It seems like I was born scared of the dentist.. from my very earliest childhood memories, and family stories, I have been stubbornly wary of them.
My mother used to laugh about my first trip to the dentist, a Dr Moreton, telling everyone that when she took me in for my first visit at age four years.. I was all dressed up in a lil pale blue frilly dress, my honey blonde hair hanging in soft ringlets to my shoulders, large blueish grey eyes, looking so sweet.. then I stubbornly point blank refused to open my mouth for him, regardless of mum's threats. *laughs*
He was obviously a very wise and experienced dentist though, and someone used to children.. I still remember him picking me up and walking me outside to the little porch at the back of his surgery. It was located in what is now known as prime real estate in my city, with views over the central business district in one direction, and mountain views in the other.
He pointed out to the mountains and said to me something like.. "aren't they pretty? aaawwwwww" to which i eagerly opened my lil mouth and echoed his sentiment of "aaawwwww" .. of course .. he quickly stuck his fingers in my mouth, and had a good look... *laughs hard* A very wiley and worthy adversary :D
Unfortunately he had retired by the time I was about eight years old and needing a molar removed, so my mother took me to another dentist. She walked me up this huge flight of stairs, into this pokey little room which I still remember as being stark white and filled with scarey equipment. My instincts were alert from the word go. The dentist got me to sit on a chair, and then he put some liquid onto a piece of cloth, and put it into this large black cushioned face mask contraption and told me to breathe in deeply.
Well, as we have already established, even at such a young age, I was nothing if not stubborn. And with all my senses screaming danger there was no way I was about to let my guard down around this man. So he sat there, holding the mask patiently to my face, I sat there wide eyed, staring at him.. and we sat.. and we sat...
Then he took it off and turned to put some more liquid on the cloth.. and not one to miss an opportunity when it presents itself, I jumped up off that chair, ran out the door and down those steps and into the back seat of my mother's car before either of them realised what was happening. *chuckles*.. luckily in those days people were not in the habit of locking their cars. By the time mum got to me, I was curled up tearfully on the back seat determined there was no way I was going back to that scarey place to smell that awful stuff.
When my mother demanded to know what I thought I was doing, I told her honestly.. "I am tired, I want to go home and sleep"... to which she screeched.. "You're suppposed to be tired!!!!"
*laughssss*
The dentist, to his credit, realised that perhaps I needed someone with more experience dealing with younger patients and made his recommendation to my mother, who promptly arranged an appointment for the following week.
This surgery was much less scarey, and I remember the hugest lolly jar I had ever seen filled with lollipops on the counter. Incentives for good boys and girls. The dentist suggested my mother should leave and return in about an hour, not a good move, even at that age I was very aware of the need to protect myself. So without my mother there I was doubly vigilant.
He took me into his surgery, with he and his dental nurse chatting to me to relax me.. it was all going fairly well, until he made a fatal mistake. He asked me if I wanted a needle or just wanted my tooth pulled without a needle. *rolls my eyes* of course I said no! Pain was not my thing, and needles were not my friends. So he proceed to actually try to pull this tooth without any type of gas, or ether, or injections! In retrospect, I think he was trying to be clever and make me realise how much it would hurt, and therefore have me actually request the injection.
*laughs* He didn't count on my stubborn streak. I kicked and screamed and punched so violently. He stopped and suggested I have the needle.. I told him no .. so he tried again, even the neighbour next door to the surgery who was mowing heard the commotion and came in trying to help hold me down to no avail.. in the end they gave up. My mother returned to find me sitting in the waiting room, sobbing and sucking lollipops to try to calm me.
The good news was that he then referred me to a dental group that was wonderful.. and ironically, partly owned by the son of the first dentist I had ever seen.. Dr Moreton.
I continued to attend that dental practice up until my early thirties, every time I needed work done it was a simple case of someone holding my hand while they inserted a small canula to the back of my hand, and put me to sleep for the entire procedure.
Over the years I have learnt to overcome my fears, and found dentists that I trusted enough to give me the standard oral injections.. but now thanks to the advent of modern technology even those fleeting moments of panic prior to the novocaine are no longer part of my dental experience. Laser dentistry!! Gotta love it!! I have managed to undergo large fillings and root canal treatment with laser dentistry and no pain killers at all. Its my lil miracle.
Of course, my fear of these things never stood in my way of practicality towards others and their dental needs.
I remember when my younger sister was six and had a very wobbly tooth, I duly took notes during a Shirley Temple movie and then took her downstairs, tied a piece of cotton around the offending tooth, and the other end to the door knob, then had the boy from across the road hold my sister in place while I slammed the door.. *laughsss* .. it was nicely done! We ran upstairs all excited to show my mother, only to have my eldest sister break out in tears.. lol.. it was her wedding the following week and she'd been hoping and hoping that my sister's tooth would stay in for the wedding photos... *laughs*
Ain't life funny ??
