The Dentist

From a very young age I’ve been afraid of the dentist and one of the memories that stand up off the top of my head from my childhood happens to be my first experience with the dentist. I listened to my brother pay him a visit. This happened back in Poland, I remember the office being on the corner of the intersection across the street from my daycare. One morning my brother took me to school and on the walk over he told me to hurry up, because he had a dentist appointment. I end up convincing him to let me come along with him instead of going to class that day. When we arrive at the office I was surprised to see what it looked like. I expected it to be similar to the hospital where I got my vaccinations at but it was nowhere close. It was a single room with a waiting area and the dentist's work space, separated by a white cloth hung over a rope suspended by cloths pins. I took a seat beside the dentist before he started working on my brother; I noticed that the drill was powered by a foot pump. My brother stepped behind the curtain and the dentist spread the sheet out to give the two of them some privacy. Back then, the dentist was very expensive in Poland so my brother had to have his wisdom teeth removed without anesthesia. I clearly remember the sounds my brother made, subtle, painful grunts. After that he spent a week spitting up blood with a swollen face. I personally don’t recall ever feeling helpless but since my wisdom teeth began to come in I haven’t been more terrified in my life. When I first felt them growing in and pushing against my other teeth I was shocked, I still remember the night when I realized they were coming. They’re growing and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. It’s not so much the procedure I’m afraid of since I won’t feel any pain, however it'll still be unpleasant because I’m still going to feel a dumb tooth being plucked from my mouth and I’ll still hear all the sounds involved in the process. What really does scare me is the week or two that follows. Not being able to talk properly, let alone chew my food. I can just see myself lying in bed, jaw throbbing with pain, a tissue box on my night stand and a garbage bag on the floor beside me half full of bloody tissues and spit mixed with blood.