I entered the dentist's room with some trepidation. I know, you are thinking, oh no, one more trying-to-be-funny article about people's dread of facing (literally!) their dentists and their attempts to prevent an appointment with the villains, so to speak, at the cost of enduring many a toothache. No, I am not among these faint-hearted souls whose teeth rattle at the thought of being strapped into the dentist's chair and whose hearts leap into their mouths as they imagine they are going to be shot with the dentist's gun-like drill.
No, I fear the insensitivity, callousness and unsympathetic attitude displayed by some "men of medicine," not just dentists. This fear was heightened by a recent experience with doctors at a reputed eye-hospital when I went there to have a painful sty treated. I was examined by no less than three grim doctors of varying seniorities, all of who pushed my head back, shone a powerful torch right into my eye and poked and prodded it, all the while rattling off observations to a junior lurking nearby and admonishing me to not to move. Complete disregard for my feelings, that was what hurt me the most. And let me tell you, the pain and discomfort a sty causes is quite distressing, without having somebody jabbing at your eye.
So, with this kind of an encounter behind me and given that it was my first visit to the dentist in question, you wouldn't blame me for feeling a little trepidation. I had decided that I would let the dentist examine me only on my terms - that he give me his total and undivided attention, listened to what I had to say and "consulted" me before pronouncing what treatment I needed and going ahead with it. He turned out to be a little, restless, bird-like man, who spoke with a flourish and used a lot of gestures. But he had a constant smile and, what I witnessed after a long time, a bedside manner.
He seemed amused when I tentatively told him about my last brush (drill?) with his kind and how I did not want to let it happen to me again. By this time, I had sufficiently relaxed due to his patience and obeyed him when he asked me to get into the examination chair. By the way, the reason for the visit was a tooth's sharp edge tearing away at my tongue after a piece of it just broke from the whole.
His check-up was done in a minute with a firm yet gentle touch. He asked for some kind of tool and I immediately sat up asking him what he was about to do. He showed me the tool and told me that he was going to smoothen the jagged-edged tooth and that it won't hurt at all. It was true - I closed my eyes, heard a whirring sound and then it was done. My faith in doctors was restored to some extent.
But the dentist had his say too. As he wrote out a prescription for me, he got a call from a patient. He spoke pleasantly enough but it was clear he was trying to avoid an appointment! After he finished, he told me with a wink, "You told me your candid opinion about certain doctors. Now let me tell you about some patients. This man who called me now always makes it a point to get the last appointment of the day and then arrives with his wife and bunch of kids, with some complaint or the other. Then he proceeds to chat with me about this and that for more than an hour. I can't tell him to leave nor remind him that it's time for me to go home. He has done this many times. I wonder why he does it. Crazy chap." Though it was said as if in jest, it was obvious that the dentist was greatly annoyed with this guy.
I smiled to myself as I left. Each to his grouse.
