The One Afraid of the Drill and the One Who Breathes Out Slowly

Three in the afternoon, the waiting room of a small dental clinic. I am sitting on a plastic chair next to the water cooler, both hands clamped between my knees. Behind the frosted glass door a drill whines up, stops, then whines up again. Two voices in me are talking to each other, and I am writing it down.

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: Hear that? Drilling again. Time to go home. I can book again next week.

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: Next week will be the same. I know, because last week I said exactly that.

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: But that sound… it goes all the way to the root of the tooth. I have not even sat in the chair and I can already feel it.

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: Yes. You really can feel it. I am not telling it to stop. I only want to breathe out once, all right?

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: What do I get from breathing out? The drill does not get any quieter.

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: It does not. I am not promising it will. It is only that right now my shoulders are up by my ears, and I can lower them a little.

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: … My neck does feel a bit tight. But what if the dentist hurts me?

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: Then I raise my hand. I asked at the desk earlier: raising the left hand means the dentist stops.

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: But I tend to hold my breath when the drill starts. I noticed.

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: Yes, I noticed too. So in the chair I will not practice anything. I will only check whether I am holding it. If I am, I breathe out naturally, then listen to the dentist.

The-One-Who-Is-Afraid: I am still afraid, you know.

The-One-Who-Breathes-Out: I know. I am coming with you.

The frosted door opens. A nurse holds a slip of paper and calls, "Quyên, please come in." I stand up. The one who is afraid still comes along, only this time it does not walk in front.

I wrote this conversation down because in that waiting room I realized I had said one sentence to myself that nobody had to teach me: "I am not telling it to stop." In the past I always tried to force it quiet. The harder I pushed, the louder it got. This time I let it finish its sentence, and then I breathed out.

A few things to remember if you try this. In the dentist's chair, listen to the dentist first, and do not hold your breath or force deep breaths while the work is going on. Just notice whether you are holding it, and if you are, breathe out naturally. Ask before you begin how to signal if you want the dentist to stop. If you feel dizzy, short of breath, tightness in the chest or tingling in your hands while in the chair, tell the dentist right away and do not try to push through. This piece does not explain causes and does not replace a doctor.

And if the fear is so strong that you have avoided going for years even with a sore tooth, or your eating and sleeping fall apart before an appointment, please say so to your dentist or to someone qualified to help. Being afraid of this is something many people share, and it is no one's fault.

Breathing out more slowly like this is close to the piece on a longer exhale, only much shorter the way I do it. And if your fear sits somewhere else, in a meeting or a piece of criticism, three breaths after being criticized in front of everyone comes from the same spirit.