Dental Professionals

Dear Dr. Z and Dental Assistant C.,

I am slightly at-odds with how to start this letter, as I am torn between feeling exceedingly grateful for the work that you perform and being mildly concerned over how you perform it. It may seem petty, but I generally appreciate walking away from a health care professional feeling secure instead of like I have been forced to down a pill comprised of Nerves, Fear, Condescension, and An Urge To Punch You In The Face.

The last I checked, the following are frowned-upon in dental care, whether in terms of practice or patient-relations:
1. Telling your patient something is going to hurt very, very badly.
2. Admonishing your patient for showing nerves and/or flat-out refusing said procedure.
3. Ignoring your patient's history with Novocaine.
4. Comparing dental work to a PAP-smear.
5. Referring your patient to a dental student, after telling the patient that the procedure is going to hurt very, very badly.

Because I am not one to point out flaws and jab at them with tiny, little periodontal instruments and make small noises of glee while the patient, er, reader twitches in pain - whoops, see, there's that 'Punch You In The Face' feeling I was mentioning earlier.
*Ahem*

Here are a few suggestions to help make our relationship a more pleasing, beneficial one, instead of one that is dreaded nearly as much as that PAP that you so strangely pointed out.

1. Lie to your patient, especially when it regards something that will be hurting them very, very badly.
(This will be of many, many benefits to you... first and foremost, it will bring you more money. The more comfortable I feel about a procedure you are about to perform, the more likely I am to allow it, and less likely I am to ignore the bill that you send me after the measly insurance coverage has kicked-in. Second, it will decrease my anxiety, which should have a positive effect on my already rampaging heart rate.) Which brings me to:

2. Lie to your patient, especially when you think they are being extraordinarily wimpy, child-like, or otherwise stupid.
(Sure, I may cry, moan, and blabber on and on about some dental procedure that scarred me for life, but if you can swallow that down (and maybe take it out on the next patient on your list) and tell me that being afraid to even open my mouth for you to look inside is completely normal, you'll have one happy Me on your hands. Oh, and 'happy Me' is, again, more likely to pay my bill. Just sayin'.)

3. Lying to your patient won't work here, so just freaking listen to them when they have something that seriously concerns them.
(I have a messed-up metabolism. My thyroid is under-active, practically to the point of being extinct. Have you ever seen "Office Space"? I'll assume that you have, as all of your side-bar conversations about your iPhone and Twitter account lead me to believe you consider yourself to be a trendy, culturally up-to-date person. (So what if it comes off a little douche-y? Not the point right now. You're safe.) Consider my thyroid to be like Milton Waddams in "Office Space"; the mumbling guy that no one really pays attention to... laid off years ago and never received the notice... who finally burns the place down after being messed with one too many times. The ol' thyroid likes to laze along, until something like, oh, Novocaine enters my system, and then it burns through it like a madman seeking revenge for his Swingline being stolen one too many times. The point to this rambling? What takes most people one or two shots of Novocaine to get through takes me SEVEN.)

4. Don't ever, ever again, tell me that a human mouth is as sensitive - if not more so - than a female's vagina, and then ask me to imagine having a Novocaine injection in Little Krystal.
(NOT. SOMETHING. I. WANT. IN. MY. HEAD.)

5. Lie to your patient, and tell them that the dental student is really a super-secret Dental Master with amazing pain-blocking powers from the planet 'Perfection'.
(That way, I won't be inclined to bring a cattle prod with me to the appointment with said dental student, with the point being to shock the hell out of them each time I feel they've screwed up.)

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the amazing Dental Professional that I know you have inside of you.

In all seriousness, I am grateful to have dental coverage. I understand that so many people in this world aren't nearly as fortunate as I am in this instance, and that is not something that I take for granted. I plan on taking better care of my teeth, and providing a healthy example for my son as he grows and learns what it means to be responsible for his own health.

Now, that being said, if you touch my tooth with the damn nitrous solution one more time, I'm shoving it in your eye.

Remember to floss,

Krystal