‘There was a tense look about him when I entered the waiting room. He was very brave to have come, I thought, and I told him so. When you’re that afraid, it’s a big step even to make an appointment, let alone actually turn up. As dentists we’re accustomed to anxious patients, and I did my best to make him feel at ease.
I’d graduated not long before and had decided to work abroad for a few years. I did what I’d been taught at university: first you explain what you’re going to do, then show them the equipment, then make a gentle start. He hadn’t even come for anything complicated, just a check-up, but it was still like pulling teeth. No matter what I put in his mouth, he resisted, especially when I worked on his lower jaw. I didn’t want to push him, so I always just stopped before things got out of hand and asked him to come back another time. But he kept putting up such a fight, there was no way I could treat him properly. Eventually he developed a cavity, and a section of his molar broke away. Without proper treatment, I thought, he might start losing teeth. I could tell it wasn’t the pain that he was scared of, so I knew it must have been something else.
At his next appointment, he came in with a girlfriend of his. He was visibly trembling. I asked if there was anything he wanted to tell me, and he started a story that eventually made him so emotional that his girlfriend had to take over. It turned out that he had been sexually abused for a long time, which explained why lying powerless in the dentist’s chair elicited such a strong physical response. As soon as my mirror touched his tongue or I put a cotton swab in his mouth, his reflexes took over and I had to stop. But he was determined and refused to give in to the stranglehold of his past.
I really felt for him – I could see his pain and distress and wanted to do my best to help him through it. We progressed slowly, step by step. I gave him full control, and if ever things got too much, he would raise his hand and I stopped. It can be quite intimidating, lying in a chair like that with your mouth wide open and a dentist hovering over you. Once he felt confident that I understood his situation, he relaxed a little and could let himself go. He kept his teeth in the end.
I last saw that patient fifteen years ago yet whenever I have a nervous patient, I think back to him. I had only just begun as a dentist and at the time was mainly preoccupied with the nuts and bolts of my job, with solving the oral and dental problems. He made me aware that attention, time and understanding are just as vital to the quality of treatment as the procedures themselves. Say what you’ll do and then do what you say: that’s the way to win trust. They’d taught us this during my studies, but it only dawned on me fully in practice, when I finally succeeded in giving that one patient a greater feeling of security.
I’ll never forget his reaction once the procedure was over: he threw his arms around me, so happy that everything had finally worked out. He came back a few more times for check-ups; after that, my time abroad was up, and I returned to the Netherlands. I never could take away the pain of his memories, but it’s still a comforting thought to know that together we managed to loosen somewhat the iron grip of his past.’