Photo courtesy Perceptive.
By combining 3D imaging, machine learning and precision robotics, the makers of the Perceptive Robot Dentist claim it can perform procedures faster and more accurately than human dentists. IEEE Spectrum reports that “a dental procedure that typically requires several hours and multiple visits” can instead be completed by a robot “in minutes in a single visit” with “better results.”
— from the RethinkX newsletter, September 25, 2024.
The world is changing so fast, I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. And by that I mean, one of those modern roller coasters where you get turned upside down.
One of the few places I felt like I could relax, was during my six-month visit to the dentist. The receptionist welcomed me with a smile. “Hi, Louis. Great to see you again. How’s the humor column doing?”
Then I’d have a chance to peruse the latest Guns & Ammo magazine for a few minutes, until they called me into the operating room. I would settle back into the comfortably padded chair, put on sunglasses, and let my mouth hang open for 30 minutes, while an attractive hygienist brought my teeth back to sparkling white condition, while regaling me with stories about her latest adventures in the Weminuche Wilderness.
Then we’d review my new x-rays, and she would call in the dentist to give an opinion. He’d quickly identify the cavity forming in tooth number 20 (lower left, second bicuspid) and recommend a visit next month to get it fixed. I learned that I could ignore his advice, and wait three or four years, until the tooth needed a root canal.
My latest visit to the dentist was totally different.
For one thing, the receptionist had been replaced by a computer screen and a recorded voice. (It sounded like the same voice I hear when I have to leave a voice mail.) Apparently, the computer was equipped with face-recognition software. “Welcome, Louis. Please place your right index finger on the black plastic sensor in front of you, to sign the medical release form.” I had to think for a second which was my right hand.
“Thank you, Louis. We see that your medical insurance will be covering 80% of your visit today. You’re a few minutes late for your appointment, but our team will still be happy to accommodate you. You’re client number 47. Take a seat in the waiting room until we call your number.”
The waiting room was full of people checking their social media accounts. I looked around for a magazine and didn’t see any, so I pulled out my phone to check whether my latest humor column had been posted… and to see how poorly it had been edited.
I watched my fellow patients walk into the operating room, one at a time, as their numbers were called, and then walk out about five minutes later, rubbing their jaws and looking like they’d just seen a ghost.
Presently, a voice over the sound system announced “Number 47. The doctor will see you now.”
There was no one in the operating room when I walked in. Just a big video screen, and a large, gray robotic device mounted next to the chair. No doctor in sight. No attractive hygienist.
But a lady dressed like a hygienist appeared on the video screen, instructing me to take a seat and make myself comfortable.
Fat chance feeling comfortable, sitting down next to a huge robotic machine armed with various drills and other dentistry tools!
No sooner was I seated, than a paper bib attached itself around my neck, my head was pinned by a couple of remotely-controlled ear-pads, and the video lady told me to open wide, and relax. Next thing, a tiny video camera entered my mouth and looked around, followed by a hydraulic spray nozzle. About 30 seconds later, my teeth had been thoroughly cleaned and rinsed. The video lady announced that I had a cavity forming in Tooth 20, and because I had signed a medical release when entering the office, I was required to have it filled.
A robotic arm bearing a drill inserted itself into my open mouth, while a second robotic arm, equipped with a video camera, held my mouth open. What happened to pain-killers? But the pain was minimal, and within a couple of minutes, the cavity had been filled with a white goop that tasted like baking soda and was probably poisonous, but who am I to complain?
Plus, there was no one to complain to.
And that’s probably the worst part of the whole thing.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.