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xAllan Clews

xDiary of a househusband

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Dentist is the word I dread

Perhaps I'm slightly depraved, perhaps I may have led a very sheltered life, but very few words can evoke such conflicting emotions in me as ... dentist.

On the one hand, they have magically enabled me to keep most of my teeth, while on the other, they have made me realise just how fortunate I am that my youthful dream of becoming a spy never came to fruition: this is because I would've quickly snapped under torture.

If the police ever brought me in for questioning, all they'd have to do is to turn on one of the those tiny drills, and the soft whizzing noise would soon have me blubbering away.

Now it's not that I'm ungrateful. It's not that I have anything against dentists.

It's just that if Joseph Mengele, the Nazi doctor, had also been a dentist, I think his evil actions would have been a little easier to understand.

The way I see it is that you either become a dentist for the money, or because you are secretly a sadist and want to work in a profession that routinely allows you to inflict all sorts of pain on people and then be graciously thanked for doing so.

I find it hard to imagine that it may be a calling: "I have such a profound inner compulsion to dedicate my life to staring down into people's mouths while they nervously lie on their backs with a terrified glean in their eyes". Unless the calling was to be a dominatrix.

And what's with those chairs. One minute you are sitting down, then they have their attractive assistant distract you while they quickly tip you on to your back: the most vulnerable position known to man.

Then they add to this feeling of total helplessness by aiming a blinding light at your eyes.

I just wonder how often they have to replace the arms on those contraptions. I know I ferociously cling to them.

Then there's toffee. Ambrosia to the dentists.

Think of all the exotic holidays and fancy cars this humble sweet must have indirectly paid for in terms of lost crowns, loose fillings and chipped teeth. If it didn't exist, some dentist would have to invent it.

I have to admit I don't know what goes on inside the hallowed halls of a dental school, though I am firmly convinced they must devote a large part of their time to teaching the fine art of understatement: "Now class, I want you to repeat after me ... This is only going to hurt a little."

I recently had to have emergency dental work after I bit into a piece of toffee and split one of my molars. At one point the dentist said in such an understated way: "You do realise that this isn't an ordinary tooth-extraction?" Really? As if I was somehow oblivious to the fact that he had to pick and dig and drill and scrape away at my tooth as it valiantly clung to my gums.

Oh well, it's nice to know that my stubborn, resistant nature goes right to the core of my ... teeth (well, they're sort of like bones aren't they).

Tara (then eight) was extremely upset with me when it happened.

She wasn't upset because my gum swelled up to the size of a marble and got infected.

She wasn't upset that it happened on a Friday night and I had to wait two agonising days until I could see my dentist.

She wasn't even upset that I had to dump her with our elderly neighbours while I rushed to the dentist (she actually liked that part because they tend to spoil her).

No, she was upset that I didn't bring the shattered fragments of my tooth back home and put them under my pillow in order to make a little money from the tooth fairy.

If you have any comments you would like to make, contact features@ycp.co.uk

14/04/00

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.