For many people the words 'dental appointment' are enough to cause instant nausea. But it doesn't have to be that way.
I don't mind spiders; in fact I think they're kind of cute. Heights - no problem. Ditto the dark, confined spaces, open spaces, flying on planes and thunder storms.
However, for years the mere mention of visiting the dentist, the mere thought of it, has reduced me to a quivering wreck.
My fear has a name, it has a few in fact. You can call it dental phobia, odontophobia, dentophobia, dentist phobia, or dental anxiety - it all comes down to the same thing: the fact that I would rather jab rusty pins in my eyes than step inside a dental clinic.
I can at least trace the origins of my fear. I was about 14 years old when I went for my usual annual check-up with our friendly local dentist. I'd always received a clean bill of health and was actually rather smug about the state of my youthful pearly whites compared to my less fortunate younger sister who was regularly having bits of metal crammed into her mouth.
However, on this particular life-changing occasion, my (ageing) family dentist completed his usual scrutiny with a tut and "someone needs a bit of work". And then, more ominously, "but you're a brave girl and can stand a bit of pain & "
The next five hours (okay, it was probably ten minutes, but it felt like eternity) are a horrible blur of scraping, bleeding, nerve-jabbing and tears. He called it "a clean", I called it attempted murder.
When I finally left the surgery I knew that I had been mentally scarred, but I didn't expect it to last into my thirties.
So, as the years rolled by I, shall we say, "avoided" sitting in the black leather torture chair until as fate would have it, I was asked to visit a clinic promoting a new concept in dental care in Dubai. Ever-willing to push the envelope for Unwind readers, I agreed to visit The Dental Spa on Dubai's Jumeirah Beach Road to see if I could lay some childhood demons to rest and find out what the heck the word "spa" was doing after the word "dental" anyway.
I was greeted at the clinic by smiley receptionists who looked like they would be equally at home in a good nail salon and asked to relax in the waiting area with a drink and some magazines. So far, so good.
After a while I was taken to meet my hygienist Hilary who managed to put me at ease and prise my fingers from the door frame (just joking, sort of). My treatment for the day was to be a routine clean and a teeth whitening.
All kidding aside, phobias are horrible things and although Hilary was all smiles as she gently ushered me into the big black chair, my palms were soaking wet and the urge to run was overwhelming. And then I noticed how soft the chair was and - wait a minute - where are all the trays of scary, sharp metal torture implements?
My very laid-back hygienist chatted to me about what my treatment would entail and explained how with the whitening they would be going for a natural looking shade a few grades brighter than my original colour.
"So what will it be, Friends or Frasier?" - she said, nodding to the flat-screen television positioned above my head (I'd assumed it was some sort of X-ray device).
"Why don't you just sit back and relax and I'll get ready to give your teeth a nice clean." And miraculously, as she put some headphones on me so I could watch Frasier (a programme I absolutely love) I did start to unwind.
The dental "suites" as they are referred to are cleverly designed to be a million miles away from the stereotype most of us have of a sterile, impersonal medical room. Warm scented towels, aromatherapy neck pillows and blankets are just a few of the extras provided to put patients at ease. And any tools required are well out of sight.
"Open wide," said Hilary and I felt my fear factor threatening to return to level critical as she began cleaning around each tooth with a thin plastic hose. But after a while it felt & fine.
My teeth had not been professionally cleaned in a long time - in fact I'm too embarrassed to say how long, but let's just say she had her work cut out for her. The sensation was one of mild watery abrasion with a few seconds of discomfort easily ignored by watching the television. And the biggest difference is the feeling that your stress level is the primary concern. I guess they have a point to prove.
After about 45 minutes my mouth felt amazing, although my hygienist looked like she'd returned from the brink of a particularly bloody battle, bless her. When she told me to relax while she prepared to give me the whitening treatment I actually said "great!". Me, the hardened dentophobic, cheerfully looking forward to my next session in the chair &.
After Hilary had switched on my chair's massage setting (I wasn't even surprised by this point), she lodged a long, weird blue rubbery contraption in mouth and I kept thinking I must resemble Jack Nicholson's Joker in Batman when he stares at his surgically-created grin in a mirror.
It wasn't the most comfortable feeling, but again I resumed my reclining Frasier-watching position and let the massager do its stuff and all was well again. For about an hour my teeth were coated in strange pastes and given blasts of ultraviolet light, and although I was occasionally fighting the urge to swallow, it was really not too bad. I could go through it again without hesitation.
Near the end of the session, a therapist came into the room to give me a complimentary warm paraffin wax hand treatment and massage. It all seemed surreally logical. Why wouldn't I have a hand massage? - I'm at the dentist for goodness' sake!
At the end the whitening plastic guard was thankfully removed and my teeth were given a spritz and a buff.
I took a look in the mirror and was rewarded with a healthy, white, very natural-looking set of teeth smiling back at me. To be honest, I actually felt quite emotional - it's amazing how what goes on inside our mouth affects how we feel.
I couldn't stop poking the nooks and crannies of my mouth with my tongue and was told that I might feel a bit odd for a while but that was just normal. In truth, it just felt ultra, ultra healthy in there.
So, as I cheerfully left the suite to go and flaunt my bravery and shiny smile to friends, my hygienist called after me: "Don't leave it so long next time!". And I won't; it's no big deal anymore.
Leading the way
The founder of The Dental Spa, Dr Ahmed Amer, has brought more than 20 years of experience to Dubai and is passionate about taking care of his patients' overall health and wellness. He is one of the pioneers of providing a pain-free, patient-friendly environment and a fully digital approach to dentistry.
