D is for Dentist

D is for Dentist

For some people its spiders, some cows, others open spaces for me my pet fear is going to the dentist (well one of them anyway). It probably stems from some of the fluoride treatment my mother insisted my sisters and I had. One treatment session ended up with me vomiting over the dentist performing the work – justifiable revenge. I didn’t mind my orthodontist so much but that was probably only because he didn’t pull any teeth out, drill any or ever scrape them.

As soon as I went to Uni. I didn’t keep up my appointments and succeeded in not visiting the dentist for 5 years. However, I had to find one very quickly when I had infected wisdom teeth. I got away without having too much work being required but the wisdom teeth got pulled at the General Hospital under local anaesthetic and a bit of “jungle juice” (the only time I ever got high – and it was legal). I think the consultant recognised trouble when he saw me and made sure my worry levels were kept to a minimum.

I now don’t worry too much about going to the dentist – can I really be scared of a man who once danced along to Abba in my next door neighbours kitchen at midnight. On the other hand don’t answer that! No, he is a reassuring chap as well as patient – he spends a lot of time gradually coaxing me into the chair.

“The dentist’s chair is the only time
That anybody ever looks at their mouth
Let the dentist give their teeth something to chatter about”

A Little Piece of Advice, The Beautiful South

D could also be for diet, doodling, Dorset buttons

Advertisements