Fear And Loathing In Ventura County
Fear stalked the aisles of the Ojai Save-U-Mart today. As I selected my preferred brand of cottage-cheese I could feel it watching me from over by the pears. Abhorrence blocked the bread aisle and, although the other shoppers appeared to be walking, they didn’t move their legs.
As I drove home, the clouds took on a malevolent aspect. Great ogres billowed and gaped, breathing down on me the breath of Heaven’s displeasure (which could benefit from a tictac.) I weaved on the road and, only just recovering, pulled over and turned the engine off.
Peril was in the bushes, and a rabbit openly loathed me. I cleared my throat. Trees muttered imprecations and telephone-poles laughed and pointed. (God knows, the telephone-armenians have their own problems.) Sinister gates swung open and shut where before there had been no gates, and I watched a raven turn snow white. I blinked hard and drove on.
As I reached my driveway, doubt crouched behind the dustbins and all the world turned sickly and yellow. Perspiration was entombing my body now, as I got into the house as quickly as I could, locking the door behind me.
I boiled the kettle and, with a trembling hand, poured myself a cup of dread. My breathing quickened. Shaking, my hand reached for the phone and I dialed.
I made the bloody dentist appointment.
March 27th, 2007 at 9:18 am
Ah well do I know that fear…. you are a brave brave woman… good luck
March 27th, 2007 at 10:45 am
Pah! I hate the dentist with all my liver, my dearly beloved almost does an Hannibal vs BA on me every time I have to go near one. Did you know I once had tooth ache for almost nine months? I was up to something like 20 anadin day before I finally gave in. Christ, It’s a wonder I have a drop of blood left.
Dentists! I’m against them!
March 27th, 2007 at 12:33 pm
Well done Sam! I award you the Distinguished Silly Order, with Chocolate Bar and Frilly Ribbon.
What is it with Scottish teeth that makes them so crap, it must be the macaroon bars and Irn Bru
March 27th, 2007 at 12:40 pm
Vivid, as always. It brought back memories of my early visits to the dentist. In truth, it was a combination of his advanced myopia and untreated halitosis that really freaked me out.
March 27th, 2007 at 1:27 pm
Wimp!
What’s the worst they can do to you? Rip a tooth out by the roots with a pair of rusty pliers while blood gushes over the walls? What’s the problem?
March 27th, 2007 at 2:08 pm
What I find interesting is that dentists and proctologists both share the same high regard among their patients. It’s interesting because both deal with the particularly nasty ends of the alimentary canal.
Cheers.
BTW, I recommend an 18 year old single malt or three before you go.
March 27th, 2007 at 3:28 pm
In my experience vets make the best dentists. The trick is to make them afraid of you before you let them tinker with your mouth.
March 27th, 2007 at 4:00 pm
I’m licking the wood on my desk as I type but my dentist doesn’t hurt me even plunging the needle in is numbed first. Now the hygienist before last was a female fiend. For real exquisite torture try root canal trouble on a visit to the Great Barrier Reef. Again the pain didn’t come from the dentist . but it was agony Ivy!
March 27th, 2007 at 4:08 pm
Shite – you just reminded me I need to do the same.
March 27th, 2007 at 4:42 pm
birchsprite, my dentist is creepy too. He has a permanent half smile that I think he has had Botoxed in place for his customers, but there’s no smiling in his eyes. He will give me a row for waiting too long between cleanings.
fmc, the only thing that ever makes me go is trying to avoid another miserable experience of purest agony I had in Glasgow one night before an important exam at uni. My poor dear boyfriend of the time phoned all over the place for 2 hours to try and get me in and I was in tears of pain. He found someone who didn’t insist on dental insurance and would take emergencies from people not already on their books. I would sooner undergo surgery without anaesthesia than have toothache like that again.
Hell, hell, hell it was.
Apprentice, Scottish teeth are crap, aren’t they! I had to have 4 big ones taken out as a teenager because there were too many for the size of my jaw and my mouth was all crowded. I mean what kind of genetics are these? What would have happened to me in the olden days, eh? I’d have been a literal martyr to my own dentition and left to writhe miserably til death with the other weaklings in a ditch somewhere. British dentistry’s a joke over here too, apparantly.
McCrumble, I wish my dentist had halitosis as it would give me some sort of toothly high ground over him. But everyone there has shiny faces and flawless teeth as white as milk. Bright jangly pop music is pipes in through tinny wall speakers and on the ceiling above all the dentist chairs there are large posters of the dentist’s family and all their perfect teeth.
Asym42, a good deal of the fear comes from the shame of not going enough, from only having one hygienist cleaning a year and not flossing enough. In all other aspects of my life, I manage to behave like a prudent, responsible grown-up but fear of the dentist just about kills me. I need to find a nicer, gentler one, I think.
Randall, if I didn’t have to drive a 40 mile round-trip I’d go right for the whisky idea. Proctologists? I don’t understand them. Where does the urge come from to devote one’s life to bottoms? And not even pink, healthy ones but broken bottoms, poor shadows of former bottoms, bottoms that need care and healing. Why would a person do that? Do they have a calling, epiphanies when it becomes clear what their role in this life should be?
Nanas, excellent idea! Turn the tables, make him fear me! Do you think drooling would do it? I’ll bet he has a hideous needle-rich cure for that though. Eye-rolling? Barking? Asking him to turn the muzak up?
Pat, my greatest fear on a long flight is sudden and searing toothache. You had it at the Great Barrier Reef? Were you out in a boat when it struck? Oh, I commiserate, I do. That sounds like purest misery. Especially when you’ve paid a whole lot of money to go someplace lovely to experience overwhelming pain. Fickle fate and her flamin’ timing!
March 27th, 2007 at 5:38 pm
I hate going to the dentist. I need painkillers – even just for a cleaning. I want to cry every time I sit waiting, freezing to death in that sterile looking room. Damn – it’s about time for me to make my own appointment. Please add a warning above any future dental care posts. TYVM.
March 27th, 2007 at 6:50 pm
John, sorry. I’m just back and it was hell, as expected. I hate the creepy dentist and his creepy, creepy receptionist wife with the collagen-enhanced lips and the shiny stretched face. It wasn’t very sore but I just have a bad attitude to the dentist.
Jali, I’m sorry to be spreading this much dread and apprehension today. I’ve known a few nice dentists in my time but the chair-side manner of most for the very, very scared like myself is cold and heartless. And you’re right, it is freezing in dentist’s offices! Why do they do that on top of the dread they know they cause you? I expect they’re just awfully grumpy and misanthropic from looking inside people’s mouths all day. I guess it’s understandable in a way. But God, is my dentist creepy!
March 27th, 2007 at 8:49 pm
So I totally read that as “bloody dentist” and was thinking…well, if my dentist was covered in blood, I doubt I’d be all chompin’ at the bit to make an appointment with him either. I mean…can’t he take a flippin’ shower once in a while? It’s not like it stains.
And then I figured it out…you were being foreign. Silly me.
March 27th, 2007 at 9:50 pm
Have you tried “we’re not going to hurt each other, now are we?”
March 27th, 2007 at 10:47 pm
Kara, we foreigners are tricky, you’ve got to watch us. We say bloody and go to the lavatory and, on the first day of Spring we slaughter lambs at midnight on the high windy moor. It’s really crowded up there at the vernal equinox. We’re all there with our ipods on dancing like we’re Kate Bush. Last year I bumped into the Prime Minister while whirling like a dervish. He was very nice about it, especially since I made him lose a skull off his ceremonial big stick with the mystical runes on. I was soooo embarrassed but his manner’s were impeccable and I thought, as I looked across the moor at the writhing debauchery and flying lamb’s innards all around me, I thought, by God, Sam, it’s manners like that makes me proud to be British! I wiped a tear from my eye and went to take some tea in a tent.
Bock, I think he could tell by the look in my eye that i wasn’t going to take his dentistry lying down. This was right before I took his dentistry lying down. But I did give him a pretty hard stare as I lay there with instruments hanging out of my mouth. Lets just say I think he knew who he was dealing with.
March 28th, 2007 at 4:08 am
Sam, dear, that’s what the Problem Husband is for. He drives you while you drink the Scotch and makes sure you don’t sully it with ice or soda.
Frankly, I expected better of you.
I’m so disappointed.
Cheers and hic.
March 28th, 2007 at 4:37 am
You’d like my dentist.He’s as mad as a badger and the first time we meet has was wearing shorts under a buttoned lab coat.
‘Are you wearing any trousers under there?’ I nervously twitter.
“Would it bother you if I wasn’t ?” says he.
Another time he pulls up next to me in the car park where I’m flossing away bits of breakfast.
“Too f*cking late for THAT!” Roars he ” Get up to that office!”
Top boy though.
March 28th, 2007 at 5:38 am
As a dental assistant I can honestly say most people psych themselves into utter fear and terror and jsut make it worse for themselves. The anxiety is much worse than anything we can do to you. THe more you tell yourself it will be horrific, the more horrific it will be.
If it does hurt it is usually becuase the patient left it far too long and now a bucketful of anaesthetic won’t do a thing.
You do get tired of seeing the same thing over and over, so unnecessary.
Oh, and sadly alcohol will thin your blood and make you bleed more….
I would almost put money on it not being as bad as you are expecting
You will be fine. All you need to do is believe it.
March 28th, 2007 at 8:01 am
As you lie there, clutch him by the goolies. If he hurts you, your natural reflexes will alert him instantly.
March 28th, 2007 at 3:40 pm
Rand, honey, you wouldn;t be the first to be disappointed. Great things were expected and I ran off to marry a man twice my age. Scotch is bleurgh! I can’t stomach the stuff. Give me a nice Bombay Sapphire any day. And, as it is a Tuesday, and late, after all, you would be right in assuming I’m addled with alcohol, We didn’t win at Trivia but it was someone’s birthday so we had extra banana shots anyway! Huzzah! Is it wholly responsible to blog whilst under the influence? You’re a lawyer Rand, whaddaya say?
Hangar baby, badgers are indeed off their stripey heads. If they;re wearing shorts as well I’m sure it would be hard to get anybody to submit to dental examination. Your dentist sounds great. I wish I had one who could say F#*k. I can’t imagine a circumstance under which my dentist would say anything more than Gosh drattit. Not that I want too much passion in my dentist. I like him cool and calm and not given to wild flourishes with the drill. He is not an artist and my palate is not a palette!
March 28th, 2007 at 3:57 pm
Hi Stella, thanks for taking the time to comment. I want to believe, I really really do. How much money are we talking here? Because that would be a pretty tasty win-win for me. It’s not so bad at the dentist? I win! It’s worse than hell at the dentist? I get paid? Yes, I get paid! Thank-you Stella, i’m going to implement this plan with my husband immediately! The anxiety is much worse than anything we can do to you. But you can do terrible things to people, that’s the point and whence the fear comes. I had a root canal shortly after having my daughters. I’d had one before and it was fine, good even. But this one was a doozy. The tooth wasn’t even sore but they hit my nerve time and time again as I flopped like a dying fish on the chair. It was miserable and agonising and badly done – the crown fell off within the year. So I fear. Oh yes, I fear.
Hi Primal Sneeze, welcome, I’ve seen you about. Goolie clutching is a good idea but what if he likes it? What if he’s a she? I’m more in favour of some sort of electrical device attached to the nipples or something. If I had the on/off switch I reckon it would be a far more reliable method of collecting patient feedback than a wee slip of paper in a box. Thanks for stopping by.
March 28th, 2007 at 3:57 pm
Glad you made girlie! Did you know men used too pay to get their daughters’ teeth extracted before they married to save the husband from having to pay for treatment -eith that or they were bloody kinky in those days
March 28th, 2007 at 7:37 pm
Sam, I’m amazed that a Scotswoman drinks gin. Is that why you had to leave, dear? Did they revoke your tartan privileges?
As for BUI or BWI, so far as I know, there’s no law against it. At least, I hope there isn’t.
Cheers.
March 28th, 2007 at 8:31 pm
I’m picking you for that “Thinking Blogger” award thingie. More to follow.
March 28th, 2007 at 9:32 pm
I don’t mind a trip to the dentist, but only because of the special language he uses.
“I’m just going to numb you up.” = “I’m going to stick this needle in your gum, press the plunger, and whack you with the full 10 cc.”
“You might feel this.” = “You are about to experience intense pain. Extreme pain. Agony. And I love it!”
“I’m just going to give them a polish.” = “Grip the arms of the chair and roll your eyeballs frantically while I grind the scale off your molars.”
“We can go with the better option” = “This will cost ?1,576.50, not the ?11.99 you have budgeted for. My daughter wants a new pony, you see.”
Dentists and hygienists go to a special school where they are taught this language. It’s next door to the one politicians attend.
March 28th, 2007 at 10:43 pm
I am utterly terrified of dentists. One day a nut broke my tooth and I had to have it fixed, and hadn’t been for so long that I had to find a new dentist. I was terrified when I went in, because she’s a crazy Polish lady with an accent made for torture and big crazy bleached hair and lots of eye makeup. No matter how gentle she was, I cried the whole way through…
March 28th, 2007 at 10:47 pm
telephone-armenians.
That’s very Chick Young, but surely he’s before your time? He’s before mine.
He opened the door in his pyjamas. I remember thinking funny place for a door.
You can’t have the cherry tootsie rolls without the drill. As a Wee Free Heelander you must know this. On the up side, there is no better feeling than leaving the dentist with your shirt stuck to your back but knowing you can eat a Mars Bar without flinching for another six months. Perfick.
March 28th, 2007 at 10:49 pm
Not Chick Young for goodness sake, – Chick Murray!
March 28th, 2007 at 10:52 pm
I deliberately put in a K in Chic for your American readership, not to be confused with chic as in Le freak.
March 28th, 2007 at 10:56 pm
When I go to the bloody dentist, thats how I leave him if he hurts me.
March 29th, 2007 at 3:54 am
Would you like to borrow some teabags?
My dentist is a real gentleman, he always puts me at ease before the “cough and drop’ part of the examination.
March 29th, 2007 at 5:30 am
Apprentice, that is freaky. That is the freakiest thing I’ve heard all week and I’ve been on the internet a fair bit. When was this? Did they give them falsies? Teeth that is – I suppose the husband would need to pay for any other kind of falsies he wanted on her. Blimey – the bad old days, eh!
Rand’ That is good to hear on the BUI. Scottish blood is thicker than whiskey though. Scotland and I couldn’t be free of the other even if we all wished fervently for it. I don’t of course and most of Scotland doesn’t know I exist to care if I come or go, but they’ve been trying to deny The Bay City Rollers for decades with no luck.
Jali, wow, thank you! I’ll be looking that up is a wee while! Will I have to change out of my jammies? Tidy up and maybe put wee bowls of mixed nuts out? Blimey! Cheers, Jali!
Hi Mr. Warmington, welcome – thanks for leaving a comment. I love it when people do. You know, I’m sure these schools you mentioned are in the very same postcode as the Academy of Real Estate and The Institute of Morning Chat Show Hosts.
Carolyn, I’m with you. There is a reason that Laurence Olivier was a Nazi DENTIST in Marathon Man. Crazy Polish Lady sounds like a horrifying prospect to gaze up at wide-eyed in the chair. I’m sorry you cried, hun. I know just how you felt. NHS school dentistry and a dentist with hairy nostrils did a number on me.
Mroons, “leaving the dentist with your shirt stuck to your back but knowing you can eat a Mars Bar without flinching for another six months. Perfick.”. That’d be my hair shirt stuck to my back – it’s the Wee Free penance for laughing at jokes and having jolly thoughts of any kind. It takes 6 months of sitting on tacks just to get over a Merry Christmas Without Small Sherry. A Small Sherry gets you 3 additional months of being sent to Coventry and daily glarings at by the church elders.
Knudsen, I can imagine. I’m only surprised you go at all – dentists are for the weak, no?
Eddie, “borrow” will you be wanting them back afterwards then? Cough and drop, eh? Look, I’ve got something to tell you, um…No I can’t, I mean it’s not my job – you won’t get violent will you? I’ve just re-painted the comment-box, you see. Omigod omigod! Before I start, just assure me your “dentist” never tried to give you a “filling.” You may want to sit down for this…
March 29th, 2007 at 8:45 am
Um, you know that nowadays they have dentists who will completely put you out, fully asleep, before they even start doing anything. You wake up, and your mouth’s all fixed.
I’m relieved to hear about your four teeth that had to be removed. I had to have the same thing done. I’m relieved because it obviously is just my Scottish heritage, and not my inbred Okie genes. See, I was fearing it was hick mouth, but now I know it’s just Scots mouth.
March 29th, 2007 at 3:21 pm
My Mum had rheumatism aged 30 and they took all her teeth out to combat it. That’s what they did then . Her teeth were perfect. Even with shop clackers she was still lovely and the cuddleliest person I ever met.
March 29th, 2007 at 4:47 pm
It’s a while since I read Dante’s Inferno but I’m fairly certain Virgil encounters some dentists down there.
March 29th, 2007 at 5:42 pm
I can’t believe you got THAT close to Tony! I totally heart Tony. I think he’s dreamy. In a perfect world, he’d be my cabana boy only instead of taking care of my cabana in a speedo…he’d read me bedtime stories…in a speedo.
March 29th, 2007 at 10:59 pm
Sam that was fantastically written. I love it. I keep rereading it – I’ve tried and failed to do that so many times.
March 30th, 2007 at 3:24 am
Sparrow – it’s the Scottishness that’s the trouble – it precludes me from choosing sleep dentistry. It’s like M’roon hints at up there. Scots need to suffer. We have to, to feel worthwhile or something. Something black and white stirs in our souls and tells us: if there’s a difficult way or a painful option, you must take it. It’s perverse, I know, but look who you’re dealing with.
Pat, my granny had the same thing done for some condition or another – can’t remember if it was rheumatism. She’s always had the loveliest smile. I can see definite advantages to it. I could especially see definite advantages in the past few days.
Foots, even Satan can’t abide them – the harsh lighting makes him look much older than he is and, being Satan, he’s obviously both vain and wrathful so he’s plonked them out with the gluttons in Circle 3 or 4 or wherever the gluttons go. The gluttons have to eat excrement for all eternity and if there’s anything worse than that it’s eating excrement knowing you have to go to the dentist tomorrow.
Kara, Tony? Kansas? Tony? Kansas? Tonykansastonykansastonaskansy… no no it’s not computing! How can one mind be drawn to such disparate creatures? Get help, woman. In the name of all that’s party political, get help!
Kav, I’ve just been at yours and seen your dad post and was much moved. It’s wierd the our generation, their generation thing. I wonder what it’ll be like for all our kids. Perhaps they’ll react against our open ways and turn back into our grand-parents. And thanks, hun – you’re a great, sweet goof, so y’are!