Fear of the dentist.

Published Meath Chronicle 19th February 2013.

An invisible cap tightened its grip around her head as the first rays climbed the curtains and painted the walls. She was blind with sleep. The whole night twisting and turning, she huffed and puffed then cursed the day ahead.  Handfuls of water failed to restore her distorted image in the mirror and squinting against the naked light she plastered those wrinkles she could no longer ignore.

Downstairs, the cats eyed her with concern. She was unable to speak; they knew it and kept their distance. Fighting with her belt, she stamped in frustration sending them scurrying for the safety of the sofa´s shadows. And there they stayed, secretly conceding that today they weren´t coming out until she was gone. The woman stormed down the coffee, burning her throat but when the caffeine kicked in, she felt a little better. However, she couldn´t relax as the dread came again in waves.

Five minutes of frantic bag searching later, she was in the hallway. Outside the air rippled with cold. The spring sunshine distracted her from where she was going and she sparked up a cigarette.  Climbing the hill to town, she puffed deeply. Her heels echoed ahead drawing admiring looks from workmen busying in the opposite direction. Despite the attention, her ego dwindled as the destination loomed. Maybe they´d discover her vice, she agonised and flung the lit butt to the ground, breathing in and out furiously to get rid of the tobacco smell.

When the woman arrived, she was gasping and doubled over. She caught her hunched silhouette in the reflection of the door and set about straightening her clothing.  She thought, “I don´t have to go in, I can leave now and cancel by phone”. But her finger resisted, pressed the buzzer and when the video intercom crackled into life it was clear there was no going back.

Like the condemned to a gallows, she climbed the stairs. The receptionists had seen it all before and greeted her with a smile and much encouragement. While their smiles seemed genuine the disinfectant smell tweaked her bladder, she fled for the toilet. Safely inside, she bolted the door and rallied the troops. “This is stupid, it´s not as if you haven´t done it before, come on now!” Pulling herself together, she put on a brave face in the mirror and washed her hands,  “Stop fretting, everything´s going to be fine!”

Outside her name rang up and down the corridor. She took a deep breath and walked directly to the room at the end, her head swimming with possibilities. It was too late for further hesitation; she went in and sat down. There was a knock at the door, a man entered and she recognised the same brave face. He was her first patient of the day.

The Pulled Tooth.

Published Meath Chronicle 23rd January 2013.

Pressure, push, push. It loosened, then shivered like a wet dog until it was out. “Is that it?” asked himself, “Jaysus Doc that´s great, I never felt a thing”. “From now on, I´m going to come more regularly”, he sat up and studied the pulled tooth on the tray. Turning it over and over, “Look at that hole and the size of the roots on it”. “How I´ve suffered Doc”, he sighed and in the same breath, “can I take it home to show the kids so they´ll brush their teeth?”

Believe it or not this is not an uncommon reaction to having an extraction. Although there is the question of who actually now owns the tooth, whether it´s the dentist´s - because he pulled it or the patient´s - who arrived with it so perhaps should leave with it, the most important point is what cause and effect a story illustrated by said tooth will have on his children.

Try and picture the scenario: kids sat around the table finishing their dinner.  “And do you know where I was today?” asks himself. “At the dentist!” they chime back in chorus. “And do you know why I was at the dentist?” glancing at the five year old, “Because you had a sore tooth Daddy”. The father again, “And what happens if we don´t look after our teeth?” Before they can answer, out comes the monster and holding the pulled tooth up so they can all see it, he declares, “This is what happens if you don´t brush your teeth”.

We can imagine the sight of your father´s extracted 3-rooted upper molar being fairly traumatic for a five year old. With only milk teeth for comparison and the fact kids have no idea about roots, its close-up would be intimidating. Next comes the question, “how did the dentist get it out?” which I won´t expand upon to protect trade secrets and finally the child´s most probable conclusion, “It must have hurt?”

With the kitchen light still glinting on the tooth´s enamel this thought process called causality, how one thing causes/links to another, has taken less than five seconds. Although the father continues to explain that he felt nothing during the extraction, the children are soon imagining blood, guts and a gaping hole where the tooth once lived. We now have kids who will scrub their teeth fearfully twice a day however you´ll only get them through the dentist´s door kicking and screaming.

I´m sure this wasn´t the father´s intention but often we don´t consider how our stories impact on children. Looking to our own past we don´t remember a steady stream of events, we remember chunks, scenes, anecdotes which we later reconnect into memories. These stories hold our lives together, where we heard it, who told us it and our connection to the teller. We collect information and use it at each crossroads we come across in life, whether to slow down at the dangerous bend or whether to go to the dentist when a tooth is sensitive before it starts aching

So think well before you tell a story because one day it may become your own, the only memory you have left behind when you depart this mortal coil. And don´t ask me for that tooth because it´s mine, I pulled it!

What´s in a smile?

Published in Meath Chronicle 28/12/2012

His head tilted, the guitarist tickled the strings and the other clapped, chirped and warbled. They slowed as a small girl strode into the arena wearing a tight, colourful dress. A staccato of feet and she commanded the stage and the viewers' attention. Her hair was oiled and scraped back, face locked in concentration, she battered the boards. Thrusting her hips forward; spinning, scolding, then inviting. We feared the wooden platform would give way under the dancer´s energy but it held firm as she hovered in a display that defied gravity. We too, were sweating when she threw her arms into the air and her features finally relaxed into a broad grin. We took to our feet, smiling back among roars of applause.

A flamenco show, a whispered joke, a warm embrace, the emotion seethes to our brain tickling the left anterior temporal region which fires impulses to our face where two muscles stir into action. The zygomatic major which lies along the cheek pulls our lips upwards and the orbicularis oculi muscle encircling the eye socket lifts our brows and squeezes the corners of our eyes. The entire process lasts between one and four seconds.

Other muscles can mimic a smile but only this intimate tango produces the expression known as a “Duchenne smile”. Named after the French anatomist Guillaume Duchenne, it is an indicator of positive emotion. He honed his theories in the nineteenth century by shocking the heads of executed criminals. Although a smile can reflect various emotions, including embarrassment, deceit, and grief, Duchenne noted that the eyes held the secret to expressing true joy.

Guillaume Duchenne, anatomist & neurologist (1806-1875)

Since then, our understanding of the smile has raised more eyebrows. We now know that the intensity of a grin can predict marital and personal happiness, and maybe even how long we´ll live. The saying that “a smile is a window to the soul” rings true for researchers at the University of California who analysed the college yearbook photos of women. They followed their personal lives for the next 30 years and discovered those women who had more Duchenne-like expressions in their photo at 21 years old also had higher levels of wellbeing and marital satisfaction at 52. Another study that rated the smiles of baseball players from photos taken in1952 concluded that those with positive smiles were half as likely to have died that those who didn´t.

Mental health experts have also noticed that wherever positive emotions go, "Duchenne" smiles follow. Patients with depression displayed such smiles more on release interviews than during their admissions; the patient´s smiling also increased throughout therapy as their condition improved.

The universality of smiling and that we begin so young has lead to the conclusion that this particular human expression has more to do with evolution than culture. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that newborns can accurately display and interpret facial expressions. At just 10 months, for instance, an infant will offer a false smile to a stranger while reserving a genuine, "Duchenne" smile for its mother. Other studies showed that when mothers faked depression, infants shook their tiny fists in distress while after just 3 minutes of smile-free interaction they became withdrawn.

Infants as young as 10 months know the value of a smile.

Science has identified possible reasons why we find a smile attractive. MRI scans of subjects viewing pretty faces have shown activity in the part of the brain that produces sensory rewards. The activity increased when a smile was added to the mix. So, not only, does a smile make us more attractive to others it helps us feel better about ourselves. So this holiday Navan Dental hopes you´ll all be smiling and remember the words of Louis Armstrong, “the whole world smiles with you”.