Conquering the dentist’s chair, one appointment at a time

The fear of dentists is one of those universal phobias that unites people across cultures. It’s not that we don’t like dentists as people, but we need them.

Let’s be honest: the minute you step into the dentist’s office, the smell of disinfectant alone is enough to make you question every life decision that led you to this point.

Suddenly, you start rethinking all those times you skipped flossing and regret that extra piece of chocolate you ate in 1984. As you sit in the waiting room, flipping through outdated magazines about celebrities who are now grandparents, your anxiety builds like you’re waiting for a court ruling on a crime you didn’t know you committed.

The dental chair itself is a work of psychological genius. You’re laid back, defenceless, under bright lights as if you’re on display in some sort of human exhibit.

The dentist, masked and wielding tools that look like they belong in a toolbox rather than a medical kit, starts to poke and prod as if your mouth is the subject of an archaeological dig.

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And the sounds. The high-pitched whine of the drill is enough to make anyone’s hair stand on end. It’s like a tiny, angry wasp in your mouth that you can’t swat away. Then there’s the horrid suction tube followed by the sharp “scrape-scrape” of metal on enamel, reminding you that plaque is, in fact, no joke.

The dentist’s favourite question: “Are you flossing regularly?” This question is purely rhetorical, of course. We lie anyway. “Oh yes, definitely,” you mumble, though your dentist probably knows that you’ve only flossed three times this year –and one of those was the night before your appointment.

The guilt-trip look from the dentist is always the same: a mixture of disappointment and mild judgment, like a teacher who knows you didn’t do your homework but is too tired to call you out on it.

After all the drilling, scraping, rinsing and flossing lessons, you walk out with a clean bill of dental health and a goody bag filled with floss you’ll ignore and a toothbrush that’ll end up in your guest bathroom. But there’s also a strange sense of triumph. You survived.

The fear of dentists may never go away, but at least you have six more months of freedom before your next appointment – a time to relax, enjoy life, and pretend that you’ll start flossing tomorrow.

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