But God…

I could always count on my mama to have my back and take up for me if I was hurting. This day was no exception, as her display of seeking justice for me showed up loud and clear in the dentist’s office.

I was maybe 9 or 10 as I recall one terrifying moment in old Doc McKeever’s office. My mom was waiting in the waiting room for me. The dentist had found a job that needed to be done in my mouth. Back in those days, they would sometimes use a mouth covering called a rubber dam, and with that spread completely over my mouth to keep it open, it had just a small area for the dentist to do his work.

Being young and having no prior experience with a rubber dam, I was clueless about not being able to breathe through my mouth. I had to breathe only through my nose, with no warnings or instructions. The doctor proceeded to do his job. Suddenly aware that I could not breathe, I began to panic, squirming around and reaching up toward my mouth to yank that thing off. My eyes, full of panic and terror, caused old McKeever to quickly respond with even more determination to control the situation by pushing my hands away and shoving me back down into the chair.

Accompanied by angry frustration, the confrontation between my mom’s little girl and the “adult” in the other room suddenly got my mom’s attention. She became well aware of a serious situation. She promptly put down her Family Circle or Woman’s Day magazine, where she more than likely had found a yummy recipe she was copying down on the back of an old bank receipt she had found crumpled up in the bottom of her purse.

I don’t recall the final outcome of that appointment that day; however, I can imagine I left there with the same cavities I came in with just minutes earlier and a sad but frustrated mother. I don’t know why I found it hard to breathe through my mouth when I was young—sinus problems, perhaps—Mama had them also. But one thing I do remember is the terror and fear it instilled in me for years… say, maybe 60-some years, along with unforgiveness toward old Doc McKeever and a settled mindset, being convinced that dentists are mean and they only want to hurt you.

Fueled by a negative mindset, I recalled a few more trips to the dentist, which caused me a lot of stress and anxiety. Memories of old Doc McKeever always came flooding back. I got pretty good at shoving those memories under the rug, but one last incident, just a few short years ago, caused it all to surface once again.

I had quite a lot of pain, and I needed a root canal done. I knew I was strong, and as an adult, I figured I could handle it. So the day came, and I went to my dentist alone.

I might add, my mother was not going to come to my defense this time.

I was all numbed up, and as far as the doc was concerned, he was ready to start his work. I nearly jumped out of the chair. It didn’t feel like I was numb at all, so the dentist went to Plan B: laughing gas on top of the shot of Novocaine. That would surely do it, so I waited fearfully, dreading his next move. Sure enough, the first thing he tried to do shot so much pain through me that I couldn’t help but scream out. He stopped and said he just didn’t have any other options, and if ever I came back to him, he would be doing his work across the street. The emergency room of the hospital was directly across the street from his office. He let me know he was through trying that day.

I left not only with pain still in my mouth, but also feeling very much like a failure—rejected and humiliated that I, as an adult, could not tolerate dental pain.

As I prayed about the situation, God so sweetly reminded me of a God encounter that I had had several years earlier during a revival meeting at our church. I had my teeth prayed for, and He so graciously reassured me that He was healing my teeth that night. My husband was unable to attend church with me, and I had not had the chance to tell him about the night before. We met for lunch, and right away, when he saw me smile, he noticed my “new gold tooth.” Surprised, he said to me, “Have you always had that gold tooth?” I was as stunned as he was because when I left church the night before, there was no sign of a gold tooth. But after he noticed it, I had to run to the bathroom and look into the mirror. Sure enough, there was my gift from God—a gold tooth. I had been visited during the night by a heavenly dentist. My bonus was no more need for a root canal—what I had asked for, I got!

Praising God for such a miracle, again I asked Him to protect and keep me from the pain that I surely would have from the bad roots. I asked Him to be my dentist again and keep my mouth from needing a dentist!

Now this was 20 years later, and I had need of dental work before I could get my dental pass so that I could continue with my cancer treatment. My doctor said I had just a small window of time to get my dental work done before I could start on my medicine, and I needed to start right away. I knew I must get going soon on my treatment. It had already been two months since I was diagnosed with stage four bone cancer and was given a very negative report about my future.

Knowing the importance of getting my teeth cleaned, as well as any repairs that needed to be done and taken care of, I agreed, made the necessary appointment, and began this part of my journey with much dread, however.

I knew fear, dread, stress, and anxiety were not from God. The enemy will use any trauma from our past to rob our peace and joy and cause us to lose faith.

We talked to the doctor about being sedated. They agreed that would be a good idea. The appointments were made, and soon the day arrived. We drove the 2 1/2 hours to Spokane, signed in at the front desk, and waited. Soon a nurse came in and called my name. They took us back to a room, got me ready for the doctor, and soon he came in.

It was obvious that he planned on working on me as he would any other patient. We asked him about sedation. His response was with a surprised tone: “We do not sedate here. We are not a hospital!”

Wow! What an unexpected response. Even after our explanation of our understanding of what to expect, he showed little concern for me or my unfounded fears. He then proceeded to educate us as to what tricks he had available to reduce pain, and then he said we should talk about it and he would check back with us as to whether or not to proceed.

With tears streaming down my face, I was overwhelmed with fear and all kinds of emotional concerns!