It Was Supposed to Be a Little Scary

I took the family to our dentist for our semi-annual check-up and cleaning. I thought we would be in and out with gleaming smiles and an appointment card for June. We have gone to the same dentist for years. My kids love him and trust him. None of us is apprehensive about a visit to Dr. Gary.

My first clue that all was not going as planned was when I passed my middle son (age13) in the hall and he didn't smile... he just grunted. I continued to the exam room and assumed it was just a particularly nasty attack with the tartar hook until Gary sat down and said, "He has 3 cavities." According to my youngest, who was having his cleaning in the next cubicle, I gasped in a loud, shocked, horrified manner. I was stunned. We are generally very conscientious about oral hygiene so this was really a surprise.

Gary went on to explain that I would need to make two appointments for the filling of these cavities. Since this was my son's first experience with this sort of procedure, Gary wanted it to be minimally traumatic. He promised to give the boy some laughing gas and Novocain and to be very gentle. Considering my son's intense fear of needles and pain, I was dreading all of this.

It took about a week to get the first appointment. It felt like an eternity. I met the initial complaints and expressions of fear with great compassion and calming words. By the time the appointment rolled around I was getting tired of him complaining and trying to avoid admitting that this happened because of his lax brushing habits. 'Oh, honey, don't worry, it will be fine' nearly turned into 'Suck it up and brush your teeth better so we don't have to go through this again.’

The silent ride to the office was heartbreaking. I wished I could relieve his anxiety, but nothing I said calmed him. With great trepidation, I watched Dr. Gary walk my son down the hall with his arm around his shoulders. Thirty long minutes later my son emerged with a loopy grin plastered on his face. Dr. Gary told us that he had done fine and two of the three cavities had been filled. So that this didn’t become a harrowing ordeal, we were to schedule another appointment so the job could be finished.

In the van on the way home, I told him that it would all be over in a few weeks and then he could move on. I gave a short, yet eloquent, speech on the importance of oral hygiene and the avoidance of the dentist’s drill. As I paused, ready to commend him on his bravery, he interrupted. “Mom, I liiiiike that gas stuff,” he giggled.

So the following weeks were not worrisome. Today he had his last cavity filled and again enjoyed a lovely high courtesy of Dr. Gary. Herein lies the rub. He really did like the gas. A lot. In fact I overheard him telling his brothers that the whole “cavity thing” wasn’t a big deal at all.

As empathetic as Dr. Gary is, I wished he had managed to be just slightly more menacing; just a little scare to be filed away in association with tooth decay in my son’s memory. Instead, the boy has no fear of further dental work.

In other words, the whole experience was so much fun he may never brush his teeth again. So, Gary thanks for your kindness. You meant well. But maybe next time, could you throw in an evil laugh or something?






L