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This won
- 1. This won’t hurta bit.. Russell Grenning Whatever you might think of Adolf Hitler you would have to agree that for most of the Third Reich he got his own way – well, at least until the last couple of years when things went totally pear-shaped. Yet the all-powerful Fuehrer was as fearful of his dentist as anybody else. In October 1940 when he was riding high, he met with the Spanish fascist dictator Franco for what he thought would be a quick and easy meeting, the object being to get Spain into the war on the side of the Axis. After all, Hitler had been significantly helpful to Franco’s successful quest to save Spain from the Spaniards. However, the wily Franco was not seduced that easily and the meeting dragged on for nine hours until midnight when Hitler, in a towering rage, called it quits. He confessed to aides later that he would rather have all of his teeth pulled than meet Franco again. And they never did meet again. Let’s face it – who actually likes going to the dentist. I would hazard a guess that even dentists don’t particularly like going to the dentist. I’ve always maintained that people only become dentists because they weren’t good enough to be medical practitioners or even vets. That plus a barely concealed streak of raw sadism. When I was a kiddie, I had a particularly savage dentist who, as it happens, was a Returned Man and a former POW. I was convinced that his alleged treatments were some sort of proxy for the punishments he had wished to inflict on the Japs on the Kokoda Trail. His early capture frustrated all of that and, returned more or less in one piece to hearth and home, he embarked on his legally sanctioned fetish to inflict pain. Just how a civilised person can say, “Now this won’t hurt a bit” and then shove a terrifying number of metal objects down your screech totally escapes me. It did when I was a kiddie and it still does. Freddy Kruger had nothing on Dr Simpson. One mouth mauler I had along the way had an especially ghoulish sense of humour and a grossly and wholly unjustified sense of his own importance. Hanging on his waiting room wall was Psalm 81.10 which, for the sake of pagan readers, says, “I am the Lord thy God, which bought you out of Egypt: open thy mouth wide and I will fill it.” I once asked him if he expected me and other patients to reply by quoting Psalm 119.131 which, again for the pagans, says, “I opened my mouth and panted: for I longed for thy commandments.” The glint in his eye spoke volumes and a leering and unwholesome smile revealed his perfectly fitted dentures. I mean what a fraud this man was – preaching “dental health” while not having one of his own toothy-pegs left.
- 2. I felt helplessand even threatened by this psychopath. It was only when I discovered by sheer chance that he was a gay chap that I was able to strike back, dubbing him The Tooth Fairy to the vast amusement of his other victims, oops - patients. Funnily enough, that was about the time I took my mouth to another practitioner and did so in the sure and certain knowledge that we were fifteen-all orally speaking. The next chap to probe my molars had the upsetting profession-wide practice of talking away after I was rendered voiceless. He also had a peculiar sense of humour and his “jokes” ran to this sort of inanity: Q - why is the profession of dentistry the perfect ideal for all men? A – Because you get to tell women when they can open and close their mouths. Hilarious, isn’t it? Even funnier – especially when you have heard it at least a million times – was his opening gambit after initial inspection, “Well, you need three fillings and you know the drill about that.” At least having my mouth stretched open gave me the excuse not to dissolve into paroxysms of hysteria. This molar murderer was a bachelor which shouldn’t have surprised anybody because he only found his joy and contentment taking out a tooth, not a real live human being. It was his lonely yet strangely fulfilling vice and ultimately I tired of my ivories being his fantasy playground. I did seriously consider reporting these charlatans to whatever the disciplinary outfit is for dentists but I understand that it is a toothless tiger. I’ve done a bit of research on this subject and discovered that there are three different manifestations of odontophobia or, if you prefer, dentophobia. There is dental fear (the reaction to a known danger), dental anxiety (the reaction to an unknown danger) and dental phobia which is the complete and utter meltdown. No need to guess into which category I have fallen. I hasten to assure you that I’m not really a coward and have done all sorts of brave, even heroic things. For example, I once voted for the Australian Democrats which wasn’t much help because they went completely down the drain that election and disappeared from the political scene. I’ve half a mind – many would agree with that – to let the Hon Julia know I will be an enthusiastic supporter of hers. That should nail down her political coffin. And another thing – I am sick and tired of dentists preaching the alleged benefits of fluoride when any number of conspiracy theorists will tell you that it is part of the giant international conspiracy involving commies, the Royal Family, Rotary and the Baptists – and some others – to impose a one-world government.
- 3. In any case,why would anybody advocate something which, if true, would ultimately mean that dentistry is seeking its own demise? Even in places which are fluoridated, dentists are busy upgrading from Beamers to Bentleys and taking tax-deductible study trips to the south of France. But one must try and end on a positive note. Frankly, I’m concerned my dentist might hear of my sturdy views and raise the matter when I am tied down in his chair, my mouth torn open by assorted implements that would not have been out of place during the Spanish Inquisition. He is a thoroughly decent chap who has even been awarded prizes which festoon his walls. The best one which caught my eye was a little plaque.