Your Dentist is a Sadist
| Published 12/03/04

Graphic by: Tim Tuley

I'm willing to admit that I've seen the same dentist since I was in diapers up until last summer. However, when you realize that sitting next to you in matching dentist chairs is a five-year-old to your left and a ten-year-old to your right, you start to feel a little silly -- not to mention tall.  You decide that it's time for a change. It's time for you to sit in the waiting room with all of the boring magazines instead of the one with the toys and the Pac-Man machine. They don't prepare you for the real world of dentistry in that colorful, innocent playground of stuffed animals and bubble gum fluoride. The real world of dental hygiene is nothing short of brutal.

I'm convinced that all dentists (the ones specializing in adults, mind you) are trained extensively in the art of pain: how to inflict it, how to prolong it, etc. This process is very detailed. You can't be a good dentist unless you can stab someone in the gums and smile at the same time. These people are smooth and deadly. Not only are they trained in the various jabbing techniques, but they are well skilled in the art of sadistic mind games. Their favorite is the, "I'm just going to hover over your eye with this pointy object as I pretend to be inspecting your mouth with it." Will they drop it point first into your eye? You'll never know. It's all part of their evil plan.

The worst thing is that they always seem to be blaming you for the shape that your mouth is in. After much analysis, I'd have to say that the guilt trip is the biggest weapon in their arsenal. First, the person who cleans your teeth gives your mouth the once over, jabbing all the while, and stares down at you in disgust because, of course, you've disappointed her. To get you back for this obvious slight, she'll poke, jab and prod your poor gums until they're practically screaming for mercy. After this prolonged torture, she'll say something clever like:

"You know, your gums are bleeding."

At this point I always want to reply back with something bitingly witty like, "That's funny, because they were fine before I came in." But by now they have successfully established the fear of the hovering, alarming pointy objects and I'm too afraid to actually voice this opinion. See how this works?

After you don't think you can take much more of the pain and the emotional anguish, the assistant lays off and calls the dentist in to do the final examination. You're somewhat relieved because the dentist is always much more pleasant that the assistant. He'll floss you, poke you a little bit with the pointy objects, and then give you the same guilt trip that the assistant did about the shape that your mouth is in. But at this point you are so relieved to be out of the clutches of the horrible assistant that you've let your guard down and intake all of this information in the hopes that the more you nod in agreement the sooner it'll all be over. It is then that he knows that he's won; he has your money and your self-respect and there's nothing that you can do about it. You shuffle out of his office, thanking him profusely because you're so relieved to be out of there.

"See you next time," he says with a sadistic gleam in his eye.

What can you do about this? Well...nothing. The dentist will always win because you can't go around with rotten teeth in a society such as ours, now can you? All you can do is sit back, accept your fate, and, in the mean time, satisfy yourself in the knowledge that every dentist has a dentist.