Things That Make Me Anxious: The Dentist

I hate going to the dentist. The pain element plays a big part in that hatred, but the unknown cost is a smaller, somehow more worrying concern. The final part is that I have a really bad gag reflex. When my dentist says we need to do an X-ray and suggests putting a piece of cardboard inside one cheek and asking me to bite it for ten seconds, it causes an awful feeling of wanting to get it out. Anything that goes into my mouth that I cannot bite to make smaller would make me gag and puke. The trick for me is to count to however long the dentist has said it will take before taking the thing out. The cost? Well, it has never been that bad. I am an NHS patient – thank God for that – or a dentist visit can run into thousands of pounds. And do I need to explain the pain and the fact that I do not like being in it? Who does?

So what could make my visit to the dentist anxious?

I already had a busy day planned. My appointment at the dentist coincided with calls planned with several clients who, for some reason, wanted to get hold of me. All from texts saying they were going to call me later. Later was not really useful in terms of time management. You see, I am a self-employed business owner of a digital marketing business, trying desperately to add some integrity to an already suspicious industry. So far, so good, with a list of happy clients who were seeing moderate growth rather than false promises.

This line of work meant that my mobile phone was, and is, so important for getting hold of me when I am out. I never really envisioned that would be the case, but I like to be seen as the go-to person by my clients and find it all rather amusing and, in a way, satisfying. I do enjoy it, which helps, but it can be very stressful.

After one memorable instance in my past, when I worked in an overly and unnecessarily stressful environment for a tech company on an island in the River Thames called Eel Pie Island, nature also made it stressful. The tides on the River Thames just so happened to come in at the end of the working day, at 5.30pm, as if nature was trying to make us all work late while the water receded after 6pm. The office was on an island accessible only by a footbridge. There were times when black bin bags were used like the ones in a potato sack race, as my fellow workers would hop across the shallow Thames water to get to the bank and race for their trains. They forgot that all black bags had small holes in them, and their jeans or trousers below the ankle, right down to their shoes, would be covered in water. Certainly not a pleasant walk to the train station.

I had a bike, so I could cycle through the water – until one fateful experience when my bike’s front wheel hit a stone, or something unseen in the blackish water, and I went sideways and became fully submerged. I looked like I had just climbed out of a swimming pool wearing all my clothes. I was not happy, and I was freezing. Someone saw me get back on my bike and said, “You’ll be dry by the time you get home if you cycle quickly enough.” “Ha ha,” I said sarcastically. “Cheeky bastard!” I soon slipped on the pedal because it was wet and, as if a higher power were punishing me, the pedal arm flipped up, smacking the pedal into my shin. It hurt! So anxiety would often manifest when leaving work.

The dentist was planned for today. Well, when I say dentist, it would be more accurate to say that an appointment had been made at the dentist and I was not seeing the actual dentist. Specifically, it was a hygienist. I had 30 minutes with a hygienist.

I am probably part of the last generation old enough to remember when a dentist appointment was indeed with a dentist, and he or she would give you a check-up and give your teeth a quick clean and polish. Nothing extravagant, just the basic drill thing, that pulling tool, the concentrated toothpaste and the tiny polishing brush. That was it, and it was covered in the check-up cost. The time would be 30 minutes with the dentist, including the check-up and the teeth clean.

These days, they rip off the customer on cost and time. I have also noticed that they have replaced the pink rinsing water with plain water. For some weird reason, I quite liked the pink rinsing liquid. I looked forward to it, but now even that has been replaced!

I always clean my teeth before going, but I suppose that is rather short-term thinking, as they have the expertise to see that my quick-clean fix does not cover the fact that I am not cleaning my teeth properly and neither am I flossing as much as I should be.

I also notice the loaded questions, which I fall for every time before reverting to lying. I am okay with regular brushing, and I seem to get a raised eyebrow from the dentist when I say I have an electric toothbrush. But the one thing I lie about most is flossing. I make up some excuse that the special floss for my mouth was out of stock and I forgot to reorder it. I will even go so far as to blame the dentist, which is never a good thing. That’s right, Paul. Annoy him or her off before they check your mouth.

“Can you please lie back, Mr Fowler? I’ll take your phone and glasses. Is there anything else you want?”

Yeah, my phone back now, I thought!

I am self-employed and my phone is like my lifeline to work. Sounds dramatic, right? It had been going off all morning. On a previous dental visit, my mum, who is in her eighties, fell over and a call came through while I was in the dentist’s reception. Obviously, that was a good reason to leave, but this time, what if that happened again? My phone was not only out of reach, but I was lying back with my mouth open and it felt like the entire tool set from Black & Decker was being used to ‘clean’ my teeth.

Having your teeth cleaned can be quite painful and loud, as she used a combination of a drill noise and a suction thing. I strained my ears to listen for my phone. It just had to go off soon and help me escape this torture. Please, please, someone, anyone, please call me. I would even take a spam call selling me solar panels.

“Oops, sorry.”

“Uuhttt,” I replied – my version of “What?” with my mouth open. What was she saying sorry for, and why was she rubbing a tissue on my nose? Why did it have blood on it? Somehow, she had nicked my nose with the drill. Now let me point something out – I do have a big nose. It is not pointy, like a carrot on a snowman, but it is a little blunt and broad. It is still nowhere near my open mouth. So how she missed my mouth and drilled into my nose is beyond me.

Finally, after the odd glance at my phone and with time dragging, she was finished. I could get up and wash my mouth out.

Yes, I would make sure I cleaned my gums. Yes, I would floss more. Yes, I would use mouthwash for the next few days. And yes, stop asking time-delaying questions – in my head, my phone was calling for me. I politely said thanks, grabbed my phone and hurried out of the surgery. I was eager to check my phone. It lit up as I got past the lock screen.

No calls and No Texts.