Bone doctors and hypno-dentists
In many ways it was a good job Dad waited 'til he was in Brighton before going to causalty. His foot was very swollen so they admitted him and he is now languishing on a ward in the ambitiously-titled Millennium Tower at the Royal Sussex. If he had gone straight away, he might have been languishing in the less appealing MRSA tower of a certain local hospital.
The specialist is yet to decide whether or not to operate. In the meantime, his days aren't too different to if he was at home - sitting around watching telly and reading. Except there, his meals are brought to his bed.
During the week, I faced my fear of dentists teeth-on and went for a check up. I saw the special hypno-dentist, who put me in the chair and proceeded to ask me about my childhood.
As I sat there shaking like a small girl, tears pricking the backs of my eyelids, he took me back to the days of my old dentist - fillings without asking my permission; pink plaster sliming down the back of my throat during impression making; painful braces, the scars of which I can still feel on the insides of my cheeks; screaming the surgery down during lightly-anaethatised wisdom teeth extractions; the injection going deeper and deeper and deeper into my gums; tongues and cheeks getting sucked into the sucky tube thing and, of course, the sound of the drill.
He concluded that I had had bad experiences in the past and relive them as a child would every time I get into the chair. Does this count as psychotherapy?
A couple of x-rays later, and it was discovered my teeth are fine and I was worrying over nothing. He did, however, con me into buying TWO bottles of mouthwash. The dentist's patient is a vunerable patient.
Right, off to work now. Driving TOH's car, which should be interesting. And camping this weekend!
The specialist is yet to decide whether or not to operate. In the meantime, his days aren't too different to if he was at home - sitting around watching telly and reading. Except there, his meals are brought to his bed.
During the week, I faced my fear of dentists teeth-on and went for a check up. I saw the special hypno-dentist, who put me in the chair and proceeded to ask me about my childhood.
As I sat there shaking like a small girl, tears pricking the backs of my eyelids, he took me back to the days of my old dentist - fillings without asking my permission; pink plaster sliming down the back of my throat during impression making; painful braces, the scars of which I can still feel on the insides of my cheeks; screaming the surgery down during lightly-anaethatised wisdom teeth extractions; the injection going deeper and deeper and deeper into my gums; tongues and cheeks getting sucked into the sucky tube thing and, of course, the sound of the drill.
He concluded that I had had bad experiences in the past and relive them as a child would every time I get into the chair. Does this count as psychotherapy?
A couple of x-rays later, and it was discovered my teeth are fine and I was worrying over nothing. He did, however, con me into buying TWO bottles of mouthwash. The dentist's patient is a vunerable patient.
Right, off to work now. Driving TOH's car, which should be interesting. And camping this weekend!
posted by The WyeBird @ 8:57 am
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