Raising fears.

Published in Meath Chronicle Tuesday 23rd july 2013.


They´d been shouting in whispers all morning, her younger brother hadn´t noticed. Yesterday´s clothes gave off a musty odour adding to her tiredness while downstairs the parents batted looks of scorn over cereal bowls as she umpired their silence.  Still unaware of the game she hoped things would improve when Dad finished his coffee and left for work.

They didn´t; the car was tense. Finally, switched on to the situation, her brother resorted to needy mode. He suddenly became useless, fiddling with his seatbelt and complaining his shoes hurt. Up front the mother crunched through the gears and the traffic. The girl undid her own seatbelt to loosen her brother´s shoelaces and make sure his belt was secure. “Your father won´t be collecting you after school today”, the mother declared as she huffed before another red light, “I will”.

Distracted and tapping the steering wheel, “You know every night when we brush our teeth. Well today, you´re going to visit the man who makes sure your teeth are okay. He´s called the dentist” she hissed the final syllable, a screech of tyres ending all discussion.

Her girlfriends shared their dentist stories during break. Most were positive so she felt better when her mother returned at home time. Her brother was already in the car with his tired, hungry face. They parked up and the little boy was deposited roughly in his buggy. The mother was oblivious to the tears that streamed down his hot cheeks so the girl grabbed his hand and squeezed, wishing she too was somewhere else.

In the waiting room, they waited their turn. The mother tore sweaty fingers through countless magazines, reading none of them. When a smiling lady opened the door and called the girl´s name, she jumped up from the sofa, tripping over herself with excitement, and fell hard on her knee. The mother rushed to her rescue. “You´re okay, darling. Don´t worry it´s only a scratch, it´s fine”, she reassured rubbing the fresh bruise.

The mother looked up at the nurse and her caring expression evaporated. She shrank back; returning to the magazines where the toddler recorded everything through half closed eyes. Despite the storm of confusion brimming in her brain, the girl took the nurse´s hand and left her mother, her brother and the waiting room. She repeated the nurse´s words over in her head, “such a brave girl”, “such a brave girl”.

“What´s your name?” asked the dentist giving her a big smile as she jumped up on the chair. “It´s your first time with us but where are your parents?” “They´re scared of the dentist”, she replied in that honest way kids only know. “They had a row this morning because my dad didn´t want to bring us. My mam is too nervous to come in and my younger brother´s pretending to be asleep…But I´m not scared, I´m here for my check-up”. And she opened her nearly four-year-old mouth as wide as she could.

The thin veneer

Published Meath Chronicle 26/06/2013

After all these years, the receptionist watched the dentist finally sign the papers. She whisked them up, packed them into an oversized envelope and presented it back to him. He threw her a tight-lipped smile and headed for the post. As the glass shuddered after him, she recalled those signs from her college days in London, grubby signs hung in hotels and guest house windows, often hand scribbled yet still carved in her heart.

Heavy clouds hovered overhead, the air was saturated. A few hardy types well insulated against the elements led the way. Mid-morning breaks never used to be a reality but since the bubble burst he had time on his hands, too much time. Scurrying past the shopping centre he clutched the envelope as if his future depended on it. At least the older clients hadn´t abandoned him. Yet he still felt a little embarrassed when they enquired about business. He didn´t enjoy lying to them, nor to his family for that matter, however the signs were there – flaking paint on the exterior, the patched-up equipment and same-day appointments always available. Most knew his prices hadn´t budged in years; those that complained weren´t sent reminders. After all, he was an experienced dentist and deserved every penny he could wring out of them.

The queue at the post office was moving well until the waves of doubt rolled in again. Suddenly, he felt like an old cloth, once useful but now scrunched up and discarded to dry and wither in some window where one day, if someone should find and try and open him up, he would simply crumble to dust. “Was this envelope the answer to his troubles?” The question still hung on the line when a retired colleague interrupted his thought convention. This good old boy was in great form, having sold up before the crisis, he praised his friend for holding out.  Heads turned as the old-timer worked himself into a lather of criticism against other dentists in town who had dropped their prices, practically foaming at the mouth on the subject of websites and patients shopping around.  “That never happened in our day, eh? If they didn´t like it they went up North, now the Northerners are down here!”

Distracted by the commotion, he didn´t realise he was now hiding the envelope behind his back. Until the old boy spotted it, “What have you got there?” The other retreated, his face reddening with every step towards the door. “Hey, where are you going…and why aren´t you working this morning?” the sentiment squeezed him into the street. He ran for it. 

The receptionist saw him coming. Her heart sank at the sight of the envelope containing the application forms. Those signs from her youth came flooding back – "No Blacks, no Dogs, no Irish". She trembled as she touched her own envelope deep in her tunic´s pocket. Resignation or overreaction, thoughts of family kept it hidden.  The dentist stormed in, refusing to look her in the eye, he casually straightened his sign in the window, it read – NO MEDICAL CARDS.

Dr. Don Mac Auley.

First Impressions.

Published Meath Chronicle 23/04/2013.

At Navan Dental, the Dentists like to meet their clients in the waiting room. It´s best to greet patients in a relaxed environment where they feel secure among friends or other patients before showing them to the treatment room, we always use first names. Eye contact and a smile for new patients are particularly important to make a good first impression.

That´s the theory, however, reality can often shatter our illusions. From kids wrestling on the floor to heated political debate you never know what you´ll find when you open the waiting room door. The other day was no exception when I called a new patient, only to watch a tall, raven-haired beauty unwind herself from the arm chair opposite and walk towards me. Sleek lines and cheekbones like side-view mirrors, I struggled to steer my eye contact and brake my falling jaw, meanwhile on the sofa men jittered, women tutted loudly and the receptionists made big-eyes. This girl was seriously attractive.

It was a tricky lead down the corridor to the surgery but with every chime of her high-heels behind, my warning bell began to tinkle. Something was wrong here, or missing, or both. Then it dawned on me, she hadn´t smiled in those first seconds of meeting, not a flicker. Dentists can learn a lot about a patient´s demeanour from this first contact – whether a patient is nervous, relaxed or even spot a bit of work that needs doing – when a smile is missing, despite distractions, it doesn´t escape us. Now, studying her in the dental chair she appeared more sad than sexy and even talking she made a conscious effort not to show her teeth. When I enquired how we could help she finally opened her mouth and said, “I want my teeth whitened I have a wedding in two weeks”.

It would have been easier to white-wash the north face of the Eiger while attached to a bungee cord than perform such a task; her teeth were a mess. Decayed, broken and missing, years of neglect and I´d two weeks to turn it all around. I half expected a TV crew to pop their heads around the door and ask silly questions like, “Will she need veneers, Doc?” or “Can you rebuild her?” These quick-fix programmes have a lot to answer for by creating impossible expectations and not telling us the whole truth – dental treatment takes time, whitening can cause sensitivity and veneers sometimes fall off. Also drilling into sound tooth to place veneers is something Dentists don´t consider lightly.  And remember we´re not talking about popping in a pair of silicone breasts here, the mouth is a hazardous place, with heavy-duty forces amid an acidic swill of bacteria. But still we are driven to improve and enhance, to fit in, keep up or dazzle with that first impression.

This conditioning can take many forms. From glossy magazines to the miracle makeovers we are mislead to neglect our interiors, we forget to spring-clean or move the furniture about, instead we insist upon painting our pebbledash the same colour as the neighbours. The problem is some day you´ll have to invite someone inside or heaven forbid, a professional peeps through your blinds.

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”.