So they ended up extricating the tooth. The other option was a root filling but we all (us and the dentists) agreed that option would be far too traumatic. I survived but there was a few incidents in the process.
The dentist wanted to know what trauma I was dealing with. I told her about how I can hardly handle brushing my own teeth, but she seemed confused. I tried to say I had a psychopath as a grandmother, but she looked, well, like thatâ€™s something someone says, you know, hyperbole, but seldom the truth. I felt the frustration growing, itâ€™s never a good sign. There are people here who get so annoyed with us, and with outside people that donâ€™t get it, that skirt around the truth. I knew I should back away, but the next thing I know Iâ€™m telling the truth.
I told her about my grandmother using tools in my mouth to hold it open, forcing dead animals into my mouth. I told her how she ripped one of my baby teeth out with pliers one day because I was getting too much attention from other people when I wiggled it. I told her how she loved to fuck my mouth with a metal ball hammer. I saw the look on her face so we stopped there, and sort of just shrugged and said, so yeah, we have problems with people putting things in our mouth, especially hands and anything metal. I donâ€™t know what she thought, listening to that stuff.
I feel bad laying it all out like that. Usually we have better control when the frustration of having people negate or minimise just how fucked up my abuse was. It happens. And most of the time Iâ€™m glad people donâ€™t get visuals of what I mean when I say I was abused. And I get it, that people who havenâ€™t been abused need to sanitise it to handle the idea. So usually I donâ€™t go around telling people anything too detailed about my life. I think because we were already stressed and on the very edge we couldnâ€™t take it down before it came out.
So after freaking out the dentist I had to go get an xray. That guy was a total dick. I had the plates in my mouth and thatâ€™s never comfortable for anyone, it had me trembling, which made the plates shake a bit. He got pissed off and was very rude about it. And I get it, to get a good x-ray they needed to be still, but as far as I know shaking isnâ€™t something thatâ€™s a conscious choice.
The dentist, her assistant and the supervisor, though, were all very comforting and professional. I had a flash of memory when I was given the second injection, just enough to freak me out without too much detail. They talked me through slowing my breathing and relaxing my tense muscles. And I thought, wow, ok thatâ€™s my freak out, and I managed it. Wishful thinking.
I went into full blown flashback during the extrication. I remember hearing the dentist say if I needed to stop to raise my right hand, that any time I needed a break to raise my right hand. I couldnâ€™t do it. Even though I could hear her, I was too trapped into the past, too sure if I tried to stop it Iâ€™d get hurt worse, not by the dentist, but at that stage the dentistâ€™s voice was just something vague, not really present. My mind was more in the past than the present and I couldnâ€™t, at the time, work out I wasnâ€™t back then. Whenever I thought about stopping it, there was that terrified voice going donâ€™t do it, donâ€™t resist, it will get worse. There were also other voices going on about how much of a wuss I was, and how pathetic and shameful, and was I just trying to show everyone what a complete loser and disgusting shit I was. So no, my hand never moved.
I knew they were aware I was panicking. I remember hearing the assistant talking about my breathing being out of control. At one stage she kept saying my name and trying to get me to slow my breathing. At the time all I could think was she sounded angry, so very angry at me. But looking back I am pretty certain that wasnâ€™t the case. She was using an assertive strong voice, but not one that was angry at me. Iâ€™m pretty sure with hindsight she was trying to get through all the panic and memories that were swamping me. When I finally took a breath and the world came rushing back, she actually sounded proud of me. Which just made me feel pathetic and I cried with embarrassed shame. They were all very supportive.
When it was all finished, the supervisor woman made me laugh. They were going through aftercare instructions and I was told I shouldnâ€™t have a smoke for 2 days (yeah right lol). So she said, so after you get outside and have that smoke youâ€™re dying for, no more for a while. It made me laugh that she knew I would instantly be lighting one. While the other two were telling me I could sit there for a while even as I was struggling to get my jacket on, she just smiled and said, nah, she wants to get away as quick as possible. After all the embarrassment and horror, it was a relief and very grounding to have someone joke with me.
So itâ€™s dealt with, the tooth is out. It will probably be a day or two before the swelling and abscess drains. They want me to come back to scale my teeth, and Iâ€™m considering it. I know they need it done, that it will probably help, but its damn scary. I think Iâ€™ll need to take some time to get over this to give it some serious thought.
PS: Thanks Shandra, itâ€™s good to know Iâ€™m not the only one, and if I go for the scaling thing Iâ€™m going to try some of your suggestions.