Dharma at the Dentist
by Meditation Teacher Training current student Johnny Nguyen, adapted from a story he shared in class.
“Please let there be anesthetic! Please let there be analgesic!”, I thought, but of course, the numbing agents were reserved for particularly involved operations and not routine cleanings such as mine.
Truly, I have always hated the dentist, and this frustration only intensified as I grew older.
It was all my own fault as well.
I consumed candies and sodas. I neglected to floss properly. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I abused my teeth and gums, so they bled. Oh, how they bled. It became such a frequent occurrence that I became resigned to the experience. I simply chose a brush and paste that would cause me less discomfort as I went through the motions of dental care. It was not enough. I know that now, but back then, I cared very little. As long as there were no obvious signs of foodstuffs in between my teeth and my breath was acceptably fresh, I did not overly worry myself.
I would have liked to have said that getting braces was a turning point for me, so I will. Only, it was a turn for the worse. The nature of braces means that food is more like to become trapped in the jungle of wires and bands. I should have been more cautious and thorough. Instead, I allowed a rot to take root in my mouth, which I would continually bandage over and over.
In this period, I would change dentists every few years, essentially starting over on whatever treatment plan that the previous had dreamt up. They all knew my situation was dire, and their voices only got louder and louder. Meanwhile, the pain of their poking and prodding was becoming unbearable. I deeply began to loathe the dentists. And then, I began to experience a change.
As I became more and more thorough in my at-home dental care, the more I began to understand the pain I was going through. I began to befriend the sensations of sensitive yet clean teeth. I appreciated that this pain was trying to protect me. The journey, after that, was far from smooth; tears of pain, the specialized mouthwashes, and the calls for surgery reminded me that I was very much still at risk of losing my teeth and worse…
Thus, I began a year-long transformation of aligners, diligence, and intensive care, which brings us back to today’s dentist visit. I had not eaten anything that morning; my appointment was at 1pm. I had also brushed and flossed twice in preparation. As I stepped into the clinic, I could immediately smell the fluoride and other various other cleaning agents that so characterizes the dentist clinic. I signed in and was promptly led to the first available room where an old episode of Friends was playing on the monitor. “You like this show?” the dental assistant asks as she prepares me to get x-rayed. I mean to answer, but she has placed a device in my mouth and angled the x-ray machine at my face. I nod at her. “Don’t move. I go to take pictures,” she says.
This goes on for several more minutes as she adjusts the device in my mouth to get all the angles that she needs. Usually, this process is particularly uncomfortable for my poor gag reflex, but I manage to remain calm by focusing on my breathing and occasionally glancing at the monitor to distract myself. She even has to retake many of the x-rays. I stay stoic. The real test is yet to come. The hygienist comes in next and nods at me in familiarity. I lean back into the headrest. She prepares her tools and raises the chair. The blinding chair light shines in my face. I close my eyes, open wide, and focus my awareness on my breath as best I can as the terrifying high-pitch singing of her instruments begins. A sharp-silver hook in one hand and an angled mirror in the other, the hygienist begins working on the plaque in between my teeth. I hear the ear-piercing screech of the hook vibrate through my teeth all the way to my ear canal.
To no surprise, the pain is excruciating. Awareness of the breath alone is not sufficient to hold on to sanity anymore. I begin to remember what this cleaning was ultimately for: a brighter smile and future.
I start thanking everyone and everything. I distinctly remember mentally thanking the hygienist for cleaning so thoroughly. I thanked her for existing and doing her job so professionally. I thanked myself for being so patient and strong. I thanked anything and everything that I could think of while continuing to focus my awareness on my breath and body. I began to drift into a state of happiness amidst the pain for the rest of the operation. When it came to rinse out my mouth, I was pleasantly surprised to see little to no blood leave my mouth. The dentist came in after several minutes, and for the first time in my life, there was no prophecy of doom and foreboding.
“There was some plaque, but no new cavities. Everything looks good”, the doctor said very plainly. I sit stunned for a few moments until the assistant returns to clean up.
“You’re all good to go”, she says.
On my way out, the receptionist waves at me and remarks,”See you in 6 months, Johnny.” I felt like I left the clinic a whole new person. Granted, it is up to me to keep up with the proper dental care on my own time, but the energy of visiting the dentist has forever changed for me. I think it is fair to say that I definitely learned a couple things: listen to people who are trying to help you, perceptions of fear and pain are all in your head, and gratitude is one of the most powerful pain-killers.