I’m not in much of a writing mood right now, I have a tooth ache.
It’s my own fault, I know it. When a tooth breaks off you should go to the dentist right away instead of sitting around waiting for the pain to come. Not me.
Stupid fear of the dentist leaves me waiting until the pain is unbearable and then I’ll think about calling the dentist.
This morning as the Hubby was getting ready to leave for work I get up to take yet another handful of pain pills so that I’ll be able to sleep at least until the sun starts to show it’s glowing little face over the horizon.
Hubby decides to take a look in my mouth and realizes that there is a broken tooth inside there, something that I’d been keeping a secret from him because I know as soon as he found out he’s start to nag me about seeing a dentist.
As Hubby walks out the door he tells me to call the dentist and make an appointment.
Well that left me with the inability to sleep for at least another hour after he left.
My heart started to pound in my chest at about a million beats per micro second. I think it was a mini panic attack brought on by the mere thought of calling a dentist.
My last trip to the dentist and the horrible pain after wards is too fresh in my memory. Right now my mouth hurts, but I’m afraid that if I go to the dentist my whole side of my head will hurt again.
The whole grizzly memory of my visit, with the whirring of the drills and the sound of the suction machine still buzzing around in my brain make my hands tremble and I freeze with my fingers mere inches away from picking up the phone.
I can’t do it. And I know it’s going to piss the Hubby off when he comes home to find that I’ve done nothing towards seeing a dentist. But I can’t. He’ll have to do it for me.
I think that this time I may have to take the dentist up on the offer of taking something to calm my nerves prior to the visit or else I just can’t see myself walking into that office without having a nervous breakdown.
I hate that this is how I am. I hate that I can’t even do something as simple as call a damn dentist. I hate that I can’t walk through a door when it’s the best thing for me.
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and in this case I think it’ll end up being a little pill from the druggist that makes the tooth stop hurting.