Old fears

Earlier this week I had a look through the information I've been given about the 4th leg of treatment. At my last chemo-based appointment in January I was given literature about Zoledronic Acid.  I will receive this in drip form every six months over the next three years to strengthen my bones. Osteoporosis is an apparently inevitable side effect of the treatment I've been having and this medication should reduce the risk of fractures etc. Reading through the pack of stuff I noticed the notes the oncologist had made at the time- 'Dentist check' is there in large print. I realised I'd not acted on this despite being aware that this treatment cannot begin without a dental check up. With my next Burnley appointment being just two days later this set me off pondering.

So in the last 7 months I've had two operations, been yomping around Lancashire having chemotherapy and radiotherapy with needles and cannulas galore, but I haven't managed to make a dentist appointment a few minutes from home! And being honest this week, I've had to admit to myself that I didn't just forget, I'm scared of going to the dentist! It was time to have a look at this as 58 year old Liz really can't see anything to be afraid of so this really must be old stuff.

My first dentist was a gentleman called Mr Clegg. His claim to fame was that he was the official dentist for the St.Helens Rugby League team. The signs were there really as most of the players didn't have a tooth in their head! I remember going for my first check-up. I don't remember any explanation but I do remember a needle and refusing to open my mouth. The next time I went, I was told I needed a tooth out. I was also told that this was my own fault for refusing to open my mouth for a filling the time before. The extraction felt brutal. In my memory I was held down while the gas mask was forced over my nose and mouth then rubber bits were pulled around my face to hold the mask in place. I can still feel that cold rubber and hear the sound of my breath inside the mask. I remember dreaming and the dream was about the day I was told I needed a tooth out. I woke up to the words "It's all over" from the dental nurse and felt such relief that the dream and the extraction were done with.

My next dentist was called Miss Taylor and to reach her surgery we had to get a bus to the other side of St.Helens. As I think back to those appointments, I'm struck by how horrible they must have been for my poor Mum. The one that stands out the most in my mind was when I got so upset that Miss Taylor threatened to slap my face if I didn't calm down. Mum explained afterwards that that's what you have to do when someone becomes hysterical. Personally I thought the woman was a monster and I dreaded those 6 month check-ups. Mum employed a variety of techniques to deal with my growing dental phobia. She'd tell me we were going to the Pilkington Glass Museum which I loved. Then at the last minute, once we were on the bus, she'd tell me we were just calling at the dentists on the way. And I remember that bus- with the words 'Dunriding Lane' on the front. It sent chills through my body whenever I saw it. And that was a bit grim as it drove past our house every hour. I used to avoid looking out of the window around the time the bus was due so I didn't have to set eyes on it. One of Mum's strategies was to give me some pink medicine she got from my auntie (who worked in the chemists) to calm me down. (I think she got me to take it by telling me it was vitamins). Then one morning she told me I had a dentist appointment later that day but that I needn't worry because the pink medicine would keep me calm. I cant say I noticed. I don't remember at what point my Mum gave up on the 6-monthly dental ordeal but I have no recollection of being dragged off to see Miss Taylor from my early teens.

I hated my teeth if the truth be known. The ones at the front were too big and I was called names. I guess the gift in that was that 'Goofy' and 'Bugs Bunny' stood me in good stead for other name calling I was to experience later- I was called 'lesbian' long before I knew what one was! And at some point, I must have subconsciously made the decision to let my teeth go bad so I could have them all out and get false ones. I'd heard tales of people getting false teeth as a wedding present and it was my own experience to walk into the bathroom in an evening and see both my parents smiling at me from their respective tooth mugs. I was a bit of a bugger as a kid and seem to recall swapping those false teeth about a fair bit between the containers.

I was 17 when I next went to the dentist and I went alone and under my own steam. I didn't even tell my parents I'd found a new dentist and booked myself in. And this dentist was lovely. At the first appointment I told him I wanted to have all my teeth out. Looking back, he was so patient and gentle and I was able to explain how I felt about my teeth. I hated them and wanted false ones for when I left home and went to university. The dentist offered me an alternative- crowns! Up to this point I didn't know such things existed and was over the moon at this option. So I had the necessary procedures including removal of nerves, impressions, numerous fillings and posts inserting into the roots of my front teeth- after those teeth had been drilled off down to gum level. I went alone to all these appointments and only told my parents what I was up to after the temporary crowns had been fitted. I suspect Mum felt a mix of pride and relief that she'd had to play no part in the process!

My subsequent dental encounters have been rather stop-start and I only signed up with my current dentist when a huge filling fell out leaving me with painful tooth ache. He's a gentle and kind chap who explains everything. I signed up for Denplan- my way of  reminding myself it really was sensible to have regular check-ups and treatments. This was not unlike my attempts at fitness when I first signed up for a gym. Membership and attendance were two very different things then too and once I'd bought a new tracky I never set foot in the place again. I wore the shell suit for school though, on account of  my two PE lessons a week and lunchtime clubs- waste not want not and all that!

So having reviewed my mental dental track record, what did I conclude? For sure 58 year old Liz can see no real reason to be afraid of my lovely dentist. However, 8 year old Liz is still in there kicking and screaming. I was undecided whether to slap her face or give her a cuddle but accepted that it was definitely time to book an appointment. If teenage Liz knew that sometimes there's a higher good (crowns) to outweigh the fear, clocking on towards old age Liz knew that my old bones need the support of the drug available and the least I could do was go and see the fecking dentist to make this possible!

By now it was the day before my Herceptin appointment in Burnley so I phoned the dentist to make an appointment- at least I could tell them at the hospital that I'd got this appointment. I'd already started to rehearse the 'oh the dentist is so busy its taken me ages to get booked in' excuses and was just a bit gobsmacked when the cheery receptionist informed me they'd had a cancellation and I could go at 8.20am the following morning. Slipping into woowoo thinking, I marvelled once again at the way the Universe clears a way forward for us when we put the effort in and do the necessary self-work to prepare to move forward.

So Friday was a long but productive day. As I set off from home there was a flock of starlings sitting in the big tree by the house. Not unlike a scene from the Hitchcock movie they were rather unnerving. So I decided to imagine they were seagulls and walked up to the car singing 'If I had a photograph of you, something to remind me...'

At 8.15am I walked into the dentists waiting room. I'd taken all my meds and treatment details to update their records. There's a checklist I normally scan read and respond to by saying 'Naa, I'm really well thanks'. Admin sorted, I climbed the stairs to the cheery surgical space- bright colours, prints of trees and flowers. Its a lovely space and, internally running the words to 'Trees grow tall in the heart of the forest' I climbed into the chair. Check-up completed and only needing one little filling under a molar crown, I was asked whether I'd like my teeth cleaning and polishing then or at the follow-up filling appointment. The honest answer would have been 'No, I'd rather not have that done ever again!' I hate that bit! The things about old fears, however irrational, is accepting they are there and managing them in the best way possible. So I asked him to do it there and then so I didn't need to think about it (and blow it up out of all proportion in the run up to filling day). Easy peasy it was and I was home for 9am!

After this early morning old-fear slaying excursion I had the welcome respite of time with a lovely friend. A reminder that however solitary a journey may feel and however personal a lesson may be, its the folks who make the time to walk with us that really make a difference.

The afternoon saw me back in Burnley and it really was lovely to see people on the Edith Watson Unit. How do those folks who see so many people each day remember our names? Herceptin injection done and blood test taken in preparation for the new meds, I set off home- to bed. We've got an adventure as we start to celebrate Spring Equinox this weekend so I gave myself a good long rest to prepare. This year more than ever before I want to welcome in the Spring and all it brings with it.

Liz x