My kids love our dentist. It is one of the great joys in my life, that my kids love our dentist.
I say this, because I have dentist-phobia. Or severe dental anxiety. Or whatever you call it when I would rather do anything anything anything at all except go to the dentist.
This fear is deeply rooted in my childhood, where most of our irrational fears reside. I had chronic tonsillitis as a child, and it was treated primarily with shots of tetracycline, which created quite a bit of damage to my teeth. As a result, I spent a LOT of time at the dentist. There is a story about one epically bad trip to the dentist that may or may not be entirely true, depending on how much my brain has embellished it over the years. The story is that on one particular trip, the dentist asked if I preferred the gas or the Novocaine that day. In my young, desperate, terribly misguided mind, I thought that if I refused both of them, they would let me get up and go home.
I was wrong.
Turns out refusing both of them just makes for a much more painful extraction.
So...I am afraid of the dentist. Even my grown-up, perfectly logical, rational self becomes nearly paralyzed with fear in the lobby of the dentist's office. My hands get clammy, my mouth gets dry, my heart rate increases, I stammer idiotically when asked a question...it's truly humiliating. I mean, what adult do you know needs to be gassed in order to get through a cleaning? Oh, well, that would be ME. My husband, on the other hand, LOVES the dentist. He had the full orthodontia experience, from some caring grandfatherly type, no doubt. He thinks I'm certifiable, of course.
Anyway. My kids LOVE our dentist. We were referred to this particular dentist through a friend.(Since we LOVE him, and this is going to be a rave review of his practice, I hope he doesn't mind if we mention him publicly...we see Dr. Paul Roggow in Jackson, MN)
The first time we took Emma, I thought I was going to have a heart attack in the lobby. Aaron warned me not to transfer my fears to my children so I was trying to hold back my stress, but I was terrified for her. Let me tell you, it was unwarranted. Not only did the appointment go well, but they took her picture in the chair, sent her home with a bag of goodies, and then a few days later, she received a handwritten card in the mail from them, thanking her for coming! She was hooked.
Every appointment we've had since then has been magical for my kids; when Emma broke a tooth and had an emergency extraction, I asked, "how was it?" She said, "it felt SO much better when he got it out!" Then Dr. Roggow called me later that night just to check on her and ask how she was feeling.
After Carys received her last "thank-you" note from them in the mail, she wrote them a letter back, explaining how hard she was working at brushing and how much she missed them. This is not the experience I remember from my own childhood, so I do take actual JOY in the fact that this is what we have found.
Yesterday, I took Cooper for his first cleaning. He has heard so much from his sisters already, that he went in with high expectations. He was outgoing and friendly, which is the politically correct way of saying he asked a million questions, giggled uncontrollably, and tried to impress the hygienist with his recently acquired armpit-fart talent.
I could only sit there, mortified, as my little man responded to her with his super-star best foot forward:
Jill: "Cooper, I'm going to get Mr. Sunshine ready so I can look at your teeth!"
Cooper: "You don't have to call it Mr. Sunshine. I know it's just a light."
Jill: "You are just like your sister!"
Cooper: "Which one? Because I'm actually not like one of them at all. We're only technically related."
Jill: "I was thinking of Carys." (She pronounced it Car-iss)
Cooper: "Her NAME is Carys. Who would ever name their kid CAR-ISS?"
Jill: "What flavor do you like, bubble-gum or cookie dough?"
Cooper: "Cookie dough is bad for your teeth! Why would you have cookie dough at the dentist?!"
And so on, and so on.
Keep in mind he giggled throughout, and flashed his dimples and batted his long eyelashes, so all this banter (which his mama calls sass) kept Jill in stitches as she worked on his teeth.
Last year I had a small chip on one of my lower teeth, and it bothered me so much that I finally broke down and went to Dr. Roggow to have it fixed. I will admit that the experience was the best I had ever had in the chair - although I still experienced terrible anxiety leading up to the procedure. They took advantage of my presence and did a full and thorough exam and cleaning, and let me know that I definitely have some work that needs to be done.
I shouldn't have expected anything less...while I brush and floss like a fiend, I don't actually make regular dental appointments part of my life, so I knew that I had some work to be done. I got the quote, said thank you, and went on my merry way. Sometime later, Aaron went in for a cleaning and the traitorous office staff mentioned that I had yet to make the appointment for my work...and Aaron came home and let me know that I was NOT getting out of this.
He stood next to me while I called to make the appointment. The first one I made happened to fall on a weekend that I was coaching a track meet last spring, so I had to reschedule. Then for the second appointment I developed a mysterious case of strep throat, so of course I had to reschedule. Aaron grumbled and groused and brought it up every chance he got, so I set the appointment for Wednesday, March 12th. (Hey! That's today!)
It just so happens, that the boys basketball team at our high school made it to the State tournament for the first time in 24 years. I've had every single one of those boys in class, and several of them are in my homeroom, so I can't possibly miss my chance to watch them play. And it just so happens that their first round game is Wednesday, March 12th. (Hey! That's today!)
Of course, I'll have to reschedule...
