The Hole truth...

Hi everyone!

It has been a few years (okay, maybe many years) since I last sat in a dentist’s chair. My last visit ended in an extraction, which was enough trauma to convince me that “dentist” should remain a word best avoided in both speech and reality. However, as with all things in life, time (and sugar) wait for no man, and eventually a rather impressive cavity announced its presence. Not a chip, not a crack, an actual hole. A hole so large it deserved naming rights. The Hole. Capital H!

This announcement came suddenly, and despite my best efforts at good oral hygiene over the years, including brushing twice daily, regularly flossing, using mouthwash, and avoiding refined sugars, I was left to wonder how on earth this had happened.

There is a notion that a man who has a toothache endures suffering comparable to that of torture, as in the days of the Roman Empire, or "Damnatio ad bestias." I can attest that it's not totally wrong. Let's just say that the pain I was experiencing before seeing the dentist was indescribable, and let's move on.

So, with all the courage of a gladiator walking into the Colosseum, I went off to Dental Image in Port Elizabeth. Dr Mare and her dental assistant were phenomenal. (I really should leave them a five-star review.)

Before I knew it, the chair reclined, my mouth opened, and suddenly I was no longer Euan Martins, but an archaeological dig site. There was probing, digging, and the unsettling soundtrack of whirring machinery. The suction pipe made noises that can only be described as “drowning squid.” I even got to see my teeth on an X-ray, which, let’s be honest, is a surreal experience. It was pretty cool to see, but what happens in the mouth should stay there. They did have some awesome tunes playing in the background, as well.

They kindly applied numbing cream before the injection, and, truth be told, I barely felt it. The experience I had constructed in my head, involving unbearable pain and medieval torture devices, was far worse than the reality. After a while, I closed my eyes and, dare I say, I nearly fell asleep as the calm settled over me.

That, perhaps, is the real moral of the story: most of our fears exist more vividly in our imaginations than in the world itself.

A big thanks to the wonderful team at Dental Image for their incredible service. They turned what I had long dreaded into something almost enjoyable (yes, I said almost).

Wishing you a week free of cavities, crises, and any other unnecessary holes.

Stay away from the sugar!

Euan