Going to
the dentist is something of a struggle for me. It is nothing personal against
the dentist (to be honest it is one of those professions I could never have
myself, but I am ever so grateful someone else does), but the smell and the
sounds combined with the total lack of control just drives me into the state of
nervous apprehension.
Never-the-less;
it is important to take care of your teeth, so regular visits to the dentist as
well as meticulous daily dental care are routines I really try to perform with
no evasion. No matter how nerve-racking I may find it.
Maybe it
seems a bit over the top, this aversion of mine, but to make a very long story
short: The state of my teeth has been severely damaged by problems caused by orthodontics
and then (embrace yourself for this one: )choleithiasis (for many years
mistaken to be an eating disturbance). Dentists have moaned and groaned over
the work they have been presented to whenever I have an appointment.
Last week I
had a terrible toothache. I have postponed pulling a tooth out for two years,
only because I have dreaded it, and three months ago I finally hurt so bad I
made an appointment for having the tooth surgically removed. There is a four
months waiting list…
I called
last week to ask how much painkillers I could take, and I was “lucky”: Someone
had cancelled their appointment, so I could come in and get the surgery done
the next day.
Anyway, a
very kind-looking middle aged woman called me and showed me the way to the
x-ray room, consecutively telling me about the procedure… not about the
tooth-pulling, mind you, but about the X-ray and how it would be exercised.
I walked
through the hallway, looking through every half shut door half ways dreading
(or secretly hoping?) to see someone twist and turn, strapped down to the
dentist’s chair, while cursing the dentist in muffled words you can’t really
understand, but the tone says it all.
None of
that: Everybody spoke in low voices and there was no frantic activity trying to
limit damages or prevent anyone getting hurt (due to reflexes, of course, not
intentionally). The sound of my steps was deadened by the high quality
resilient flooring. The thought hit me as I wandered behind the assistant down
the hall: “There is a lot of psychology going on here. These guys have come
across edgy patients before”.
The X-ray
went well. You do not get an X-ray film, too big to fit in your mouth, stuck in
your mouth, cutting the inside of your cheeks, to bite on anymore. It is merely
a stick you bite onto with your front teeth. Piece of cake! Well, not
literally, but you get the picture…ehm… understand .
In the
dentist’s chair I was wrapped up in green paper operation linen, and before
they covered my eyes I was told why; it was purely for the purpose of
protecting me from the really bright light. So comforting to be informed, but I
was still tense, my body was shivering and I just could not stop tears from
running.
Throughout
the entire procedure both the dentist and the assistant talked me through what
was going on, what they were going to do, what they had just done and they kept
patting my cheek, stroking my hair and gently pat my tears away. And they never
even mentioned it! I was not embarrassed or felt awkward about it at all!
I never
felt any hurt, never any kind of discomfort and I never sensed any impatience
or irritation at all. I was just taken care of.
As I was
about to leave I told the dentist thank you; “You really did well, thank you,
you are both good at what you do and you are a good man”. Maybe it was insanity
caused by relief, but I still stand for what I told him.
Especially
since he looked at me and told me: “You did really well yourself!”
