Facing Childhood Fears

As a kid I had always been afraid of dentists. The pain of loose milk teeth. The smell of those latex gloves; the taste of them. That bitter 'strawberry'-flavoured numbing gel (what is the point?). The poking and prodding in your mouth and on your gums. The shrill of scaling. The sudden wetness with bits of plaque in your mouth. The aggressiveness of the nurse's suction shadowing the dentist's hand. And then there's the self-inflicted scaremongering through reading/hearing about the worstest dental cases ever: going blind due to nerve-related complications during extraction, the pain of root canals and dry sockets, god knows what else.

This wasn't a pain thing. We've all been through that time when pediatricians (those bastard liars) telling us "it won't hurt a bit" and then inject you with a very large needle that indeed did hurt a bit. And the second time wasn't so scary any more. At least they gave us a lollipop for our troubles--dentists let us out telling us to brush twice a day and lay off the sweets (those bastards). Experience is the best teacher--I believe that now, but not back then. The first few visits were abject failures and an embarrassment to my parents. I wouldn't open my mouth, would push her hands away. I'd ask a million questions and ask for other means. I even went as far as to ask for a way in which I could be "put to sleep" or just have her do it "with my jaw outside my skull". But take teeth out she did. And hurt it did not. Yet still I was never going to easily let them sit me on that ridiculous chair, staring into the light, mouth wide open.

One day in school we had a visit from the government dentists. I was six or seven, Standard One. First I hid underneath my desk, then behind a door, and then in the AHU room where they kept the emergency fire hose. The genius I was back then, I actually moved closer towards the 'treatment room' which was just near the AHU room. So this nurse grabbed me, checked my records, sat me down, asked me why I was crying and why wasn't I ashamed since there were girls in the room. Since I was being difficult, one held my head, and the other did the scaling thing. I remember being weak the rest of the day from being so rigid throughout the whole ordeal. They came again in Standard Three, and although I was less teary at first, the drilling to add a filling took care of that.

Then I went to boarding school, so dental issued had to be done at a clinic, and a fancy one opened just down the street. I had my first x-ray there and although the clinic was a shit load less scary than SKBD's bengkel-KH-turned-treatment-room, the image took care of that. Apparently at the age of 16, I still had three milk teeth. And since their roots were still there, extraction would be "more invasive". I asked to wait. And then I never saw a dentist for the next five years (that's ten missed visits).

After graduating, I realised that however aggressive or frequent you brush your teeth, some things still require scaling to get rid of. More pertinently, I noticed my wisdom tooth growing forward instead of upward. This scared the shit out of me. Of course, you google your problems first. And I found out that I had something called mesial impaction (forward at an acute angle) or even horizontal impaction (90°). These websites say the former isn't that big of a deal and 43% of the time, will not require removal. Needless to say I was hoping it was that, and that I was the 43%. And as time went by, it grew and effectively 'bit' on food with it's neighbour, leaving pieces of food stuck at the end of my jaw, and rendering my tongue lenguh and tired if I tried to remove it. Every night I had to use dental equipment to clean my teeth. That mirror-on-a-stick thing, and that metal toothpick-at-the-end-of-stick thing. And then the not very wise tooth started to hurt. So for the first time, I drove to the dentist--on my own accord.

This was a panel clinic I chose at random. The clinic was walk-in only after lunch, the dentist was rough as fuck, and I left with blood pouring out from around every tooth. And she also said "yes, all four need to be extracted" and told me to come again for an x-ray and whatnot. I instead chose a fancy clinic in Bangsar that would charge an arm and a leg. I figured it was worth it. This clinic was one of those pristine, take-your-shoes-off, have-some-grape-juice-before-we-cut-your-jaw, places. I had to take a crap beforehand, though. For obvious reasons. The dentist then talked me through what would be done. He will drill the tooth and break it into three or four pieces and take it out piece by piece. I thought whoop-dee-freaking-doo, I'm here anyway. So I said OK. What happened next, for those of you who aren't aware of wisdom tooth extraction surgery, was:

1. Steroids. It will shrink the muscles and nerves and reduce inflammatory something something whathaveyou, I'm not entirely sure. But your jaw won't go Quasimodo. Well, not as bad.
2. Anesthesia injections across the jaw, both in front and behind the tooth. Six times maybe? I lost count. This part hurt the most, you won't feel a thing after this.
3. I'm not sure what it was but he used a thin blunt instrument and outlined the tooth. Perhaps pushing the gums away to reveal the tooth? But that doesn't make sense because after that he...
4. Cuts the gums open. I had a bit of a fright seeing a knife stroking around in my mouth, but I didn't feel a thing, not even contact.
5. Drilling. He will drill the jaw around the tooth to expose it a little. He will then drill the tooth to break it up. It feels like a drill on your tooth or jaw, but without the pain. As the assistant had awesome suction skill, I did not feel bits of tooth or bone floating around in my mouth.
6. Snap. "I'm going to break the tooth off, you will feel a bit of a snap--that's biasa la tu". He'll take pliers of some sort and snap it off. His assistant will hold your jaw as support. Snapping feels and sounds like breaking a chicken wing bone. Except that it's attached to your jaw. This was the most unpleasant part.
7. Steps (5) and (6) are repeated until everything's gone. Usually the tooth is broken into three or four. Mine was "complicated a little" so he had to cut it into seven.
8. Cleaning the wound. The wound is splashed with water and suctioned off a few times to rid it off debris. You could now feel the empty spot where the tooth was.
9. Stitching. Using a self-dissolving thread, the dentist stitched it up in a jiffy. Was pretty slick at it too.
10. Bite on gauze. After 15 minutes, the bleeding generally stops. Your drooling, however, won't stop until the anesthesia dies off in a few hours.

I was grabbing on the seat the whole time. The only reason I didn't run away was because... I dunno, it's unbecoming of a twentysomething year old? Anyway, I kept thinking it would get worse, but really the only thing painful about the 'minor surgery' was the injection. Everything after that was unpleasant, but you don't feel a thing. In fact, half way through (after maybe three pieces out), I could actually breathe out, kick back and relax, and not care so much about the drilling and snapping. I extracted my other offending tooth recently, and this time the injections were worse--he even injected my tongue. But after that I could clasp my hands and let them do their thing. The surgery isn't bad at all.

And I guess if I can drive myself to a dentist, for surgery, twice, then I can safely say this fear isn't valid anymore. It may not seem like much to many people, but it's not every day that you overcome a childhood phobia. Say what you will, piss on my parade for all I care, but this was a huge achievement and I am proud nonetheless. Good riddance to the fear, to the offending teeth, and to the scaremongering--I'd say everyone my age has been through a lot worse than this surgery. The recovery, however, is a bitch.

You wake up the next day with a huge bengkak on your jaw. Opening your mouth too fast may hurt the wound. And also, for me at least, movement of the tongue affected the wound too. Make sure you get a good regiment of painkillers and soft foods (milkshakes!).