I am really happy with my new dentist. It was kind of like getting my hair done. You know how your hair dresser talks to you about your personal life? My dentist was doing that. It was kind of hard to talk to him with tools in my mouth though. I enjoyed that he asked me "Are you doing ok?" but then he was literally asking me that every 30 seconds. I am not lying. I counted. 2x in 30 seconds. I started to get aggrevated. I seriously thought about biting his finger.
Anyways, I am a horrible patient at the dentist. I always have been too. I imagine myself being 50 years old and still fighting back tears as I sit in the chair. It was nice that he was talking to me so much because it distracted me from when he gave me the novacaine injection. He left the room for a while and when the numbness hit me it hit me hard. All over. I felt tears roll down my cheek and I had to quickly get myself back together. I started thinking about that needle and that's what did it for me. I am so sick of needles. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. When I went through the ectopic pregnancy I swear I was a pin cushion. I got my blood taken every other day for a month straight. Monitoring the numbers going up and then monitoring them going down. Not to mention my arm looked like I was a drug addict.
Joe and I were lying in bed this morning playfully arguing over who is going to do my injections. I fear I won't be able to do it. I pray I have the strength not to mess this up. I have to turn my face even when Gia gets a shot. How am I going to do this to myself? We thought about who we are close enough to ask help us but there is really no one. I don't mind though. I really want us to go through this together- alone.
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