Dentists Have Too Much Power

Who else has such unrestricted power over your mouth?

Like many people who write, I feel compelled to explore recent experiences through my work. Think of me like Carrie Bradshaw, only with significantly fewer cigarettes, less body tea, and no Mr Big harassing me. In that vein, I have been having tooth pain and have to go to the dentist to resolve this crisis of the mouth. Ah, the drama of being responsible for my personal crop of enamel is everlasting. In booking my upcoming appointment, my distrust of these medical professionals came flooding back to me. There is something about the dentist that just does not sit right with my soul — and I know that I am not alone in this feeling. Let’s all say ‘ahhh’ and unpack it together.

The figure of the evil dentist is widely accepted. Whether it be Demon Dentist by David Walliams or the creepy Bryan Cranston dentist from Seinfeld (seems to be the malicious writing about the malicious, huh), we all hold an apprehension about opening wide, for lack of a better term. Armed with spooky tools of an oh-so miniature size, they offer up plenty of intimidating energy, only worsened by the vulnerability of lying flat on your back as they hover above you. You could back up a little bit, you ponder as you attempt to avoid eye contact and pray that your tongue is not being weird while they’re digging around in there. Only why should the tongue be still? It defies nature to be relaxed when someone starts poking and scraping your teeth. Yet they treat you like the weirdo for having an involuntary sense of curiosity about this visitor. 

There truly are so many sexual jokes to be made here, and if you read every line and think, ‘If I had a penny for every time,’ believe me, I too am thinking of all the riches I would have. Yet this odd parallelism also contributes to the discomfort of being at the dentist. What is personal and intimate becomes invasive under the guise of medical necessity. I’m not saying we need to revise the whole practice to be infinitely less touchy; I’m simply offering that we recognise the oddness of this situation. The dentists surely do not acknowledge it, entering the room with a strange entitlement about getting into the nitty-gritty of your facial orifice. You’re just another mouth to them! Only this is my mouth, and I do not want you acting like you are a regular at this establishment (my gob) simply because I booked the appointment. 

Unlike other places on the body, injuries to the teeth are not always visible, and there is a shame in having to concede that only the dentist has the means and skills to see them. If you sprain your wrist — boom, we all see it swell up. If you have root canal damage, the general public has no way of knowing anything about it. Thus, the smugness of these figures becomes all the more apparent as they bask in their expertise. The broken and defeated must bow at the altar of the tooth expert simply because they know nothing about their own enamel. There are also too many ways to ruin teeth: not brushing enough, brushing too much, brushing too hard, or not flossing. It truly raises the question of how we lived before all this dentistry. Where is the healthy middle of taking care of teeth? Is it a myth perpetuated by ‘Big Tooth’ to encourage the dental industry? 

After my dentist appointment, I am sure I will leave feeling better about my teeth, teeth in general, as well as dentists as a whole. Yet, I maintain my conviction that something about the system and routine we have set up here just isn’t right. We need to reject the blasé attitude of dentists and encourage a respectful interaction when entering the mouth to inspect the teeth. Yes, they know things that are entirely foreign to me, but these are my canines, molars, and incisors. Their loyalty is to me. When it comes to boundaries at the dentist, trust me, I am fighting tooth, and if I feel so inclined, even nail.

Illustration from Wikimedia Commons