Counterattack! An RDH exclusive by Joanne Iannone Sheehan, RDH

The surprise attack on our nation September 11th left many of us with deep rooted anger and frustration. How could this have happened? How can we keep it from happening again? This present administration has made it clear that it will not rest until the scourge of terrorism is routed out and destroyed. They're working on it. My husband, a full colonel in the U.S. Army, is busy with his meetings and briefings like so many others in the military. They're working on it. Winnie Furnari, RDH, BS, and other hygienists in New York have helped to identify victims of the WTC through forensics. With over six thousand missing, it seems like a never ending job. But they're working on it.

The President has asked us to try to resume life as we knew it, to bring some form of normality to our personal lives. But those of us who have no specific mission, no way to personally effect a change for the better, are left with a feeling of helplessness which can lead quickly to stress and depression. This needs to be dealt with by actually DOING something. I've found that keeping active is a good deterrent for depression and an outlet for stress.

During the Gulf War, I served as the president of the family support group for an air defense battalion�based at Ft. Bragg. It kept me busy, and I enjoyed helping families cope with the separation and uncertainty of wartime. But my duties added stress to an already tense situation. To relieve the urge to let out a long, loud scream, I decided to build a swingset for my two children. I studied the neighbor's swingset and calculated the quantity of wood I would need, buying massive pieces of lumber, some measuring 4'X 4'X 16'. I cut these myself using a neighbor's circular saw. ( I measure 5' 2" on a good day and weighed 105 back then.) My PVC lawn furniture served as a saw horse. (Don't try this at home!) I made�a platform on each of the A frames for my kids to play on, securing a 15' pipe to hang the swings from. I built it totally alone. It was massive! The A frames and platforms were even collapsible for easy transfer to our next duty station. (That swingset lasted 9 years and two transfers) And yes, some would say it was ugly as sin. But all the sawing and nailing and measuring and planning had kept my mind off the CNN reports of impending doom and the thought of my husband in the "Mother of All Wars." It was what I needed to keep my sanity and let out that stress so unhealthy for the body, soul, and spirit.

Since the military has started gearing up again, I felt that old familiar tension building. I needed to do something physical, something big, something that would wear me out with a 'satisfied tired' feeling. I noticed that my driveway and three walkways around my house had turned absolutely black with mildew in the humid Alabama summer, especially the places in the shade. So I did a bit of shopping, then on impulse stopped at my favorite home improvement store and rented a pressure washer. I would "effect change" on this unwelcome lifeform that was invading�my home territory. With three pounds of crab salad from Wally World waiting in my car, I hurried the clerk through the operating instructions and vowed to bring the washer back unscathed. ( I always ask, "How can I break this machine?" Then I make sure I DON'T do whatever he says.)

I learned one thing in my attempt to unleash my pressurized self on the discolored cement. There is nothing more determined or obsessed than a hygienist with a pressure washer and yards upon yards of blackened surface area. Think of�the power of an air polisher times 1,000! Once I got the machine assembled and started, I was a force to be reckoned with! My brick porch was again red and white! My walkway was like new! I was changing something for the better and it felt so good! My husband came home for lunch and I begrudgingly turned the machine off...but forgot to flick the gas switch. When he returned to work, I hurried back outside to blast away more evil, only to find I had flooded the machine. My impatience kept me from leaving it alone long enough to 'unflood'. It was 3 hours later, after (and because) I had to pick up my son from school, that the machine would start again. I finished the back and started on the front walkway, trying to make up for lost time. I was on a 24 hour rental agreement and night was coming.

I starting noticing things while I worked, things only a hygienist would notice. The squares in my walkway started to look like a line of lower anteriors, linguals of course, covered in thick, black tobacco stain. I made sure I passed the wand over the interproximals between the cement slabs. But targeting the incisal edges and gumline also caught the grass and red Alabama clay, splashing it everywhere.�The hose attached to the wand was�very heavy,�so ergonomically incorrect! My wrist was killing me and I had to constantly change hand positions to avoid RSIs. I used the left to right movement and then cross-hatched for maximum effectiveness. I noticed a fire ant nest built high in my front garden. Instinctively, I passed the wand with 2200 psi of water pressure over this mound of small, but vicious, insects. They emerged from their clay fortress, scurrying everywhere, their mound collapsing a bit. But even though I was bitten by one of these ants two weeks prior and the spot still itched, I couldn't bring myself to pass the wand over them again. The scene reminded me of the tragedy I had witnessed on TV. I finished the front walkway and headed for the driveway which looked to be a major undertaking. If the walkway was the lower anteriors, the huge slabs in the driveway were #8 and #9. The sun was already starting to retreat.

By the time my husband got home for dinner, I was in a cleaning frenzy, racing the clock and forsaking all else. I opted for ordering pizza instead of cooking dinner. I felt a burning need to finish the job, to make it right, a need for closure. But my husband wanted me to stop. My son shouted questions concerning dinner over the roar of the machine. My family was really saying, "We need you now. You will live to fight another day. You can battle the mildew again tomorrow." Night fell on an unfinished battle. The war was called due to darkness.

I started up again at 9:00 the next morning and that urgency returned. I was on a mission to eradicate all that was not good and pure and desirable. I even told a close friend who called from Virginia that I'd call her back. Couldn't stop working. I guess I had forgotten about that family support group 11 years ago and how important it was to lift each other up. I was ashamed to find out later that day that she had received bad news about both her son and her health and really needed a friend to talk to right then. But even working non-stop,�the machine that was due back at the store at 10:20 that morning wasn't returned till 3:00 P.M. I finally had to put it down because of a scheduled social engagement. (And at that barbecue, I learned the host had spent all day pressure washing his patio. We both had sore muscles but felt we had accomplished something.)�Still, I had a lingering ache in my heart for putting my friend off like that.

No one knows exactly what will happen over the next few years. But I know this. We're going to see two kinds of people; active people who are releasing stress and depressed people who need to be comforted and ministered to. It is important for us to translate the pressure in our lives to active participation in effecting change for the better. Unload the stress in positive ways. But there is a mission for us too. Our mission is to be there for those who need us, to be a friend, there to listen, console and share. If we can help others as well as ourselves through this time, we will win our own war against terrorism and it's evil ways. And as caring as hygienists are, that shouldn't be too hard.