Zen and the Art of Dental Care

Pulling myself out of the clouds, one x-ray at a time

I just moved to San Francisco, and the first thing on my list was “find a dentist.” (Why, because, well, it’s been some time…).

Where do people go to find a dentist?

I thought of asking friends for a recommendation, but… are dentists really all that different? Clean my teeth, tell me I need to floss more… just get me in and deal with it, will you.

So I Googled. Optimizing for speed of insurance set-up and convenience of appointment time, I went with “Zen Dental Studio.” Lotus blossom logo, “Reconnect with your smile,” the website says, “where we’ll leave your teeth healthy and your soul rejuvenated.” OH is that right?

I walk in Monday at 8am and am quickly corralled into an operating chair. Tatiana, the dental assistant, greets me. She has a heavy accent, and from her response, it’s clear she doesn’t understand me.

“How was your weekend?”

“Terrible,” I say. “I spilled coffee on my laptop.”

“That’s nice,” she says with a smile.

She tells me she came to the U.S. from Russia just one year ago.

She hits a button and I feel massage rollers on my neck turn on. They’re too slow to have any real massaging effect, and too chunky to feel good. It was a nice thought.

I notice a river of black stone pebbles lined up along the wall in front of me. Kinda cheesy, but I get what they’re going for. It’s Zen, ish.

Waiting for Tatiana to process my x-ray results

“Dentophobia” is one of the top phobias. For millions of people, the thought of going to the dentist is anxiety-inducing.

The Doctor walks in and I tell her it’s nice what she’s done with the place.

“Do you find this Zen stuff to help people feel more relaxed?” I ask.

“We try. Do you ever feel anxious coming in to the dentist?”

“Not really,” I retort.

“Have you ever had a root canal or your wisdom teeth removed?”

I shake my head.

“That’s why,” she says and laughs.

Point taken.

Tatiana asks me to get up and walks me over to the “panoramic x-ray,” a machine that looks kinda like the full body scanners they have at the airport, something I’ve never seen at the dentist.

Maintaining her broken English, she walks me into the Austin Powers-looking head-holder device. The braces clamp down on my ears as I clench my jaw into the mouth piece in front of me.

They don’t look too bad to me??

“Hold still,” she says.

The x-ray moves slowly, methodically, around my head. My positioning is tenuous, but I hold as still as possible. Not exactly the Zen I had imagined when I walked in.

I return to my chair. The dentist arrives, introduces herself, and asks what my “dental hygiene routine” is.

“My routine? Well, I brush my teeth, every day.”

“And do you…”

“Yes I floss. Well, I use the floss picks. Not every day. Maybe once a week. I know, it’s something I need to work on.”

I’m down a point already with this new dentist. Not a great start.

She reclines my seat.

“Have you been told about gum recession?” she asks rhetorically.

“Yes, I have,” I tell her confidently.

“And what was the recommendation?”

“To use a softer brush and not be so intense.”

“And how’s that going?”

I blush.  You tell me lady! You’re looking at my teeth!

2 down, the Zenergy is definitely gone by this point.

She asks if I wear a retainer. 

“Yes!! Almost every night!” I blurt out, excited to get a win on the board.

No recognition.

I sit back as she prepares her equipment.

For the next ten minutes, she does her thing. I sit there, mouth wide open, nothing to do or say. No ability to do or say!

My racing brain turns off for a moment. My tension relieves. She tells me I need to see a “gum doctor” (apparently it’s a thing), and that I also “potentially” have 2 cavities (unclear how cavities can be “potential”).

But the news doesn’t hit me.

For ten minutes, I feel so completely, normal.

I feel… like everyone else.

That feeling that’s so basic, so regular, and yet so rare. There’s no problem for me to solve, no decision to make, no big consequence on the line.

Last I felt it was waiting in line for a new passport at the U.S. Passport Agency, alongside 500 other completely random people. Old people and young people, every look and fashion style and vibe and smell imaginable. People coming from all over the place, who, after they get their passports, will be going to who knows where, all over the world, for who knows what reason, on who knows what date!

Me, doing a thing, with all these strangers. We’re all doing the thing, the same thing, which has nothing to do with any particular aspect of ourselves, except our mere existence as human beings in this society today.

In an age where everything is hyper-personalized, where our technology plays into the most stirring elements of our tribal instincts — social exclusivity, uniqueness, ‘winning’… there’s something refreshing about feeling like everyone else.

Not just being, but DOING the thing as everyone else, together, for no reason other than us all being human.

It’s like the world isn’t actually as small as I often feel it is. That maybe, just maybe, my problems aren’t everything.

It’s grounding.

It’s centering.

It’s Zen.

That’s it!

The Zen Dental Studio. Where your soul will be rejuvenated by your recollection of your own humanity.

Tatiana hands me a gift bag as I walk out. I owe a $397 deductible, have two “potential” cavities, and need to see a gum doctor. But I got a free toothbrush and some floss I’ll never use.

It was worth it.