(I arrive for a dentist appointment to have some X-rays of my jaw. I am sitting in the waiting room for around 10 minutes when I am called through.)

Dentist: “Okay, sit yourself back down and we’ll take a look.”

(She starts feeling around my gum line. I’m not sure why, but just assume it has something to do with the X-ray.)

Dentist: “How does that feel?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Dentist: “Is it numbed up yet?”

Me: “No?”

Dentist: “Hmmm. We can’t give you any more anaesthetic today. We’ll give it another few minutes.”

Me: “Umm, you haven’t given me any anaesthetic.”

Dentist: *turns back to computer* “Are you [Name]?”

Me: “No, I’m [My Name].”

Dentist: “Oh, you’re my next appointment. Looks like [Assistant] called you in by mistake.”

(I was sent back out and the other patient is called in — a young girl, while I’m a 27-year-old man. I was honestly so shaken by how the dentist didn’t realise the difference that I left and forgot the appointment. I didn’t go back for another two years until the pain in my jaw reached unbearable, at which time most of the staff had been replaced (including my old dentist). I had to register again, but I was put with someone more competent. I got my X-rays and found out I have temporomandibular disorder. I was sent to my GP (which admittedly I should have gone to initially) and prescribed antidepressants to try and relax the muscles. I put myself through two years of additional pain because I was mistaken for a child.)

Related:
Childish Behavior, Part 2
Childish Behavior

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(Recently I’ve had some tooth pain on the lower left jaw which prompts going to the dentist. As I have severe anxiety and my medication causes some dry mouth, it’s necessary to inform the dentist about it. Note that I’ve had anxiety since about thirteen and am now in my twenties.)

Dentist #1: *after having done nothing more than look in my mouth* “Do you have any medical conditions?”

Me: “I have anxiety.”

Dentist #1: “Okay, so, when you have anxiety and stress you can grind your teeth and since you have some gum disease you must be creating a sore spot. I’m not seeing any evidence of grinding, but let’s go ahead and get you treated for gum disease. We’ll need to schedule four [Expensive Treatments].”

(He then leaves, ‘finished’ with his exam, and cannot be found when I go to leave. I am furious that he’d brushed it off as being my anxiety, and I promptly found another dentist who was able to get me in quickly.)

Dentist #2: *having spent a good ten minutes poking and prodding the teeth along my left side* “Okay, and do you have any medical conditions?”

Me: “I have anxiety and take medication for it.”

Dentist #2: “Do those medications cause any dry mouth or irritation?”

Me: “A little dry mouth.”

Dentist #2: “Okay, that’s probably contributed to the little bit of gum disease I’m seeing, but that can be fixed with a deep cleaning. The biggest problem I’m seeing is that you have a wisdom tooth with a massive cavity. It is possible that wisdom tooth is transferring the pain down to here—” *indicating exactly where I’d showed him it was hurting earlier* “Pulling that should help. We can do either pulling, the cleaning, or do them both today.”

Me: “What about the teeth grinding?”

Dentist #2: “What teeth grinding?”

Me: “Another dentist told me it was just my anxiety making me grind my teeth.”

Dentist #2: “Did he mention the grand-canyon sized cavity in the wisdom tooth?”

Me: “No.”

Dentist #2: “Then you might want to never go there again. That was the first thing I saw, and I can’t find a trace of teeth grinding.”

(I ended up getting the wisdom tooth pulled and aside from the pain of having said tooth pulled, my mouth felt better! He also prescribed some antibiotics to help prevent infection from the cavity and that would help clear up some of the gum disease. The cleaning is scheduled for a few weeks from now to give my mouth plenty of time to heal. He also recommended I look into a dry mouth rinse and asked if there were any special procedures to keep in mind for my next appointment because of my anxiety. It just goes to show that looking at the entire problem and not just a small part of it can fix things a lot faster and easier!)

(I am at the same dentist I’ve been going to for the past five years without issue. I brush my teeth twice a day and frequently use dental floss wands. While I do take really good care of my dental hygiene, my teeth aren’t bright white, as whitening toothpaste hurts my sensitive teeth. However, I’ve gotten nothing but glowing reviews from my dental hygienists and dentists the past few years. I haven’t even had a cavity since I was in elementary school. As the dental hygienist is looking at my teeth, she asks me various questions about my dental hygiene.)

Hygienist: “How often do you brush your teeth?”

Me: “Twice daily.”

Hygienist: “Oh, good! Do you floss?”

Me: “I don’t use dental floss, but I use floss wands.”

Hygienist: “Oh, that counts! Good on you for using those.”

(The dentist stops by to do his inspection of my mouth. I have never seen this dentist before, but I’m not worried, since I’ve had nothing but good experiences with this dental practice. It is an uneventful few minutes, until he jabs me unnecessarily hard in one of my back molars with his sharp tool. Keep in mind, I’ve been going to the dentist twice a year for 25 years, so I’m used to the mild pains of getting my teeth inspected and cleaned. This pain is far out of the ordinary and almost feels deliberately hard. I have never had a dental professional cause that kind of pain in my mouth, even from cavities.)

Me: “Ow!”

(I begin to taste blood, which has me really concerned.)

Me: “I taste blood.”

(I say this with his tools still in my mouth, as he has not stopped his inspection at all.)

Dentist: “Well, that wouldn’t have happened if you actually flossed. See, this is why flossing is so important.”

Me: “I do floss.”

(Again, I mumble, as his tools are still in my mouth and I don’t want to be hurt again. He then finishes his inspection, stands up, and quickly speaks to the dental hygienist. While this is happening, I sit up to check on my tooth. I reach into my mouth and pull out a finger with blood on it.)

Dentist: “Schedule a follow-up appointment in one month, due to her poor flossing habits. It would seem she’s caused herself extremely sensitive teeth and gums. She’ll have permanent dental damage if she doesn’t start taking better care of her teeth.”

(The dentist then walks away, leaving me completely speechless.)

Hygienist: “I’m so sorry about that, honey. Let me get you some cotton balls for that blood. I’ll clean that up and try to finish your teeth cleaning.”

Me: *as I’m fighting back tears* “I swear, I do floss! I even have a pack of floss wands in my purse right over there!”

Hygienist: “I’m so sorry, sweetie. You’re fine; I promise. I didn’t see any inflammation or signs of apparent sensitivity. You also didn’t react to my inspection at all, so I don’t think you have overly sensitive teeth from poor dental care. Again, I’m so sorry. He’s the head dentist’s son, and he’s right out of dental school. He’s only temporarily hired until he finds a job at another dental practice. From what we’ve seen so far, he likes to give an excuse why a patient needs an immediate follow-up appointment so he can try to make more money through more appointments. His father has promised that he won’t be here much longer. I’m so sorry you were here on a day that he was scheduled to fill in for his father.”

(The nurse gave me an over-packed goodie bag with stickers, a new toothbrush, three new toothpastes, a small toy, and a new set of floss wands. She also continued to apologize many more times. She told me I wouldn’t need to come in again until my next dental check-up in six months, when she assured me the dentist’s son wouldn’t be employed there anymore. I’ve never had an issue with this dental practice, but if he’s still there when I come back in six months, I’ll be finding a new dentist.)

(I’ve never liked going to the dentist, but this incident really made me hate it more than usual. It’s just a normal annual teeth cleaning, uncomfortable but bearable, but when the hygienist was using the polish, a chunk of it broke off and went down my throat. I started choking and the hygienist had to stop the cleaning for a moment to let me clear my airway.)

Hygienist: “Quit being such a drama queen.”

(I was furious, and made sure to tell my mom about it when I was done. I don’t know if she told the dentist about what happened, but I never saw that hygienist again.)

(I have to get all four wisdom teeth removed just before starting my senior year of high school, and one of them gives me trouble. When we cut the small stitches out, we find the space where that tooth had been still has a little bit open, but don’t think it warrants another stitch. My dentist is explaining safety rules for food and drinks, considering the small hole in my gums.)

Dentist: “Don’t chew on that side if you can avoid it; don’t have anything with alcohol—”

Me: “Well, there goes my entire high school career.”

Dentist: *chuckling* “Smart-a**.”