Photo by @sarabakhshi on Unsplash
We last left our heroine (me!) recovering from a near death dental horror story (check the blog for Part 2 if you missed it).
I was petrified as Mom drove me to the oral surgeon’s office to get my 3 remaining wisdom teeth removed. The surgical nurse made me comfortable in the dental chair and strapped down both my arms “for safety.”
Anxiety level: DEFCON 1.
She fitted a mask over my nose and turned on the gas “to help you relax.” Yah, boy, I started relaxing pronto and wasn’t bothered at all when she inserted a needle into my arm and taped it down. “Just a little sedative, dear,” she said as she tapped the plunger. She left me for a few moments for the drugs to take effect.
As I lay there, I was amazed at the excellent canned music they were piping into the room. Henry Mancini and his Orchestra were rockin’ the Beatles “Yesterday” and I started singing along and bopping my head. My friend, the beautiful nurse, was magically by my side again and with a little laugh asked if I was feeling ok. “Oh yeah, I feel amazing,” I purred. I was loving the music, loving the nurse, the chair was excellent, the lighting was sublime and I hadn’t even met the oral surgeon yet.
Gently, the fabulous nurse told me I couldn’t sing or move my head anymore until the procedure was done. The oral surgeon materialized out of nowhere as I levitated above the chair to the strains of “Fly Me to the Moon.” The extractions began and except for being aware of hands in my mouth I was content to happily lie there. “Doing ok?” from the oral surgeon or nurse was met by an “Undaful,” from me. As the canned music launched into “Blame It On the Bossa Nova,” the oral surgeon said, “All done, good girl!” and mysteriously vanished.
The incredible nurse gave me some oxygen, removed the needle from my arm and released the straps holding my arms down. She steered me to tiny recovery room but the music wasn’t nearly as groovy. I was happily painless as she left me but growing weary. Time passed and the nurse reappeared. I got up on rubbery knees, grinned and staggered toward her and my Mom (people kept appearing and disappearing mysteriously during this whole thing).
“Oh boy,” Mom laughed. “You are really out of it.” As Mom and I did a drunken samba past the reception desk, I cheerfully waived, “Stay high, ladies! “Oh brother,” Mom sighed. “I’ve got to get you home pronto.”
I don’t remember anything else about that day or my recovery. It must have gone well and I chalk up a lot of the forgetfulness to the drugs. For someone who entered that office in a state of abject fear, the experience was better than I even imagined. I’m forever grateful to the oral surgeon and his nurse.
Lesson learned: You are responsible for you. Hire people who have experience, who listen to you, who care about you and how you’ll be once you achieve your goals. If you’re fearful, hire a guide to help you get where you want to be, to encourage you and stay with you during the tough parts. And PS, you’re not going to need to be medicated for most of your challenges.
You know I’d love to help you move toward your dreams. How about clicking this button Click for a free session! and checking out my FREE Groundwork session? You can leave me a comment and let me know how you’ve navigated through a fearful situation. You know I love hearing from you!
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