I survived the procedures (a crown prep, plus the excavation and filling of a small cavity in the next tooth over).

I think the biggest problem I have with dentistry is that my early memories are so bad - I had terrible teeth as a child, lots of fillings in baby teeth (why do they even fill deciduous teeth? I suppose it's a pain-prevention thing) and even a root canal before the age of 8.

And the first dentist I ever went to was a "grown up" dentist who thought maybe he could "sneak" the Novocaine injection into my mouth without my knowing. I wound up jumping as he "sneaked" and taking the needle in my earlobe. (Yes, really). After that he insisted my mother take me to a pedodontist (a children's dentist). That was OK, but this was apparently the era before the numbing gel used on teeth before the shots.

Later, I went (briefly) to a dentist who didn't quite understand how a person could dislike the Novocaine injections as strongly as I did - he used to sort of snarl at me that it only took a few seconds.

Fortunately, the dentist I have now is sort of low-key and jovial and he uses copious amounts of the numbing gel, so you don't really feel most of the injections. (Well, there's the one in the soft palate necessary for a crown prep, and he openly admits that that one is painful and there is nothing that can really take away the pain). And he's good - he's worked for enough years that he's very sure of what he's doing so he can work quickly and make decisions without dithering.

The one bad thing? As he was starting on the cavity, a patient who had been finished up came back and was apparently being quite demanding. He sort of patted me on the shoulder and quietly asked if it was OK for him to go and take care of whatever the demand was. I figured it was more stressful to me to sit and listen to someone gripe while he worked on me than it was for me to sit for a few more minutes before he could finish up, so I nodded.

I also have a metal temporary this time (and will ultimately have a gold tooth there, as it's so far back in my already-too-small jaw). Hopefully that will be far less likely to give problems than the crummy plastic temporary I had on the first prep.

I do think most of my dentist issues are old fears (fears of needles, so long ago I don't even remember the original incident that instilled the fear, and fear of being surprised by something that someone thinks they can sneak up on me). I'm too good at anticipating and assuming the worst will happen.

Years back, when I was suffering from a bad bout of insomnia (which was related to some stress going on in my life), the counselor I went to (in the hopes of head-shrinking myself out of the insomnia) commented at the end of the first session, "You're exceptionally good at dreading things, aren't you?"

Which is true, and I admit it, but it's not something I've been able to totally grow out of.

I will say I did not cry this time.

I feel I have earned a bit of a treat - I am going to take a trip to McKinney this weekend, to go to the main Happy Place (which I actually tried using as a mental image during the procedure) that I think of now - Quilt Asylum. My favorite quilt shop in the world (and I've been to a few). Part of the reason I love the place is that it's big and open and sunny, and the fabrics they choose to sell are mostly the bright and cheerful sort, with a heavy emphasis on retro designs and the Moda brand.

(I rolled over a CD over break - after consultation with my dad and consideration of the interest rates listed in the paper, I decided it was probably safest and the least effort to roll the thing over (the credit union where I had it matched the top rate I found at another bank). But I kept the couple hundred dollars interest, so I think I'm just going to consider that "fun money" and go and stimulate the economy a bit. Most of the stores in McKinney seem to be mom-and-pop type enterprises, so I feel like I'm supporting small business.)

If I can move myself to do it between now and Saturday, I'm going to try to get the binding on the Bento Box quilt and make the final decision of whether to be selfish and keep it, or to be generous and to take it to Quilt Asylum to give to Project Linus. (I like the quilt better now that it's quilted, but I have to admit I've kind of given up "ownership" of it since I considered the Project Linus angle. I am sure that even though some people might find the colors unappealing, there's probably a kid somewhere who would be happy with it.)