This series of personal posts is based on my true experiences as a neurodivergent individual – someone who views and experiences the world differently than what society labels normal. The posts are to bring awareness, education, and advocacy for those living with an invisible disability.
My Recent, Raw, Embarrassing Experience
Some find a dentist appointment is as easy as tying their shoe. They schedule it in their calendar and show up knowing that the health of their teeth is about to be tended to. For myself, I know oral health is crucial, I fully understand the purpose of annual check-ups, but as someone who is neurodivergent and experiences sensory sensitivity, going to a dentist appointment is a personal hell and one I would risk a cavity for. My latest appointment showed me how intensely the experience still affects me as a 31-year-old.
After putting off the dentist for three years, I finally accepted that I must face my fear and make an appointment. I knew I would most likely have a few cavities, and I was right. The basic cleaning and X-rays were uncomfortable but bearable. I had let the hygienist know about my sensory sensitivities before they began, and they were nice enough to understand and move things along as quickly as possible. She found two cavities. When the dentist came in to have a chat, I let her know what was going on and asked if I could have the laughing gas when I got the cavities filled at the next appointment. She smiled and said absolutely, easing a bit of my worry.
When I came back to get the two cavities filled, my legs were restless and I could feel tears in the backs of my eyes forming from anxiety. I reminded the dentist about my sensory situation and my request for laughing gas to help relax my anxiousness. It was a conversation I had practiced in my head multiple times before coming in.
“We don’t have that set up for today,” she said quickly, asking me to lay back.
She injected the numbing agent at the top of my gums and left me for it to take effect. I focused on the half-room’s TV until she returned, handing me my protective glasses. The dental assistant inserted a wedge to keep my mouth wide and they began.
The minute the drilling started I wanted to run. I kept my body completely still. My fingers forcefully popped the fidget toy I brought in my hand. I tried to dissociate and imagine myself walking through a Disney Park with my sister – taking pictures with the characters, riding the rides, the smell of the sweat treats. It worked for about a minute until the drilling got louder, causing my body and mind to go into a type of shock. The sound was as if the drill was going right through my skull. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to my happy place, but failed to do so.
I stared up at the dentist and assistant towering over me and suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in. My legs tensed and began shaking uncontrollably while a cold chill ran from my cheeks down to my toes. I tried to hide the heaves in my chest from the dentist and her assistant’s view as my heart began to pound. Who was I kidding? Of course they would see. Another cold chill ran through me.
Finally, I could no longer take it. I raised my hand for them to stop and shot up in my chair, only one of the two cavities filled. Tears immediately began streaming. I wanted to get up and run.
“I can’t take the sound,” I managed to say quietly.
“The drilling sound?” The dentist said gently. I nodded my head and took deep breaths.
“You didn’t think to bring some earplugs?” the assistant asked loudly.
“Let’s get her some,” the dentist suggested.
I nodded again, accepting the flimsy disposable earplugs and shoving them into my ears. I laid back down, turning my head to see the patients and hygienists in the next half-walled stations staring at me. And no, I did not feel like they were staring at me, they flat-out were and made eye contact. It was the most embarrassing moment I had experienced in a long time.
Silent tears streamed down my cheeks and pooled in the gap of my neck for the rest of the appointment. By this point, I knew my face must be red and puffy. The assistant tapped her tool hard against my teeth each time it was time to suck on the water pick. The last fifteen minutes felt like they went on forever and it took everything in me to not sit up again.
The dentist’s farewell remarks were a blurred daze as I quickly got my purse and exited into the waiting room where my mom was waiting for me. She immediately noticed my face and took care of paying while I went to go wait in the car. I sat in shock, blank-faced, the whole ride back to my parent’s apartment, only bursting into tears the minute we were safely inside. Both my mom and dad embraced me in a hug. While they do not experience a dentist appointment the same way I do, they understand why I would be upset.
My Thoughts on the Experience & What I Learned
Unfortunately, some people who don’t experience things the way we do think we must have interpreted the situation falsely or are too sensitive. It’s important to remember that everyone experiences things differently. For example, some people might fear needles and have a hard time getting their blood drawn, while I do not. Some, like me, might have a hard time with “simple” everyday tasks like feeling water on our skin in the shower, while others do not. The point is that all feelings and reactions are valid. What I learned from this appointment is although my experience was embarrassing, I know that my reaction was valid and that it’s okay to need accommodation. I now know to bring loud, heavy-duty earbuds the next time I go in!