I am a bonafide scaredy-cat. With a bargain basement threshold for pain, both physical and emotional, I am a wimp. There is no denying it.
With that out of the way, I herewith present a non-comprehensive list of things I fear:
- Mice. In fact, any small rodent that moves with speed and stealth. Or just sits in the corner twitching its whiskers at me.
- The big three c’s: conflict, confrontation, criticism. (One of my top strengths is HARMONY. Big surprise, huh?)
- Having blood taken (I just can’t.)
- Spiders. Sooo. Many. Legs.
- Driving onto railway tracks and getting stuck (a new fear, brought on by last night’s techno-vivid dream.)
- Social media. This used to be my happy place but now…no. Refer #2.
- Dentists. Or, more accurately, dentists’ chairs.
|*Not actually me!|
To be honest, my dentist is super-lovely. And kind. She has a knack for distracting me with engaging conversation and before I know it, BAM! I’m in the dreaded (although, really quite comfortable) chair and being handed the sunglasses and asked to open wide. The soothing hand on my shoulder suggests that fear is clearly visible in my posture, my expression, my five-fingernail grip on each chair-arm.
Oh, yes. The terror is real. Even before there is any diagnosis, any prodding, any of that intense cold thingamy used for diagnosis. You know the one? When it hits the sensitive tooth, you lift a foot out of the chair and the dentist says, “Found it!” After some discussion, I left with a prescription for Panadeine Forte and an appointment with an oral surgeon.
I am now minus a tooth, minus the pain, and listening to a voicemail from my dentist checking up on the surgery. She is super-nice but I don’t want to see her again any time soon.
|*Not me either!|
- The dark
- Germs and dirt
- Needles/injections (except when that needle is drawing blood.)