My family was cursed with genes that produced poor, weak teeth. In spite of brushing and flossing every day, our teeth were and are filled with fillings and crowns and, later, implants with crowns and bridges.
On the other hand, my wife and her family were fortunate to have great teeth. She said her brothers rarely brushed their teeth and yet they NEVER got cavities. My wife did brush every day and did not have her first cavity until she was 26 years old.
As a kid, I hated going to the dentist. Our dentist was a friend of my parents and he was grumpy and mean. Just the thought of him and his shots and his drilling terrified me.
Dr. M. didn’t use an assistant so as he drilled, all the ground-up enamel and previous fillings flew around inside my mouth. And the dust and a smell like burning flesh nearly made me sick. When I was sufficiently gagging, he would stop and spray some water in my mouth.
“Turn your head and spit.”
So, with a numb mouth and a thick tongue, I would try to swish and then spit the water and the debris into the white, porcelain bowl next to my head that was up too high for a child. With its swirling water, it reminded me of a flushing toilet. With my numb tongue, my best swishing and spitting could only remove about 75% of the gunk from my mouth and some of the spit always dribbled down my chin. For the next 24 hours, I would be removing leftover bits and pieces from his handiwork.
Once during a checkup, when he found several cavities, he said, “If you don’t start brushing and flossing better, I’m not going to use Novocain before drilling.”
Wow! Nice threat to make to a kid who is already terrified at the thought of sitting in your hard, plastic dental chair.
Another time he said I was producing too much saliva, as if I could somehow control that. He was bothered that he had to stop drilling to suction out my saliva that was getting in the way of his drilling. After several interruptions, he threatened that if I kept it up, he would put a rubber dam in my mouth. I had no clue at the time what a rubber dam was, but it didn't sound good. And I had no idea how I was supposed to stop salivating.
Also, Dr. M. did NOT have a dental hygienist to give a nice cleaning every six months like normal dentists provide.
When I was 22 years old, I had my own dental insurance and went to a dentist suggested by a friend. Instead of a hard, plastic, very uncomfortable upright dental chair, the dentist had a very soft chair that reclined to a nearly flat position that was very comfortable. And he had a very cute little assistant who was barely 18 years old. After the checkup showed I had a couple of cavities that needed fillings, cute little assistant asked if I wanted laughing gas. I asked what laughing gas was and she explained that it would make me a little loopy to take the edge off of the shots and the drilling.
Are you kidding me? You can make me high so I don’t even care about the shots and the drilling in my mouth? Bring it on, baby!!
She also asked me if I wanted headphones and my choice of music so I wouldn’t even hear the drilling. You mean, mentally I can be in a happy place in the other room while you take care of my dental work in this room. Duh! Sign me up!!
So, she hooked me up to the nitrous oxide and the music and a few minutes later I left the building and apparently, while I was gone, the dentist drilled and filled and polished.
And while I was mentally out of the office, the pretty young lady stayed at my side and sprayed water on the teeth and suctioned everything off as the dentist drilled so there was no dust in the air and there was no smell like burning flesh.
Perhaps an hour later, although it could have been days since I had no concept of time while I was enjoying the nitrous oxide, I found myself looking up into the eyes of the cute little assistant who asked how I was feeling.
“Great! When is the dentist going to start?”
“Oh, silly. He’s already done. I just have you breathing oxygen to clear out the laughing gas.”
“Wow! Amazing! That was great."
"Well, I'm glad it went well for you. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"
"Yeah, could you give me a nice, warm enema?”
“Of course, silly. Just roll onto your side for me and lower your pants and underwear so I have easy access to your bottom. Oh, wow, how cute is that. Now, try to relax. I’m going to insert my lubricated finger into your bum now. I hope you don’t mind. It will make it easier to insert the nozzle.”
“I have a real fear about nozzles being painful and hard to insert so could you keep massaging back there for, I don’t know, maybe 20 minutes, so I can really relax?”
“Of course, silly. Why do you think I’m here?”
Wait. Sorry. Scratch the enema part. That was part of the nitrous-oxide high.
I was surprised, amazed, astonished, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, stunned, and gob smacked that the entire dental experience was pleasant and pain-free compared to the dozens of terrifying experiences in the dental chair during my childhood.
(Yeah, I know that surprised, amazed, astonished, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, stunned, and gob smacked are pretty much the same thing but I wanted to really emphasize how I felt).