The Extraction

I didn't feel the first injection and there was barely a twinge with the second and third. The hygienist slipped the nitrous mask in place. Fifteen minutes later the offending tooth was history and I was on my way home. The young and good looking dentist had accomplished what for me was nothing less than a miracle - painlessly, deftly, quickly.

More importantly - I was breathing normally, hadn't broken any fingernails, had never had the first stirrings of an anxiety attack. The pain of healing was more uncomfortable than the extraction.

On my way home from work the following day, I stopped at the wine shop for a gift certificate for the friend who had so generously given his time and talent to install a window unit for me during the heat wave and a gift basket for the dentist. I struggled with the card, torn between a simple thank you and a message of sainthood.

Kindness is not as common as we would like in this sometimes sorry world and for those of us who are confronted with uncontrollable fear, whatever the source, finding compassion and understanding can be a long battle. I do not approve of my dental phobia, I despise it and am ashamed of it, but have never been able to conquer it. Reflexes and biology take over the moment I step into a dentist's office - my heart pounds like a sledge hammer, I can't breathe, I shake, I often dissolve into tears just from the anxiety and anticipation. Everything about it unravels me internally and makes me terrified. To survive a visit is a monumental achievement - to survive a visit without a melt down is life changing.

I don't know how to tell this to this young, good looking, dry humored and immensely kind doctor, don't know how to tell him what his patience and gentle nature have meant to me or how far he has brought me in just two quick visits. I don't know how to tell him that after a lifetime of terror and fear and pain, I trust him. Maybe I'll find a way in subsequent visits or just maybe, he already knows and is wise enough not to tell me.