Commentary by Adam Smith

The North Jefferson News



There’s a 1976 movie called “Marathon Man,” starring Dustin Hoffman and Sir Laurence Olivier.

In this movie, there’s a crucial scene in which Dustin Hoffman is in a dentist’s chair and Sir Laurence Olivier is asking him, “Is it safe?”

No matter what answer Hoffman gives, Olivier, playing the role of a ruthless Nazi dentist, tortures him by drilling holes in his teeth. This movie is one of the reasons why I’ve always been petrified of dentists.

I say this because this week I will once again face my fears as I approach a dental procedure on Friday. I have an abscessed tooth and I must decide between facing my fears or continue to deal with a swollen face and mild discomfort. In this case, vanity wins and I’ll stare down drills, needles and other shiny metal things to have a normal-sized face again.

My last dental procedure was done in 2004, when I had my wisdom teeth yanked out. I don’t really remember much about it, except counting backwards from 100 and then waking up with a mouth full of gauze. Afterward, I was plopped down in a wheelchair in front of the reception area, where I tried to flirt with the pretty hygienist behind the counter. I guess I looked pretty funny trying to hit on her with a swollen face and the stoned look of anesthesia still heavy in my eyes. I guess that explains why she laughed in my face and walked away.

Aside from sharp pointy things and embarrassment, there are other reasons why I’ve always hated dentist offices. There are the outdated magazines, bad 1970s pop music coming from some unknown source and dental hygienists with a less-than-sunny disposition. Granted, these impressions came from my first experiences with dentist offices and the memory has stuck with me.

However, on Monday I happened across a dentist office that was none of those things. They had flat-screen televisions, a relaxing gas log fire in a fireplace, overstuffed chairs, the sound of bubbling brooks, a seemingly friendly staff and a head dentist who actually seemed to give a rat’s behind about my problem. The office was so comfortable, I would have likely moved in, had they presented that as an option.

I’m sure by Friday I’ll be a ball of nerves about my dental procedure. I just hope I don’t wake up from an anesthesia-induced sleep to find Laurence Olivier standing over me, holding a drill.

However, if I was a dentist, I do think it would be funny to have a Laurence Olivier mask. When my patients emerged from their slumber, I’d ask them, “Is it safe?” They might get freaked out, but I think it would be a pretty good joke.