I am a bit of a hypochondriac and I have a fear of going to the doctor and dentist. That doesn’t make much sense because if I were a true hypochondriac, I would want to go to the doctor or dentist to find out what it is that I “think” I might have and treat it if I indeed do have it. Wrong! If I have what I “think” I have, I don’t want to know what I will have to endure to cure it. My family loves, and I mean LOVES to play with my mind too. I will say something along the lines of…“Man I have a headache.”, and they are so quick to respond with…“Maybe it is a brain tumor?” and plant the seed of anxiety and fear. Or my pops will make up some disease and proclaim that they had a report about it on the news and it is taking over the world. I know that when his lips are moving, it is usually a lie. When I was little, the mother unit wouldn’t tell me I had a dentist or doctor appointment until the night before the appointment. I would then spend the whole night making myself sick to my stomach in worry. After 1 too many nights of me throwing up because of worry, she got smarter and wouldn’t tell me until we were in the car and on the way to the appointment. Then she had to endure sitting in the doctors office with me while I was chanting over and over again…“I want to go home right now, right now, right now. Please take me home.”

My fear of doctors and dentists stems from 2 bad experiences I had as a child. Now the mother unit will tell you a different story about what happened at the ENT’s office when I had to have my earplugs (due to ear infections) taken out, but I know that mine is the truer version. It was so painful when it was time for them to come out. They are normally supposed to just fall out, but mine did not and I remember being taken to the doctor screaming in pain on a hot summer afternoon. Was I put out? No, instead they forcefully held me down to the table while they wrapped a bed sheet around me and the table so I wouldn’t move for the procedure and then extracted those earplugs. Traumatic I tell you. Traumatic!

For the dentist, I was a bit older and needed a tooth pulled because the one that it was replacing would not come out on its own. The dentist said that it would only take maybe 15 minutes at the most. Well 2-1/2 hours later I was still there having my tooth pulled. Those mean pliers were wrapped around my tooth and with a swift tug the tooth broke in pieces and the dentist let out an unexpected…“Oho.” OHO! WHAT DO YOU MEAN OHO!?!? Apparently my tooth was fused to the bone and I should have had an oral surgeon take it out.

Even after all of this, I enjoy working in the medical field. I want to watch every procedure known to man, but if any doctor tries to come at me with any scalpel, needle, or scope…I’m out-a-there!