Or here’s another pet peeve of mine... (I copied and pasted (my) story from another thread.
Pet peeve: ‘Just whatever you do, don’t move’
Definitely am not a fan of the dentist. I think part of the reason is bad previous experiences as a kid, people treating me differently (acting like I can't comprehend/answer questions just because I'm neurodiverse) and I think the biggest reason is that I get very, very stressed meeting new people, or talking/seeing people that I don't know very well, and I guess that I get really anxious when I not only have to answer questions etc, I have to be willing to let them stick me with needles, scrape my teeth (agh.... that sound...) and just you know, do stuff to me that I don't even let my family/friends do (like sticking their hand in my mouth
)
This is a bit rambly and graphic, so consider this your warning.
One of my most traumatic experiences was a couple of years ago.
First off, a little background: while I was sick, I learned that one of my parakeets had died, which was terribly heartbreaking. I also learned that what I had thought, and even the doctor thought when I got it checked, was a sprained ankle, turns out it had been broken and sprained - and I had been walking on it for 6 months.
On to the story: It wasn't a dentist exactly, but had to do with my mouth. I had been sick for a couple days as mentioned - fever, terrible sore throat, etc.
I went into the urgent care after I found that I couldn't speak or open my mouth much at all.
At urgent care, they at first thought it was just a bad cold, but then when I told them (very quietly, as I couldn't speak well) that I had trouble opening and closing my mouth, they were pretty certain it was something else. They checked my throat, and sure enough, they could tell that one of my tonsils was really swollen.
They had a suspicion that it was a peritonsillar abscess but weren't completely sure, so they sent me to the ER (which was about half an hour away). Once I got there, they looked and confirmed that it was a peritonsillar abscess.
They had me go back to a room, change into a gown, and (I thought this was super cool
) was able to stick only one needle in to get a blood draw and an IV.
It was about 3:00 pm by this time, so I ended up just staring at the ceiling and trying not to freak out.
It was really busy, so I had to wait a couple of hours before seeing the ENT doctor.
At around 5:00/6:00 pm, the ENT doctor came in and took a look. He said that he thought it needed to be drained, but these were the three options:
1. Do an MRI to see how bad it truly is, but this would mean staying overnight.
2. Try antibiotics alone and see if it clears up
3. Go ahead and do the procedure.
I thought about it a little bit, then, although I was super scared, ended up choosing the 3rd option, which was to go ahead and do the procedure. I was in a lot of pain and just wanted it to be done. I asked if they could do a general anesthetic: Nope.
So, I waited a little bit longer (it was probably around 7:00 pm by this time) and he came back with the tools. (scary looking, btw)
He sat me up in the hospital bed, had me open my mouth, and gave me one, single instruction:
"Whatever you do, don't move"
He put a little bit of numbing gel onto my tonsil, then tried to inject the numbing medicine.
The problem was that a) he kept dripping it down my throat and b) I have an incredibly strong gag reflex, and c) I started to choke on it. He decided then that I'd be fine, and had my sister hold the suction (poor, poor sister... why not get a nurse?)
He stuck a syringe into the incredibly tender abscess, with me trying my best not to gag, cry, jerk, whatever. Tears were just streaming down my face... I kept gagging, over and over, in incredible pain as he attempted to pull the pus out of the abscess. Blood was kind of splattered everywhere, I was trying not to gag and cry, and he seemed rather frustrated with me.
He took a scalpel, and reinforced the command "Whatever you do, don't move", then proceeded to put the scalpel down my throat to cut the abscess open. He cleaned it up a little, cleaned up the tools, and left. That was kind of the end.
First off, I can be pretty squeamish.
Second, I was trying, really trying not to move, or gag, but it's a reflex and I couldn't control it.
Third, this was by far the most painful experience of my life. Even compared to breaking bones, cramps, root canal, etc.
Fourth, I am a picky eater. Let me tell you that a mixture of pus, saline, and blood does not taste good.
Fifth, I just really wish I had been more comfortable. Oh well.
Ok, this sounded VERY complain-y, and I certainly am being so.
However, I know that it probably wasn't the doctor's fault - it was busy, late at night, and I'm sure he was tired. I'm still grateful that it was taken care of, I just wish my experience hadn't been so terrible.
Sorry, very rambly indeed.
No... scraping?
It makes me mad that you were treated this way, Lemon. This made me cry.
