Dutch Courage

I always wondered where the phrase Dutch courage came from.  Now I finally know.  The Dutch don’t recognise pain. They have nerves of steel.

This is especially true in the north of Holland. It must be their Calvinistic background where they’re expected to just get on with it - no complaining or whinging.  Any sign of weakness is definitely frowned upon.

On the other side of the North Sea however, you are offered all kinds of pills, potions and pampering even for the most innocuous of procedures.

“In-growing toenail Mrs Jones?  No problem, you can go for the sedative package where we also gently coax you to sleep with accompanying harp music or the sound of whales playing in a distant bay. 

And when you wake, there’ll be a lovely cup of tea with assorted biscuits waiting for you.”

“Ooh, sounds lovely doctor!”  

Here in NL they’ll pull out the rusty pliers and whip it out in a flash with the minimum of fuss and without even the trace of a custard cream.

Recently I was in the unfortunate position where I needed to have two wisdom teeth removed.  It came as a bit of a shock as my previous dentist in the UK told me long ago that they all had been removed.  I believed him.  I had no cause not to.

But once I’d received this startling news, I began to wonder what it was exactly he had removed.  And, more importantly, had I missed it?

I went to see the dentist for a chat, a sort of an interim prep meeting.  Or so I thought.

We discussed timeframes for the removal of the two offending items.  I was thinking, let’s leave it for a good 6-8 months, after all they weren’t hurting right now so why rock the boat eh?

He looked at his watch.

“I’ve got time right now if you’re not busy, I can get it done before lunch.”

My jaw hit the ground.  I mumbled something about having left the gas on and scarpered.

A couple of months later as I lay on his operating table, in some faceless building in Haarlem, I knew I was in a spot of bother. The dentist was itching to start. ( he was revving the drill like a 16 year old on a Yamaha)  

I raised my head slightly and timidly suggested that I possibly might need some painkillers or a sedative before it all kicked off.

“Please” I squeaked as panic started to set in, “just give me what they give to horses.”

Even from behind the mask, I could see his disgusted look. He muttered to the assistant.  I can only guess what he said but I’d venture something along the lines of “English baby wants his mummy” wouldn’t be far off the mark. 

He then reluctantly injected my face with a blunt knitting needle.

“Can I not have a general anaesthetic?” I drooled desperately as my lips were fast becoming rubbery.  I was running out of time before I lost all capability of communication and we both knew it.

He smiled and reached for the drill once more....

My wife gave birth here in NL and they actually ignored her when she politely suggested at one point that she’d quite like some drugs.  She went stoically through the whole thing with nothing and then they offered her two paracetamols when it was all over.  Dutch courage.

So, I’ve decided that if I accidentally find another unexpected wisdom tooth popping up anytime in the future, I’m going to be strong. I’m going to raise my game and make sure that I have a good dose of Dutch courage beforehand to get me through. 🍺