Happy Tuesday WordPressers.
I went to the dentist yesterday. Going to the dentist always reminds me of how I absolutely despise going to the doctor but I can easily tolerate a dentist appointment. I do have a significant advantage because my mom is the dentist I see and dentistry is an all consuming entity for her. I’ve grown up with dentistry in my face. Both my grandfathers were dentists as well. One loved it and the other hated it, but nevertheless I have become very comfortable with dentistry.
I guess some people feel uncomfortable around the dentist because you have to surrender your mouth to them. You can’t easily talk to the dentist and it can burst the personal space bubble people have. And apparently that’s worse than having someone poke and prod you… I don’t think so.
I am a minor iatrophobe. IN A VERY DRAMATIC SENSE. It’s probably a normal anxiety but I seriously get more nervous than usual around doctors. I don’t appreciate the poking and prodding very much and I usually go to the doctor when something hurts. I don’t go for “check ups”. And when something hurts they usually tell me I have to take a bazillion weeks off from dance and that always upsets me. I want to work hard and improve; I don’t want to lose anything that I’ve gained. And whenever I’m injured or I stop dancing for more than a few days I get really frustrated because I don’t want to recess in my abilities. If there’s anything I hate, it’s losing progress.
Plus doctors never fail to make me faint. I haven’t always been a fainting individual. It really started in sixth grade when I was 11. And it’s haunted me ever since. Fainting is just extremely inconvenient, not to mention slightly embarrassing. I am, once again, reduced to a state of frustration. And doctors always ask questions that I don’t want to answer. And they press the issue. They don’t stop asking. If I don’t answer the first time, they find a way to slip the question into the conversation again. I know I probably should answer. They are concerned with my health, but if something really was bothering then I would ask. Whatever bothered me would be the first thing I say to the doctor. I’m used to that policy because that’s how I like to talk to my parents about touchy subjects. If there’s a problem I will come to them but I don’t want them hanging over me.
That policy doesn’t always work either.
Oh well. Nothing’s perfect.
There is my rant for the day…
Stay Excellent!
Cranberry Lorraine
Secrets of St. Francis High School 