Quit Needling Me And Fix My Filling!

I’m at the dentist’s office getting a loose filling fixed, and helping me is a lady I’ve only seen once before. She’s an elderly lady who talks in a very soft and gentle voice, kind of like how you would talk to a child. I’ve been frequenting this dental office all thirty-one years of my life, and it’s in their files I have autism (ergo, high sensitivity) and anxiety issues, so I can’t help but wonder if she just talks that way or does it on purpose for me.

Today is a hot summer day, and I’m wearing shorts and a tank top. I have several tattoos on my arms. 

The moment I walk in, she says:

Dentist: “Well, aren’t you dressed like you’re on vacation?! It can’t be that hot out, can it?”

Me: “The air conditioning in here is certainly deceiving. Outside in the sun is a different ball game.”

I lay down in the chair and get anxious about the procedure. She asks if I want to be numbed.

Me: “Yes, please. My gums are really sensitive. I have to admit, the needle for the numbing makes me very anxious, but it’s shorter suffering, so I’ll take it.”

Dentist: “Well, it’s a simple procedure, and I doubt if you need one after all. You’re a big girl. You can do without, can’t you?”

Me: “No. Please don’t underestimate how sensitive I am in my mouth. I’d like to be sedated.”

The way she talks to me makes me uncomfortable, but she agrees to numb me. She then changes her tone like she is trying to console a child.

Dentist: “Okay, we’re going to use the teeny-tiny needle for this, then. You won’t even feel it, I promise! You won’t even feel that nasty numb sensation.”

My discomfort rises to the point that I’m having a minor anxiety attack. My legs start shaking, I start to cry, and I’m fighting to keep my breathing under control. I apologize and ask her to give me a second to catch my breath.

Dentist: “Come on, open up! I don’t have all day!”

I oblige, but my hands are clenching the chair, and I’m still at the mercy of my anxiety. She numbs in different spots. She mentions putting the needle near my roots, and I yelp as I can really feel the needle there. The assistant who is also there is really nice and tells me to direct my breathing to my lower abdomen, while the dentist makes a quite misplaced comment.

Dentist: “You can be who you want to be here. It’s okay.” 

What?

When she’s done, I ask her politely:

Me: “Could you maybe please not explicitly mention what you’re doing? The less I know, the better, actually.”

Dentist: *Suddenly very blunt* “You’re so weird.”

Me: *Pauses* “Excuse me?”

Dentist: *To her assistant* “Don’t you think she’s weird? I don’t get it at all!”

Me: “Care to explain?”

Dentist: “Oh, excuse me. I wasn’t aware I was saying something strange! You have tattoos all over! How can you be afraid of needles?” 

Me: *Pauses again* “That’s not comparable at all.”

I was still upset and anxious and just wanted her to get it over with. Luckily, the numbing was starting to work, the assistant continued to be lovely, and the rest of the procedure was pretty painless, despite the fact that she needed to redo the new filling twice.