Jerry Davich
Which do you fear most: public speaking or a dental appointment? It's a tough choice to swallow, isn't it?
I’ve done both more times than I can count and I still get anxiety beforehand. The worst part is the waiting that leads up to it. Our mind plays tricks with us with the conspiracy of time.
I would do much better if I was yanked off the street and dragged onto a stage in front of 200 people to give a one-hour presentation on, say, doorknobs. Or kidnapped by a gang of dental hygienists, thrown into a dental chair and tied down by dental floss. There would be no pre-visit anxiety.
But when you tell me that my next appointment is on a certain date, guess which date becomes one of my least favorite dates of the year. I now dread that date. It’s like circling a date on the calendar and writing in big bold letters “Uh-oh.”
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It’s different with public speaking, which I usually agree to because the date is so far into the future I don’t believe it will ever arrive. Last month, I was asked, “Are you available to speak on March 4?”
Sure, I replied. March 4 doesn’t yet exist, I thought. It’s like asking if I would like to schedule a dental appointment on Mars. Sure, I would casually reply. It. Doesn’t. Exist. But then — what do you know? — March 4 will arrive. And then I will arrive, clutching my baggage of anxiety.
I’m not alone. Decades of studies have been done on “dental fear.” It can be more painful than the actual dental treatment.
I visited my dentist last week. As the dental hygienist cleaned my teeth, I began writing this column in my head. Any distractions are welcomed.
Since my youth, I’ve had countless dental procedures done at different offices. I know the process like the back of my mouth. Settle into the chair, lean back, open my mouth, clench my hands together and let my mind wander.
The distraction of conversation is a dental tool you won’t find on the hygienist’s tray, but it’s crucial for most fearful patients.
“How about today’s weather?”
“What are you doing later today?”
“Do you have any holiday plans?”
Kudos to them for trying to ease patients' worries.
I’d rather have a root canal than engage in polite chit-chat, but the conversations I prefer are difficult at 30-second intervals with a suction tube in my mouth.
Wordplay is one of my favorite things in the world. But I need my mouth to do it. Without verbal words, my facial expressions are as demonstrative as a bowl of oatmeal.
At my recent dental appointment, the hygienist talked about an interesting subject that I have a personal history with -- the role of stepparent in a blended family. I could give a public presentation on this topic, contrasting its challenges and rewards. I lived it. I know it. I've learned so much from it.
But I wasn’t able to elaborate my insights as much as I would have liked. I felt I spoke too much as it was, causing the hygienist to take a break from my cleaning. My inner dialogue screamed at me, “Shut up!”
I should know better. I have an inside source about this sensitive subject. My wife is a dental hygienist. I’ve heard stories about patients who never shut up. Or who never talk. Or never brush their teeth. Or they think flossing is a dance move. Lying about brushing our teeth is our national pastime.
Some patients don’t think twice about devouring a package of Oreo cookies on their way to visit a dentist. Who are these barbarians? Other patients blame hygienists for taking too much time to clean their teeth though they haven’t brushed their teeth since the Trump administration. I would have no patience for most patients.
I’ve had multiple crowns, root canals, fillings and numbing shots. I’ve drooled on myself and sounded like a drunken toddler. I once had a very painful condition called dry socket — for days — but I didn’t tell my dentist. I didn’t want to come across as a whiny or wussy patient.
“Why didn’t you call my office?” my former dentist asked angrily.
I didn’t have the nerve to tell him the truth. I was scared the treatment might hurt. This is the power of irrational fear. It hurts more than what we actually fear.
