Dentistry Unlocked

Usually, when I’m in a state of limbo, I find myself restless — constantly worrying about what’s next. Like after uni, before I wrote the MDCN exam — the nothingness was draining. The days felt painfully repetitive, every one blending into the next. But this time, "fortunately" (read:  unfortunately ), I already know what’s next:  NYSC  — the one-year mandatory service that every graduate has to complete.  “Serve your country,” they said. As if the country has ever returned the favor. I’ve always thought NYSC was kind of… pointless. A full year that delays real life. It doesn’t feel like a launchpad — it feels like a setback. And nearly everyone I talk to agrees. It’s one big collective sigh, like “let’s just get it over with.” From the registration process, to camp, to the monthly clearances, to the consistently questionable pay — everything about it feels like stress on top of stress. And then there’s the unpredictability: not knowing where they’ll post you, not kn...

So you might’ve noticed I haven’t really said much about the personalities of the seniors I worked with. That’s intentional. I don’t usually talk about things that are out of my control — and the hierarchy in the hospital? Very much one of those things. Even though there’s clearly something broken about the system, there’s not much a house officer like me can do to change it. Everyone sees it, but no one says anything. Or they do — and it goes nowhere. I never realized just how deeply hierarchy shapes the workplace until I got here. And the worst part? Even if you don’t notice it at first, they’ll make sure you do. As house officers, we were at the very bottom of the ladder. Honestly, if there’s a space below the ladder, that’s where we were. We did the jobs no one else wanted — or worse, the jobs someone else was supposed to do but decided they couldn’t be bothered. And sure, I get it — we’re there to learn, and that includes learning through work. But let’s be honest: most of it w...

If you’ve spoken to me at any point over the last few months, chances are you’ve heard me say — half-jokingly — that I think my frontal lobe has finally developed. And while I usually say it with a laugh, there’s actually some truth in it. I really  do  believe it. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but something in me changed. I just feel... different. Different in the way I think. Different in the way I move through life. I used to be the kind of person who did whatever I was told — no questions asked. I never challenged anything, never doubted anyone’s judgment. I just assumed everyone knew better than me. I thought that’s how life worked. But over the past year — maybe it was the stress, the tough calls, the unexpected situations I somehow survived — something shifted.  My perspective evolved. I started asking questions without worrying how I’d be perceived. I stopped being afraid to speak up. I began trusting my own instincts more than blind authority. I ...

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be an orthodontist. I knew I wanted to study something in the medical field, but medicine felt like a bit  too  much. Dentistry, on the other hand, felt like the perfect middle ground — still rooted in medicine, but more focused. (Which is funny, because let’s be real:  dentistry is basically medicine . Everything is connected, and we still studied all the medical courses in uni.)  But orthodontics? That’s always been  it  for me. That was the dream. Maybe it started when I got braces myself — I found the entire process fascinating. But ever since, I had tunnel vision. The only reason I even chose to study dentistry in the first place was because it’s a prerequisite to becoming an orthodontist. So, tell me why, just  two weeks  into my orthodontic posting, I was spiraling into a full-blown  existential crisis . I was googling “non-clinical dental careers” like my life de...

I was pretty indifferent to Cons before this rotation. I was used to doing fillings, root canals, crown preps — it wasn’t anything new or exciting to me. But what I wasn’t ready for was the sheer number of patients we had to see. For the first few weeks, all we were allowed to do as house officers was clerking . Once we submitted and got our endo blocks approved (basically extracted natural teeth that we’d practiced root canals on), we could start working on actual patients. We started small — doing GICs on pediatric patients , then regular fillings, and finally root canals, from anterior teeth to molars. Sadly, we weren’t allowed to do crown preps — which, surprisingly, I loved doing in uni. Now, the biggest issue in this unit? No space, and way too many patients. There were only three dental chairs , and yet we were seeing an average of 30 patients a day . Sounds like good clinical exposure, right? In theory. But throw in the usual problems — chairs not working, supplies runnin...

There I was in the clinic, like any ordinary day. A patient walks in, and on examination, his cheekbone looks a little off — slightly depressed. The doctor glances at him and immediately knows what’s going on. He turns to me and asks, “Have you ever seen a zygomatic lift in action?” Of course, my answer is no. Without wasting time, the patient is prepped. Everything gets anesthetized. An incision is made near his ear. The doctor pulls out a Rowe’s zygomatic elevator — something I’ve only ever seen in slides during practical — and begins. What followed was equal parts fascinating and horrifying: The  incision  behind the ear (clean) The  instrument’s path  through tissue (squelchy) The patient’s  guttural shout  as bone snapped back into place (unforgettable) It’s one of those moments that completely sweeps the rug out from under you. One minute you’re standing there, alone with your thoughts, and the next you’re watching a full-blown procedure happen ri...