This won’t hurt a bit!

human fist

 

One of my dental colleagues, a very confident fellow and a competent operator, told me this true story many years ago.

One day, he had a nervous male patient, a well-built strong looking man. However, the patient was extremely anxious, as many dental patients often are. The patient needed to have root canal treatment and was convinced that he would experience much pain during the procedure. 

As my colleague prepared his local anaesthetic syringe, he said, trying to be reassuring:

“Don’t worry, sir, after I have given you this injection, the procedure won’t hurt a bit!”

The patient turned to my colleague brandishing his tightly clenched fist, and said:

“You’d better be right because this will certainly hurt you!”

 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I thought it was a bean

Is fear of the needle 

worse than fear of the mask?

Without them, we suffer

business care clean clinic

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Many of my adult patients remembered going to the dentist when they were children and having to be put asleep under a black face-mask. This memory instilled in them a life-long fear of visiting dentists.

The day after the 17th of March 1982, when I qualified as a dentist, I was legally allowed to administer general anaesthetics for dental procedures without an anaesthetist being present. General anaesthesia is hazardous enough but without the assistance of an anaesthetist, the risks of problems multiply. I could have accidentally killed a patient on my first day in practice. For the record, I have never ever administered general anaesthetics with or without an anaesthetist.

For a brief while, a few months in the 1990s, I worked in a practice that specialised in treating dental patients while they were under general anaesthesia. The anaesthetics were administered by a visiting hospital anaesthetist, who was assisted by a fully trained anaesthetics technician. The patients, when unconscious, were intubated to maintain their breathing and all the right things were done to ensure their safety. When the patients were ‘under’, I worked on their teeth, as quickly as I could because the anaesthetist wanted to keep the patients ‘under’ for as short a time as possible.

Children were given gaseous anaesthesia through a face mask. Once, I sniffed the gas briefly. It was terrible stuff. It felt as if a knife were shooting up my nose. Most children were, quite naturally, terrified at the prospect of anything that was happening in our clinic. Getting them to accept the black mask with its attached rubber tube was often difficult. The anaesthetist was a friendly man from the Middle East. He would say to the children things like:

“This smells of peppermint.”

The child might reply:

“I don’t like peppermint.”

The doctor would then say:

“I’ve got strawberry flavour.”

“I don’t like strawberry.”

“How about some lovely banana?”

And so, it went on.

One mother impressed me. She said to her child that if he allowed the mask to be put on by the count of three, he could have a treat at McDonalds later. She counted “one”, and the child refused. And, then “two”, but the child still resisted. Then, I wondered how different it would be when she got to “three.”

I was impressed when she said:

“Two and a quarter,” and then “Two and a third”, and so on without ever reaching “three”. Eventually, her child cooperated.

 

I must to admit that although we got a lot of work done on fully anaesthetised patients, I did not enjoy working under these conditions. However, I enjoyed my weekly encounters with the friendly anaesthetist, ‘Dr A’. He was extremely fond of fiery chillies, which he consumed during our lunch breaks. He was always seeking hotter chillies. This was probably because his taste-buds had become partially damaged by his excessive consumption of these almost corrosive chillies.

One lunchtime, Dr A and I were sitting in the staff room with a male anaesthetic technician from an agency. Wickedly, Dr A passed him a long, thin fresh green chilli, saying:

“Try this.”

The young man put the whole green chilli in his mouth and started chewing it. Soon, his face went bright red, and he rushed to the sink to fill a glass of water. When he recovered, he turned to Dr A, and said:

“I thought it was a bean.”

PS: Nowadays, general anaesthetics for dentistry cannot be administered anywhere in the UK except in a fully-equipped hospital.

Ouch! Pull it out!

dent 1

When I qualified as a dentist back in 1982, there was no vocational training period during which the newly qualified dental surgeon worked under the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Like others who graduated at that time, I was plunged into the ‘deep end’. I was fortunate that the owner of the first practice where I worked was understanding and helpful. He provided me with much valuable advice.

However, nothing can prepare you for the unexpected.

One day, a new patient sat in my dental chair. He spoke English with an eastern European accent. He may have been Ukranian. He said to me: “It is my philosophy that when I am having pain from a tooth, I remove it from my mouth.” Having just spent five and a half years training to save troublesome teeth, I asked him whether he was certain that he did not want an attempt to be made to save the tooth. He was adamant: he wanted the tooth out.

When he pointed at one of his upper incisors, a tooth that was visible when he spoke, I asked him again whether he would not prefer to save such a prominently visible tooth. Once again, he explained his philosophy.

With some reluctance, I administered the local anaesthetic to render the proposed extraction painless. While his jaw was going numb, I asked him once again whether he was sure that he wanted to lose the tooth. He did not change his mind.

It is usual to check for numbness the area around a tooth that is to be removed. This is done by prodding the area with a sharp-pointed probe. As I began to do this, the patient pushed my hand away sharply. Before I could ask him why he did this, he grabbed the offending tooth with his thumb and forefinger, twisted sharply, and cleanly extracted the whole incisor with its root intact. My assistant and I stared at the man, totally surprised.

He said: “All I needed was the injection. The rest I can do myself”. Needless to say, I did not offer him a discount.

 

dent 2

 

Pictures from “Der Zahnarzt in der Karikatur” by E Heinrich, publ. 1963