I have been having a period of introspection recently. Triggered by a toothache in May. Luckily for me after almost a month of rumbling it came to a head, on a Saturday night. The only option available to me was the N.H.S Dental Access Emergency service. As an almost life long dental phobic this was a situation.

I described my dental phobia to myself as irrational. For 30 years I had 3 wonderful dentists, and an orthodentist who gave me and my teeth wonderful care, and without too much trouble,once I had confidence in them, my phobia was a problem that was in the past. But the first 25 years of dental care were where problems lay, and actually where my phobia was given a place to thrive. My very first dentist thought it was entirely appropriate to be both dentist and anaesthetist at the same time. Dental extractions under gas and with Cocaine as the local anaesthetic were tricksy occasions, and slightly heightened experiences, both roles cannot be done safely or effectively by one person. When he retired I went across the road to a different surgery. Hugely more up to date it was run by flashy young dentists who took on two patients at a time. They adopted the preventative fillings regime of the 1970’s . I suspect they filled tea stains, not so much to prevent anything more than their financial situation After a brief inspection an injection of local anaesthetic was given and the dentist hopped into the next room to do the same to another client. Before returning to do a super fast filling using a very clunky drill. Bish , bash bosh. Doing the maths on these two experiences Either system gave me about 50% attention from the person treating me. One other but not insignificant factor in my first 20 years of having teeth and growing a phobia was a classmate who had left the classroom to attend a dental appointment and never returned because he had had an unfortunate reaction to the anaesthetic gas used for his extraction. These were very different times and realistically the dentists involved were undoutedly doing what was current best or acceptable practice.

I left home and was a grown up professional woman able to choose my own dentist. What could possibly go wrong. Research was done , reccomendations considered and a choice was made.

Enter Dr Lothario, a man who was not only interested in my teeth. My appointments were scheduled next to his break periods. We drank tea together and talked about worldly things. I thought it was odd but not anything like as worrisome as my previous dental interactions. On the last appointment, as it turns out he gave me a note to hand to the receptionist. After reading it she very kindly said.

“May I suggest you leave this practice and go somewhere else”

In contemporary parlance I suspect I may have been being groomed.

Interstingly in that period I required no actual dental treatment.

Then the glory years of Sussex and then Devon. Kind, compassionate dental treatment , phobia all but forgotten.

Then the London years, a fascinating and fabulous professional life. Busy and unpredictable . I kept my lovely dentist in Devon until he moved on to become an academic at a Dental School. Time passed and I was an idiot. I didn’t find a replacement dentist and in the space where dental check ups should be, my old friend the dental phobia returned and grew. It was a secret, and where previously it could have been understood, it became irrational and shameful. The first 25 years of my dental experience stamped out 30 years of excellent treatment. As someone who subscribes to my glass being,nearly always, half full. Why did I let that phobia grow?

Toothache is the devils work but it drove me to face up to my own dental demons. Five months later and with 6 visits to the most delightful, kind and caring dentists and their teams I am done. Until 3 months time, but this time the gap will only be 3 months.

By coincidence I read an article yesterday about the effect of kindness and compassion on the experience of patients undergoing medical care.

How very true.

There is one other thing that conspired to make me brave in the face of inevitable dental work. There is something very powerful about knowing that at any time of the year I am capable of getting into the sea, even on its roughest coldest days and having a swim. A really unlikely but useful superpower. The inner struggle to take the plunge is real.

Sometimes it is the sea, and sometimes other things, but if I can do one the others seem a little less worrisome.