I had a choice to make last week. Endure yet another dental cleaning filled with inappropriate commentary about my brain tumor (story here), or pull on my big girl panties and address the matter head on.
I pulled on my big girl panties, a bit awkwardly, but I did it.
If not for the reminder call and opportunity to talk with the office manager who is my Dentist’s daughter, I probably would have never said a thing. It would’ve been yet another miserable experience, not only because I dread the cleaning itself, but because I know that I would’ve been subjected to answering endless insane questions about my brain tumor and then listen to endless insane commentary about matters I really don’t want to think or talk about.
I’m not sure I can even find a word or words to define how these appointments have made me feel. Let’s just simply say it has been awful.
I dug deep and found the courage to ask if it would be possible to maybe have another Hygienist. Or would she be able to tell my Hygienist to stop asking me about my brain tumor and telling me all about the impact one day of radiation and chemotherapy on my teeth?
Would it be possible to just sit in the chair and get my teeth cleaned in silence? I really would be most grateful. Please?
It was cathartic to finally, albeit through the grapevine, tell someone to finally shut the hell up!
So, aside from a palpable awkwardness, the hour was devoid of brain tumor talk although I could tell she was chomping at the bit waiting to dive right in if given the opportunity.
Happy to have finally found my big girl panties and reaping a reward for finally speaking up for myself, I sat back in the chair hoping that the universally accepted indicator of Leave Me The Hell Alone with my eyes closed, would work. Not so much. Maybe next time. Baby steps…