Diamond Valley and Carlyle
The television on the ceiling of the dentist’s office wasn’t turned on this morning, so I had to entertain myself while I got my teeth cleaned. The technician did her best to engage me, but it is difficult to converse when you have picks, shovels, and a hydro-vac in your mouth. I turned my thoughts inward for most of the hour and a half.
The result is an “up hill, both ways” story, because that is what we old guys do.
As I lay in the chair, I compared my experience today with my first visit to the dentist – Dr. Hewitt, Carlyle, Saskatchewan, in 1965.
When I started going to the dentist, there were no appointment reminders by text, no receptionist, no cheerful greeting, no dental assistant, no consultation, no comfy chair, no TV on the ceiling, no preventative cleaning, no x-ray, no chair-side calming manner, no freezing for fillings, no privacy, no caps, no implants, no tooth whitening, no questions about where I went on my most recent vacation, no dental plan, and no goodie bag with dental swag on departure.
What we got in 1965 was an hour of misery as Doctor Hewitt ground decayed matter out of teeth, without freezing.
That was on a good day, if the problem was more acute, the surly dentist would extract the affected tooth using appliances that terrify me to this day.
Dentists had two types of drilling mechanisms to choose from in the 1960s, belt-driven or pneumatic. The one Dr Hewitt fixed my teeth with sounded like Dad’s air wrench, the one he used to remove bolts from cultivator shanks on the farm.
Dr. Hewitt’s drill and Dad’s impact wrench had a lot in common, they were both air-driven and not too delicate.
A trip to Dr Hewitt’s office wasn’t something you forget. Brother Brad described his visits to the dentist this way:
“Oh yes, that man put the fear of God in me for a lot of years. I remember getting six or eight fillings with no freezing. The man hated kids.”
While I was reclining in the dentist’s chair today, a young boy was getting a filling in the next cubicle. I couldn’t help but compare his experience with mine in 1965.
First of all, I never had Dental Assistant Carmen. (I usually change the names of people in my stories, but I won’t for DA Carmen, she is amazing). Carmen kept the boy next door occupied, apprised him of what was happening in his mouth, and told him what would occur next. She distracted the patient, complimented him, and assured him regularly that they were “just about done”.
Throughout the procedure, the young patient seemed to be having a positive experience. He was chatty when he could be, he seemed relaxed, even giddy at times. The boy grunted once or twice as the drill did its thing, but the dentist’s gentle touch and Carmen’s soothing words minimized his discomfort.
The young patient was at the counter with his mom when I was leaving. I complimented him on his bravery and asked if he thought I deserved ice-cream too, as his mother was promising him. He wasn’t sure about that but seemed happy with his day at the dentist, and not at all distraught at the prospect of another visit.
I paid for my procedure (the most painful aspect of the day) and scheduled my next appointment.
I might treat myself to an ice-cream later. I don’t remember getting one after a session with Dr Hewitt.
A trip to the dentist in 1965 was a miserable occasion, followed by …
… no Ice-Cream.
There is an upside to having your teeth filled without freezing, you learn the art of distraction.
While I was sitting in the dentist’s chair today listening to elevator music, I amused myself by trying to remember if I had ever heard a song about dentistry. I wracked my brain as the cleaning was underway, but couldn’t think of one.
Later, I consulted Apple Music. There are several children’s songs preparing them for a visit to the dentist, but I only found one serious song about a dentist, a blues number by Dinah Washington entitled – Long John Blues
In the song, Washington describes a dentist named Long John, who fills her “cavity”.
“You thrill me when you drill me, and I need you very much.” …
“Say, I hope I keep on aching, so I can see you every day”.
On closer inspection, the song might not be entirely about dentistry.
Long John Blues – Dinah Washington
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P. Miller
How things change.
My mom took me to Regina. In the Cornwall practice I think.
It was only ten years later and I got the laughing gas. Lots of it!
Russ Paton
Not much to laugh about….
GG
Seems to me you had it easy, at least your guy had power tools. The pinnacle of technical enlightenment compared to late 50s/early 60s British dentistry.