HOLDING ON

I recently found out I had a cracked tooth and needed a crown. I’ve had a few fillings before but that was back as a teenager and other than routine cleanings, I’ve not needed to see the dentist for decades.

I was nervous. One, because I was in pain and had been for over a month. So, the thought of someone poking around near the source of pain was not something I was looking forward to. Reason number two, I’ve been feeling increasingly unsafe and struggling on a daily basis.

CPTSD is a tricky devil like that. You can be going about your days just fine and then –BAM—your plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and an overall sense of pending doom. It’s different for everyone, of course, tailored precisely to one’s specific traumas. But for me, it really enjoys knocking me off my feet out of nowhere.

Backtrack here a little, I was supposed to have a ketamine infusion about a month ago. I was overdue and the holidays are rough and I had a twenty-four hour period of flashbacks so intense I couldn’t function. It’s the kind of not being able to function that the general population probably can’t understand.  A stuck-in-between past and present, head foggy, not clear if you’re speaking out loud or moving in real time, frozen in fight or flight so intense you need to hide away from the world and all sensory stimulation. I think being autistic probably makes those moments for me even more intense, but I really don’t know.

Anyway, after that day I started doing better. I was functioning well and finding moments of joy, and insurance doesn’t pay for my treatment, so I decided rather than spending the $450 that I really don’t have to spend, I’d tough it out.

Bad idea.

I’m clear on my political stand points, no shame or regrets whatsoever. The disregard for life, abuse and mistreatment of people, and just all around morally and ethically wrong behavior going on in the USA under the Nazi regime of a fascist leader (not to mention pedophile and criminal) has been impossible to ignore. You cannot possibly be alive in America right now and not be aware of the atrocities going on. Unless you live under a rock –which is becoming more and more appealing these days.

My sense of safety has been shaken. And feeling unsafe is my number one trigger. So, to say I’ve been struggling, well that’s kind of obvious to anyone who knows me even a little.

There’s a point to all this, I promise, stick with me here.

So there I am, at the dentist, ready for my procedure. I requested nitrous oxide, something I’ve never had before. But my jaw has been hurting extra bad, I have jaw damage and TMJD already, plus the cracked tooth, and a possible issue with my salivary gland that I’ve been seeing the ENT for. I’m in a lot of pain and dreading what’s about to happen with every fiber of my being.

My best friend made me a cat fidget to keep my hands busy. I requested a blanket and the weighted vest they have you wear for x-rays. The dental hygienist put on relaxing music for me and then the oxygen nose covering over my face. And I waited.

And panic set in.

At this point I asked for my husband because I could feel my panic rising and the tears forming and I knew I wasn’t far off from a panic attack.

He came in and held my hand. And then the dentist came in. I am not always great at advocating for myself. I don’t like to share how deep my trauma goes. How broken I sometimes am. But that little voice in my head said speak up, now. And I knew it was my only chance. Because if I got too far into the PTSD symptoms, I would lose my ability to communicate.

I told the dentist the truth. I have CPTSD and I struggle greatly in situations where I feel like I don’t have control of my own body.

He was kind and patient, telling me he would work with me and check on me and give me breaks as often as I needed. He was honest, saying that I would not have complete control once the process started. But he would do everything he could to help me feel safe.

He started the nitrous oxide and after about ten minutes I was finally calm enough for the procedure to begin. My husband went to the waiting room because I was doing ok and there wasn’t much room.

A bite plate was placed in my mouth on one side, some kind of cardboard on the other. The oxygen and nitrous oxide hose was pressed down on my face tightly. The hygienist was on my left, leaning against me with the suction. The dentist was on my right with the drill. The smell was strong, the sound was loud, everything felt cold. I was being held down. And I began to panic, gripping the blanket, hyperventilating. It happened fast and they didn’t notice, because I took in so much nitrous oxide so quickly I stopped feeling my body, couldn’t move my hands. Everything went slack.

The dentist asked me at one point if I was ok and to give him a thumbs up, but I couldn’t. He stopped everything, took the blanket and weighted vest off me when I told him I couldn’t feel my hands, then lowered the nitrous oxide and let me have a break before resuming again.

Honestly I was ok in that state of not feeling, it was better than the alternative of feeling too much. And once the nitrous oxide fully left my system and I was back in a vulnerable position of two people bent over me and zero control whatsoever of protecting myself, a full on flashback ensued.  I’m talking unable to breathe, eyes bulging from my head, tears cascading down my face, can’t speak, trapped in absolute hell.

The hygienist and dentist knew right away something was wrong. Everything stopped, except the oxygen because clearly I needed it. I could barley speak but managed to get out the word “husband” and someone went to get him. While I waited, gasping for air, locked in a state of terror, the hygienist gently patted my hair and the dentist kept repeating, “It’s ok, you’re safe, you’re safe.”

Just writing this is making me cry. Because I have never, in all my days, been treated that kindly during a flashback or panic attack by anyone except my husband.

And these two strangers, both of whom I only met for the first time the previous week, were there with me, talking me through it, being patient and kind and just showing so much compassion and humanity.

Something that our world is lacking in right now so very much. Something that so many of us desperately need.

I was embarrassed, I still am. It’s hard being so completely vulnerable in front of others and having zero control over stopping it.

But, despite how awful an experience it was to have a flashback publicly and be that emotionally raw, it showed me that there is good out there. There are people who genuinely care.

And that, I know, is what I must hold on to.