Guest post written by Heather Baggaley –
(RC Hyp, Dip Hyp, GQHP)
I am sure this is not the forum to do it, but I admit it – I am a wimp. A complete and total utter wimp when it comes to Dentists.
I can troop out the thousands of reasons as to why this should be, bad experiences by a butcher who completed a basic training day course that entitled him to put a mask on to hide his smile as he gleefully drilled into my jawbone without anaesthetic – or at least that is what my childhood memory is. Even as an adult, I am still pretty convinced that it happened just like that.
Amazingly I have reasonably good teeth for an old nag seeing as how my trips to the dentist have been intermittent at best. I am sure I could avail you of a complete list of reasons (ahem excuses) why I did not attend those 6 monthly check-ups. For one I was just too busy, I am certain.
When I did go, I requested the works, valium, anaesthetic, gas (double dose please), o and don’t forget the good girls lollipop. Did I get frustrated that this man with his huge big hammer drill (the ones they use for carving up tarmac) inside my mouth could cause me to completely change from an assertive capable woman into a drivelling wreck? Certainly. So much that when it came to my own kids, I made certain that what they ate from babe to kindergarten was completely sugar free, apart from the raisins that I even persuaded my mother to buy them instead of sweets. When they were old enough for check-ups – they went. Religiously. Mum had to try and maintain her composure and sound as if everyone loved dentists, her only comfort was the fact she was not the one laying prostrate with the funny specs on and something the size of a chisel rattling around her teeth.
The problem came when they were old enough to ask when I was going to go!
Very recently I have had occasion to visit said man with pavement breaker. The first appointment I asked for and got a valium tablet to take before the appointment, well at least I think it was valium or thought it was at the time. Thankfully they did not do anything, x-rays, antibiotics and so on, and I was fine. The next appointment where it was thought they may have to take a broken molar out, timing meant I did not get my happy pill. I asked if they had gas, no. OK.
As they were (there were two of them) shoving their outsize instruments into my mouth and yanking first one way and then another, I felt strangely relaxed. I can’t say it was comfortable, most definitely not, but gazing up at the ceiling, relatively relaxed just like all the other times when I had popped a magic pill. Naturally I didn’t think too much of it at the time, nor when I had to go back to have a spit and polish, when ordinarily a valium and a mouthful of local anaesthetic was the order, this time I had none.
So what had changed I asked myself after it was all over. Could it be that the dentist was so much better than I had ever been to? No, I have seen some really good, pleasant and extremely patient dentists over the years.
Frankly, the hypnotist had been hypnotised! Without the hullaballoo. Without even trying. My mind was so used to going into this drug induced state, that when called upon, it did it all by itself. This particular trance state is used a lot by hypnotherapists working with addictions, by instantly allowing recovering addicts to experience a ‘high’ without the drugs.
Tooth Hurtee? Not any more!
By Heather Baggaley – © Copyright 2012 for Gloveman Supplies Ltd
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