Wisdom teeth

And worst-case scenarios

My wisdom teeth have been causing me pain for about three years, on and off. For most of that time, the idea of getting them out filled me with horrific dread and anxiety. I thought the tooth pain would go away, but it never did and eventually, the anxiety of when the pain would come back overcame the fear of the surgery itself.

So I finally scheduled the damn appointment.

Of course, I was not looking forward to the surgery because who would? A month of unease drags on until the day comes where my dad picks up my dread-filled body and drives it to the office of the oral surgeon. In the waiting room, the fear is overwhelming my body and my bowels and something strange is happening to my arms where the only position that feels natural is raised slightly in the air, hands at 90-degree angle, most closely resembling the pose of a cartoon zombie, complete with a dead facial expression. Because that’s how I feel. Like I’m dying.

Eventually they call me back to the gallows where I’m separated from my dad. Immediately upon sitting on what might as well be the electric chair, I start crying because I know what’s about to happen… They’re going to poke me with The Needle. I don’t know when my extreme fear of needles began but the thought of them makes me weak at the knees and gives me inexplicable zombie arms apparently.

In the past, nurses have had a hard time finding my veins so I thought maybe it could be an issue. And oh boy was it! They stuck me, a girl with an extreme fear of needles, a whopping six times trying to find a vein eligible for administering IV sedation.

They couldn’t do it. They couldn’t find a good vein and they even checked my feet. There I was, laying down, tears streaming down my face, all alone, blanket covering me from chin to ankles and now I have two nurses taking off my shoes and socks, my dogs are out, and they might give me an IV in my feet. Even that wouldn’t work.

They told me I have two options: 1) do it the old-fashioned way with laughing gas and numbing shots or 2) cut our losses, reschedule, and try again.

After the emotional horror of the experience, I was in no place to deal with the physical pain of actually getting my teeth out that day. Especially if it was going to require even more needles. This was the worst possible scenario. I spent a month being anxious for the surgery and I didn’t even get the teeth out.

I went home, my dad got us McDonald’s, and I cried all day until I gave myself a headache. All the anxiety for the surgery was for nothing. I was mentally prepared for everything else — not being able to eat, the possibility of getting dry socket, an adverse reaction to the pain meds, but not this. All of my worry was futile.

When I get scared something bad might happen and it actually does, I feel justified in my anxiety for everything else. Like it’s the right thing to do, mentally preparing for the worst. I know my brain is trying to protect me, but it ends up making me feel bad twice. Once in preparation, and another in actuality.

This time, something beyond my greatest fears happened and it had to have been worse than the procedure itself. The amount of energy and length of time I had spent doomsday prepping, plus the years of physical tooth pain and being anxious about the procedure has to be worse than the actual procedure (which takes about 45 minutes) and the recovery time for the surgery (about a week).

That day, I was angry with myself for being so anxious, but I think I learned my lesson. I can spend my life in a state of dread, spinning the possible scenarios for what bad things could happen, but in the end, I have no clue how anything will play out. It could be worse than my imagination, as in this case. It could be the same. Or it could be totally fine. The point is, I will never be able to know.

There is no point in being so anxious, nor is there a point in being angry with myself about how I feel. All I can do now is try to not repeat this mistake in the future. There will be bad days, but they will end. I will be scared but I will survive. I will have fun and feel good again. There is no point in fixating on the negative feelings and ruining the good when it’s here. It will be how it is.

My rescheduled appointment is tomorrow. I’ve been doing my best not to think too much about it and be in the moment as much as I can. Whatever is going to happen, will happen. Today I’m having a good day and I’m trying not to let my fear of tomorrow ruin it.

Plus, they’ve prescribed me Valium ahead of this surgery, which should help ;)