The Dentist

I was just a few months out of the hospital in those days, after major surgery; I believe it was April 1948. It was Spring and I had a toothache. Even at four years old Dad suggested I be taken to the dentist to have it checked out. So he took me in his 1939 Nash and we entered the dentist's office. When my turn came I was seated in the chair and the dentist made preparations to examine my teeth. I still had my deciduous teeth and I don't remember what he wanted to do, or what he said he would do, but I became terrified with what he was doing. I was sure he was going to put me to sleep, and he probably was. But he never got that far. Hell would have to freeze over before I was going to go through it again, although I didn't consciously remember the episodes of the months before when I was in the hospital.

I put up a panic-stricken fight heard throughout the building, if not the whole neighborhood, and the dentist gave up. He told Dad to take me home--he wasn't able to do anything. At home I was still musing about the incident, especially when Dad berated me for not allowing the dentist to do what he had to do. "You're four years old and you're just a big baby!" he stormed. And I remember thinking to myself, "Yes, I guess I am a big baby" and I didn't feel guilty about it. I don't remember anything about what happened to my toothache, but I know I never went back to that dentist.

Years later, when I lived in New Jersey, I had a kinder disposition toward dentists. I was an adult this time, and this particular dentist checked my teeth every several months. He had the habit of asking questions when you had your mouth wide open. It happened every time. I'm sure it was intentional.

Then one day I had a tooth problem and got a dentist appointment. I wrote up questions and answers on 3x5 cards and put them in my shirt pocket. It was about the time when two of my sisters got married in a double wedding and I knew he would ask about them, so I also wrote down the names of their spouses. I wrote answers to other questions I thought he would ask. There were at least a half dozen cards in my pocket. I also wrote down the location of the tooth problem I had and put it on top. I was ready to sabotage his efforts.

As I sat in the chair I explained to him where the problem was, and after some small talk he told me to open my mouth. He took his mirror and looked all around inside and said, "Hmm, upper left, I don't see anything." I whipped out my cards and handed him the first one--"lower right." His expression didn't change perceptibly but he said, "Let me see those cards," and he took them out of my hand and looked through them, reading each one. I guess he had all his questions answered--he didn't say much after that.

One more scary story: This time I was in Ohio. I had had a few kidney surgeries and lithotripsies because of kidney stones so I was prepared for anything. I went to the dentist and he had to drill out an infected tooth. I told him I didn't want novacaine. I felt I could handle it. I had been in hospital and withstood a lot of excruciating situations so I felt rather invincible. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm sure," I replied. He started drilling...and drilling... I gripped the chair handles and took it stoicly. Finally he stopped, "I don't believe it," he told his assistants, "I'm hitting a nerve and he's not even flinching." Well, I had tears in my eyes and they almost had to pry my hands off the arm rests but it wasn't as bad as what I had experienced a few times in hospital. And I'm not a masochist.

The younger assistant asked incredibly, "Are you from the CIA?"

I replied jokingly, "Just don't mention it to anybody." They looked at each other. You could have heard a pin drop. She had to have taken me seriously because she reacted with a guilty look on her face. She treated me almost like royalty on my way out of the office. I felt rather bad that I didn't clarify the humor. Was she that naive?

Today I don't mind dentists. Techniques have improved and it's not as threatening as it seemed to be years ago.