Well, I’m entering my own personal level of hell today. I’m having my wisdom teeth removed.
I have a tooth thing. I mean, nobody likes the dentist, but my aversion has bordered on being extreme. I’ve obsessively cleaned my teeth myself for years to avoid the terror of having someone else’s hands in my mouth, and have been warned that I needed my wisdom teeth out for the last 8 years or so before finally giving in now, at the ripe age of 27.
I don’t know where the intense anxiety I have comes from. Was it the dentist as a child? (I don’t think so, I never seemed to have a problem there.) Maybe the orthodontia? (Feeling like my skull was being ripped in half was pretty unnerving.) But then there are the years of dreams about my teeth exploding, turning to sand, and falling out over and over and over again -dreams that have only receded in the last two or three years.
As terrifying as this is, I’m much less worried about the actual procedure, and I’m more worried about what comes after. Pain. Discomfort. Pain pills. All things that are triggers (for me) for bipolar activity.
It is one thing for a normal, healthy adult to experience some pain and discomfort, but when I experience it, it doesn’t come alone. Suicidality. Delusional yearnings of self-injury. Irritability and hostility that could drive even the most caring person up the wall. It wont be pretty, and not because my cheeks will be swollen up like big balloons, either.
I’ve set up a number of distractions to try and help with this, but being sick last weekend was a stern reminder that pain and discomfort are dangerous territories for me to be in. Hopefully things will go much better than I expect, but if not I have a series of back up plans in case anything goes awry.
I guess that means I just need to eat a lot of ice cream. Like, a lot a lot.