The Friendly Dentist

I hate dentists! Don’t get me wrong, my dentist is a very likeable guy. It’s not the person that I detest, it’s the profession. I can’t understand why anyone in their right mind would want to spend eight hours a day with their hands in someone else’s mouth. And the dental hygienist is no better. When she is doing her cleaning routine it reminds me of fingernails scraping on a chalkboard.

My first experience with a dentist was when I was quite young. I had acquired a small cavity and it needed to be filled. The family dentist at that time was an older gentleman who had his practice in an equally old building downtown. The place was dark and foreboding. I was filled with trepidation as I opened the heavy wooden door and timidly entered. I guess the doctor thought that the cavity was small enough not to require any type of anesthetic because he did his drilling and filling without the benefit of Novocain or “laughing gas.” From then on, I dreaded every encounter with the “tooth” doctor.

As time went on, of course, I needed to see the dentist again, but by this time the old guy who gave me my first fright was retired. A succession of dentists followed and even though they were more apt to numb my mouth before working on me, they still scared me. The needle that was used to deaden my senses was huge! The “little” poke I was supposed to feel was a long, excruciating stab.

Eventually, the event of my first tooth extraction arrived. I had suffered with a toothache all weekend and on Sunday I couldn’t endure the pain any longer. I called my dentist, a guy who had attended high school with me. “Come on in,” he said, “We’ll take care of it.” Deep down, I knew what that meant. He was going to pull it! At this point, it didn’t much matter. The pain far exceeded my fear, so off I went, to the bright and cheery office so different from my first experience. Once in the chair, I braced myself for the onslaught and within seconds my mouth was hanging open and the dentist’s able hands and tools had entered. He had already administered the numbing agent and I felt a slight pushing. “There you go, all done.” Wow! I didn’t even feel it!

After that encounter, I didn’t fear dentists quite as much, but still do not look forward to my appointments. My present DDS is a pleasant sort whom I can joke with and he really tries to make my dental events painless, but I still don’t like to go see him. I hate lying back with my jaws spread wide while he and the assistant explore the gapping orifice. What do you look at? The eyes peering down at you through magnifying lenses aren't very comforting. The light used to illuminate your incisors is hypnotic. Don't look at the tools. They resemble medievel instruments of torture. I used to count fly specks on the ceiling but now they actually have pictures up there! After awhile those same old scenes become boring and my mind wanders back to the business at hand. My imagination takes over and I wonder if I might swallow something I shouldn't. The more I concentrate on not swallowing, the more I need to do so. Oh, and now my nose is itching!

Over the years I have had numerous fillings and filings. Today my sixth crown was installed and within the past year I have also had my first root canal. The worst of it is, every time I leave that office, I end up with a new pain. Maybe my friendly dentist is not as nice as he seems. Maybe he’s sabotaging another area of my mouth while repairing the current problem! I think the next time I go see him I’ll bring him a little gift. I have this nice little plant in my back room. It’s called the “Audrey II!” I hope he likes it!