Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The dentist and other phobias

There are two things in the world which fill me with a fear so deep that I actually get palpitations at the very thought.

Steve Martin gives me the heebies
Those two things are

A) Fish (of any description, live or dead.)

B) The dentist.

Now when it comes to the fish, I can rationalise my fear. When I was a toddler I apparantly choked on a fishbone, had to be rushed to Altnagelvin hosptial in Derry and have said fishbone removed by a plier type device while turning a fetching shade of blue. My mother, in a fit of nervous hysteria laughed the whole time. Is it any wonder I'm traumatised.

The dentist? Well that's a little bit trickier. I never used to be afraid of the dentist. I went every six months. I had teeth extracted for orthodontic work. Had fillings and all manner of treatment and then one day, when I was about 17, I woke up petrified of ever having to got the dentist again.

Two root canals later (one through a bad filling and one after a falling flat on my face incident) my fear was cemented.

Neither were pleasant experiences.

But, and I haven't admitted this before... part of my fear of the dentist stems from Steve Martin's portrayal of the sadistic dentist in Little Shop of Horrors. There's no need, simply no need for anyone to portray a dentist like that. Especially not with us deliciate dental-phobic people out there just waiting to be traumatised.

I went to the dentist yesterday and it was neither big nor clever. My dentist was lovely. I'll put that on the record but fairies could have flown into my mouth and kissed my teeth better and I still would have had a panic attack at the very thought.

The only thing is this world which would be worse to me than a visit to the dentist would be a visit to the dentist while having one of those freaky fish pedicure efforts.

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