Phobias

Yesterday evening we had an unexpected visit from John, a friend of ours who looked very pale so I asked him if he was all right.

‘I’ve just come from the dentist,’ he said, sinking onto a chair with evident relief. ‘He said I might have to have several teeth out and I’ve been so worried, I haven’t been able to sleep, and then I get stressed out and my stomach plays up and I haven’t known what to do.’

Himself, being of a practical, forthright nature, said, ‘It’s all mind over matter, John. You just need to programme your brain and stop all this.’

‘It’s not like that,’ I said. ‘Remember my panic attacks? Poor John, you’ve had a horrible time. I know just how you feel.’

John looked mightily relieved that I understood, and started telling us various instances in his childhood when he’d been badly hurt by a dentist culminating in this terrible fear of needles. No wonder the poor fellow’s in such a state over it all now. It’s been festering all these years.

John’s 68 and very much of the thinking that such things as phobias don’t exist, so I’m delighted he was able to tell the dentist of his fears. We share the same dentist who’s a lovely fellow and has said he can give John Valium next time, and a numbing gel for the injection, because he has an exceptionally low pain threshold.

‘I feel so stupid,’ John said, gulping down a glass of wine with shaking hands. ‘A great big bloke like me being frightened of a little needle. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But when has logic had anything to do with it?’

I do feel for him. I can remember all too well the feelings of shame and inadequacy I had when I had panic attacks, but being a six foot plus bloke who’s always been physically active all his life must make it seem even worse. Still, at least he could come and talk to us about it.

‘If there was anything I could change about myself, it would be this phobia,’ John said. ‘I hate having to live with it.’

Himself looked up and grinned. ‘Remember that cartoon?’ he said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘The patient’s sitting in the dentist’s chair and the dentist has a needle in his hand, so the patient grabs him by the balls.
The caption is, “We’re not going to hurt each other, are we?”

I was relieved to see that John gave a smile. A faint one, but it was there.