‹ chat status Now I am not one to actually enjoy going to the dentist. My palms will begin to involuntarily sweat the moment I think of this white clothed hard faced person even though the guy I have now is great. It goes back in my memory to a time when dentists were probably the most hated profession of all. At least after all this time, they have cleaned up their acts to a great extent. Let's go back a few thousand years (well not quite that many) to my childhood.
I must have had a million lollipops and more than that in like-em-aid (remember that powdery pleasure) licorice and jelly beans. Yes, I was a candy eater back then folks, must different from my whole grain whole food healthy person that I am now. It took its toll on me, particularly on my teeth and on my little tummy which I developed about puberty and have fought with every since. My baby teeth...were a disaster. Of course back then they didn't have all the modern things they do now. I think my oldest son had maybe 2 cavities in his life and my younger son only 1. Anyway, about my dentist...
He looked like a mad scientist with great goggled glasses and wild grey hair -- of course I'm probably exaggerating, but that's what my 7 year old mind saw. And he was the very essence of fear to me. Just walking in his office, my knees began to knock and my little palms to sweat in anticipation of pain - because I knew there would be. That fateful day at the age of 7 when I walked in and sat down because I was having some pain in a few of my upper baby teeth, was no different from the rest. My mother swore by him, said he had a great record. I wanted to swear at him. I despised the cracker --- yes, he was one of those!!
My brother had walked me to his office, my little town of Cleveland Tennesse was so small back then that pretty much everything was in walking distance. We walked pretty much everywhere. I sat in his office, squirming, hoping for escape, but saw none coming. The burly nurse called my name her tall white capped form filling the doorway. With a menacing yet somewhat graceful gesture she motioned me into the sterile and extremely uncomfortable room where they kept the instruments of their torture. (If you ever saw "Little Shop of Horrors" You know what I mean).
I sat in the chair, wanting it to be over. He looked in my mouth and said quickly. These are all baby teeth and they need to go -- all six of them. Sensing a horrible ending to this visit, I immediately dashed for the door, but the giant nurse headed me off at the pass. She firmly placed me in the chair with my legs dangling like two limp pieces of pasta. They held me down as I fought, threatened me as I screamed and finally said they were going to tell my mom. Now that did it. I knew my mom would spank me for that one.
I gulped and held my breath, not wanting to give in, but they had me, these two sadists and I allowed them to pry open my mouth. Quickly the dentist (I hardly give him the title) swabbed a topical on my six (you heard it right) six front baby teeth and then methodically, while I sobbed pulled them out one by one. I hated him. I really wanted to be an adult at that moment and I would have knocked him out.
Years later, the moment still haunts me. I've chosen the best dentist in the world. He would never ever hurt me and he's gentle to a fault. He's a member of MENSA for crying out loud! He's not only a great dentist, but he's smart and everyone who works for him is exceptional. I did luck into it.
It took years to forgive me mother for that one. She switched dentists after that, thank heavens, but the damage had been done. I would for once and for all hate dentists. I vowed that I would never let one of those jerks hurt my kids and found them great dentists when they were growing up. It's about 45 years after the fact, but I think I'm finally getting over it --- till the next dentist visit!
posted on May 13, 2008 1:45 PM ()
I went today and got a cleaning. I was fine. Thanks, Fredo
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