell without those x-rays. Immediately she says to me “we’d put you under.” And I said “general? As in completely out?” And she said yes. I’m clearly too anxious for anything else in her opinion, and if I go completely out they could do multiple things at once, including bite wing x-rays which right now they can’t do because I cannot stick that thing in my mouth. I agreed with her, because that’s the best case scenario for me. I don’t want to be aware, I don’t want to know what’s happening. I wanna be out and then I wanna wake up and have it be done. I’ve been under general before (in 2013, I had major surgery to remove a tumour from my pituitary gland), I know how it goes and works.
Sadly for me, a problem. Money. I have no benefits. I’m unemployed because I’d rather work for myself than anyone else, and because I do have some other health issues that mean I don’t know when I wake up if it’ll be a good day or bad day. Not knowing means working is hard even if I do have a lovely employer (as I did previously.) My mental health was terrible though. So I quit in 2020, to pursue my real dreams of working for myself. Unfortunately, it hasn’t happened yet. And unfortunately, there are no benefits in employing yourself. So my parents and I (bless them for helping pay for anything) would have to pay out of pocket. I live in Canada, and years and years ago they took away dental being covered under our free healthcare system because apparently it wasn’t important enough (I don’t know why, it’s cheaper for the provinces to pay for dental than it is for them to pay for hospital rooms but okay.) They also took away that if you go under general in say a hospital, it’s free. Nah, what happens at this practice is the nurses, etc come to the practice once a month to do general. All they do on that day is those procedures. The dentist explained they basically turn into a hospital on that day.
Anyway. After finding all of this out, I went and talked to Carrie with my mom. She gave us a total quote of 10,000 dollars. I wanted to cry. We don’t have that kind of money. She said it’s cheaper to go for IV sedation and I’d be so “doped up” I’d remember nothing anyway but the thought of being conscious at all just scared me. My mom was unimpressed that Carrie wouldn’t give a line by line breakdown but I think that was because she knew I was shell shocked by the information I had been given. She did say the most important thing is to get me out of any pain and yeah that is important. Anyway, they were all booked up for GA in April, and May 27th (guess what? that’s pretty close to my birthday!) was the next date. My mom assured me later during one of my ramblings of “oh god these teeth have to come out and I’m scared because what if they’re infecting me right now” that they would not tell me to wait till May 27th if it was bad. No way. But you know.
Anyway. We went home. I cried a lot. I was hopeless. Depressed. I really thought my life, my dreams, everything was over. Seemed like it. There was no way this could happen, so what am I going to do? I had some dark thoughts, I will not discuss but yeah. I couldn’t see myself going through the procedures, I couldn’t see myself with partials. It wasn’t great.
’Tis the anxiety making me think so. 