Thursday, August 18, 2011

Dental Trauma


I have had four dentists in my lifetime. The first one I'll call Dr. Mengele, because sitting in his "barber chair" every six months and being drilled with his large, slow drill, without novacane was one of the great afflictions of my childhood. When I was fifteen, much to my mother's chagrin and embarrassment, I locked myself in Dr. Mengele's restroom and refused to come out. Six months later, I was back in the chair.

Not surprisingly, however, Dr. Mengele never found another cavity in my mouth.

I changed dentists at age 20, and my family followed. My new dentist found 24 cavities, some of them quite old (five years old, I'm guessing). I visited him every Saturday morning for weeks to get this mouthful of cavities fixed. I told my new dentist I couldn't stand to be in the chair longer than an hour, and he respected this. He had new equipment including a high speed drill and lots of novacane. He was a nice man with incredibly right wing politics that I recognized as being nuts even at age twenty. So listening to him chatter on was a kind of torture, but nothing like Dr. Mengele.

In Minnesota, Dr. Schroeder was my dentist for fifteen years. He drove a Honda Gold Wing motorcycle and was the only dentist I've ever had who read history and literary fiction and who had a sense of humor. On the whole, dentists are rather humorless, I think. Anyway, Dr. Schroeder was my idea of a perfect dentist: meticulous, pain-free, and intellectual.

For the last twenty-five years I've had a dentist in Provo who was kind and sensitive to my dental anxieties, who capped a lot of my teeth and put on veneers to make me look better than I should. He also took one of my (younger) friends to his junior prom. I thought I would never leave him.

But this year, Tom and I decided we no longer wanted to drive to Provo for our dental needs and so we questioned our friends, until we were satisfied with a recommendation.

I had an appointment this week. I'm still wearing a boot (ankle surgery), so Tom drove me. And it dawned on me: I had an appointment, but Tom didn't. Why? We always go together.

"How come you don't have an appointment?" I asked in the car.

"I have one in two weeks," he said.

"How come you didn't get an appointment the same time as me?"

"I thought you could test him out, and if you didn't like him, I'd cancel."

WHAT?

COWARD!

I told my new dentist about this treason, and he said, "Usually people send their kids in to test the dentist before they make an appointment for themselves."

COWARDS!

It turns out my new dentist went to Germany on his mission and then to BYU, but he never had Tom as a teacher, because after passing the German exam and taking the German Culture course, he never took another class. "I thought of doing a minor in German but then I found out that in the next class you had to read German POETRY!" His face caved in with disgust and horror, like he'd rather lock himself in a bathroom than read Goethe, Schiller or Rilke.

COWARD!



6 comments:

  1. I am very much overdue to visit the dentist. I guess I need to find a new one, too. Crap.

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  2. Dentists are a different breed. I used to work in dental research--because it has so much to do with writing, right? Anyway, I worked with lots of different dentists and I completely understand hiding in the bathroom and, after some of the things I've seen, I don't blame you. I'm terrified of having to move because I never want to have to find another dentist. Good luck with the new one.

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  3. When I was 3 young years old - I went to the dentist once a week for SIX MONTHS! Either my mom had tetracycline when she was pregnant with me or they gave it to me when I was young - I can't ever remember. But it destroyed my teeth.
    They were HORRIBLE. The dentist was named Jagger (first name). Isn't that traumatic for a child?!? Sounds like JAB HER when you are three!
    They gave me something to knock me out but it had the reverse effect and my mom would end up laying on me for a few hours after the appointments just to keep me restrained. She said I was like a zombie - lights were on but no one was home. LOL
    I'm terrified of the dentist. We have found a great one, thankfully, but I agree it's one of the hardest things to have to do when you move. Find a new dentist.
    Good luck with your new one - I hope he is fantastic and doesn't cause you much pain!
    : )

    P.S. Ironic -
    I ended up being a dental assistant for about 2 years when I was 21.
    LOVED it but they just don't get paid enough.

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  4. Great little essay here, Louise. You know, of course, that for years my dad drove me and my brothers across the Nevada desert so his old football-playing buddy could do our teeth for free on a Sunday afternoon. I had no idea that you could spit into a sink with running water until after I stopped going to San Francisco to get my teeth done.

    I went to the Junior Prom with your old dentist btw.

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  5. Did you know dentists have the highest suicide rate? Did you know that they suffer depression the most? Did you know that few work more than four weeks in Alberta? And that smile of yours is very charming.

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  6. Thanks for the laugh-now you have to tell us, did you like this new dentist? Did Tom keep his appt?

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