Mama Bear goes to the Dentist

This was not a trip that anyone was looking forward to. My daughter has had nothing but Trouble (notice the capital "T") since her baby teeth erupted from her baby gums. Yes, she is still my baby.

Yep, Mama Bear has been here quite a bit lately.

I agreed when she asked me to come be a second set of ears while her dentist outlined "The Plan" for Amy's latest tooth dilemma, which has included words such as dental abscess, extraction, root canal, and many more words that I couldn't hear because of the frantic "Lalalalalalalalalala..." going on inside my head.

So much help, am I.

However I did fight my way back to the procedure room against the preferences of the dentist, wrestling my way to my seat, knocking my purse into the metal blinds causing the doctor to level an unblinking death glare at me,was told to be quiet as I was causing the patient's blood pressure to raise, and finally removed myself before I could be banned.
All in all, a successful dental visit.
Long story short, Amy is doing better and hopefully is on the road to recovery. But all the dental talk reminded me of this blog post from a few years ago that I thought I'd repost. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed reliving it. NOT.!!

Dear Dentist...

Dear Dr. #####,

Thank you for seeing me yesterday and taking such good care of me and my teeth. I appreciated your obvious concern when you noticed how nervous I was because of how the instruments on your tray were rattling because of my quaking. I guess the Valium didn't really take.
Bummer.
I do feel the need to apologize for a couple things.

I'm sorry I couldn't remember which hand you told me to raise (left, LEFT!) when I wanted you to stop for any reason and I just kept flailing both arms about like I was trying to hail a cab. I seriously did NOT mean to hit you and jar your arm. I understand that you needed a break at that time, which was perfectly fine with me. Your apology to me was kind but unnecessary.

I hope you know everything would have gone much more smoothly had I not been so scared. But the dentist terrifies me. Not you in particular. Just dentists. And hygienists. I'll throw the assistants and the receptionists in there,too.

I got up extra early so I would have time to shower before I came. I'm sure you appreciate that. I also carefully applied my makeup as I hoped that would show you that I wasn't scared; that this was just a normal day.
I'm guessing you didn't notice my carefully applied smoky eyes behind the sunglasses you gave me to protect my eyes from that blazing headlamp thingy you wear.
FYI, that was Bobbi Brown's shimmery lip gloss you got all over your gloves. It is a nice neutral color. I thought it would make me brave.

I also straightened my hair, in case you didn't notice, what with all the jerking back and forth of my head as you "extracted" my broken, infected wisdom tooth. Oh, and thanks again for offering to show it to me when you were finished. I didn't mean to go all "Rosemarie's Baby" on you when I said no. Sorry if I scared you.

But nothing probably scared you so much as when I reclined on the chair, sunglasses and paper bib in place, I opened my mouth for the first time and you and I realized together that I forgot to brush my teeth that morning.

Yeah, I know.

Who does that; forgets to BRUSH THEIR FREAKING TEETH BEFORE A DENTAL APPOINTMENT?

I do, apparently.

I sincerely apologize and hope my artfully applied make-up and freshly straightened hair made up for the bits of oatmeal, almonds and raisins you saw lodged between my teeth and for having to smell my Starbuck's French Roast coffee breath. I understand that it sounds better than it smells.
(yes, I know you told me NOT to have coffee, that it interferes with the medication blah blah blah. But I was nervous. I didn't have the strength in me to give up the coffee.)

Speaking of food, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that I have been following your post op instructions to the "T".
The "soft food" part left me searching and puzzled as to what I could eat. But I scavenged through my cupboards and fridge until I found things that would fit the bill.
I had Lipton Cup-a-Soup (not too hot!) and then a good size piece of triple layer chocolate cake. Who knew that, if desperate enough, one could poke small bites of chocolatey cake into the undamaged side of the mouth until it slid down the throat. I think the frosting really helps it glide down.
And it does wonders for calming one down after a trauma. Not that this was a trauma. I'm just saying itwould undoubtedly calm one down after a trauma.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your gentle kindness during this procedure and let you know I will come back and see you again. if for nothing else, then to listen to you hum again as you work: "No I'm never gonna dance again...guilty feet have got no rhythm." I didn't mean to startle you when I joined in. Maybe the swelling, the cotton roll in my gum and the rubber dam made me sound a little off key and demented.

But I just wanted to let you know that you made the whole experience, if not enjoyable, certainly bearable. That is high praise coming from someone with my level of the crazy.
Sincerely,
Diane Meyer