Notes

The Friendentist Line

Sometimes the friend zone is a good thing. It is a safe place to be when you are friends with a lot of dentists and you have not had the greatest history with them as a collective. However crossing the friendentist line is a demonstration of one's maturity. Let me explain.

I do not have a hostile relationships with my ex-dentists, actually I have been quite fortunate. They have all been professional, friendly, and more importantly strangers (more on this later). The issue was that everytime they poked my teeth with that pointy thing or looked at my x-rays, there was always some sort of work that needed to be done.

From a young age till very middle age, this created the vicious cycle of not wanting to go to the dentist, to not getting my teeth properly cleaned or monitored so that when I did eventually go to the dentist (gapping years at a time), there was of course a problem because I delayed going to the dentist. Rinse, repeat.

I know my dentists tried to minimize the pain as much as possible with whatever local anesthetic was available, but it still was traumatic for me, not just the pain (whether real or imagined), but also being under that bright light, hearing those screeching drilling sounds, and watching faces hovering closely over me like a dissected frog.

But the one solace of all of this, when I eventually did choose a dentist, was that it was a stranger. When they looked into my mouth and saw the countless scars of candy and ice cream bingeing, all those brushless nights, and the blood allergy to flossing (flossing = bloody gums, don't floss, rinse repeat, see vicious cycle above), their judgement would not follow me out the door into my non-dental patient life. It is sort of the same thing where you find yourself telling a stranger some of your deepest fears, things you would not tell your closest friends.

So when my friend Cat asked me if I would like to come in for a cleaning, I had the same apprehension of when I see a deal for a free brake and tire inspection. It had already been almost 2 years since my last visit. In that time I had become a flossaholic, addicted to various flouride rinses, and motorize brushing with the hope of maintaining the illusion that my dental routine was good enough to not see a dentist. But I knew the truth.

I was overdue for an exam, and while I heard my friend talk about her work in a dental graduate program, I never thought of crossing that friendentist line. If she looked into my mouth she wouldn't see my struggle, just plaque, gingervitis, decay, etc. similar to a friend coming into your messy room and saying "How can you live in squalor?". And after all this, would we still be friends? or would her new status as "my dentist" be watching me eat that apple pie ala mode and wonder "i bet he'll pass out on his couch watching tv and forget to brush"

But I decided to take the leap, and said "yes". And it was after my dental exam, that I felt that, I was indeed a mature person.

Maturity is one of those elusive qualities. What constitutes maturity? Is it being responsible? To forgive and forget? Embracing diversity? Do you know it when you see it?

All I can tell you is that when you are in that dental chair, and your friendentist has their rubber gloved fingers in your mouth and examining all your fillings, teeth stains, and dental imperfections. Things you can't hide with deoderant, baggy clothes, or leasing a car. When you bear your dental soul to a friend, you are surrendering yourself. To be able to shift from the patient role to the friend role and back again ...and back again (I had to make a few visits), is maybe not maturity itself, but has to be one aspect of it.

Good thing I am not friends with a lot of proctologists.