Raging Dentistry

 

 

            Whenever someone roams nostalgically into “the good old days”, a friend of mine always interrupts saying, “I have two words for you: modern dentistry.” It works every time. Their tongue darts quickly over their teeth, their lips pucker as their cheeks draw thoughtfully between their molars and they shut up; usually with a knowing chuckle saying, “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

            You don’t have to go back very many years to reach a time when dentistry was a lot more painful and much less successful than it is today. When I was eight or nine years old in the mid 1950s, my family went to Dr. Holmes in Payette. The 12 mile drive from Weiser was worth it because Dr. Holmes had been my mother’s dentist, my grandparent’s dentist and, for all I know, my great grandparent’s dentist.

            He was old, officially retired and therefore cheap. My father would later inform me that he didn’t care for dentistry and only did it because it paid considerably more than his first love, cabinet making.

            Dr. Holmes’s workshop in a converted garage behind his Center Ave. home was a sight to behold with every piece of modern woodworking equipment the 1950s had to offer. Think Norm Abrams’s New Yankee Woodshop fifty years earlier.

 His dentist shop above my uncle Clyde’s Thurston’s Drug Store on Main Street was a testament to nostalgia. His drill was electric, but, for all I know, may have dated from Edison’s time. It ground slowly and surely into my molars in search of nerve ends that would set me screaming and jerking in near hysterics. You see, Dr. Holmes believed pain medication was for sissies. He didn’t stock any, never had, never would.

I was a sissy and didn’t care who knew it.  Nothing aggravated Dr. Holmes more and, since he was always aggravated to begin with, my screaming fits had him constantly grumbling about my unmanliness. “Your little sister was here this morning and she didn’t make any fuss; now here you are acting like a little girl. Maybe you should be wearing the dress. Now stop this and get your mouth open so we can get this done,” he would say in his grumpy, soft voice.

I knew my little sister better than Dr. Holmes did and he was either lying or managed to fill her tooth without hitting a nerve. Not only would she have screamed, she would have called him a few not so choice names that she had picked up from her former best friend’s teenaged brothers.

Dr. Holmes mercifully died before I’d had more than a couple of fillings and we started going to Dr. Westberg in Weiser. He used a brand new, super high speed drill and always filled up your gums,   teeth and much of your face with pain medication. In fact, he insisted on it. Going to the dentist was not a good time, of course, but you didn’t need to hide in the woods to avoid it.

 

Comments

[Orthodontist Fort Collins]

Thanks for sharing your experience. I am sure many learned from your dental experience.

[Gary Neal]

That is really interesting that Dr Triguiero doesn't prescribe pain killers. I'd be interested to try that method out and then compare it to a dentist that used pain killers. Old school dentistry indeed!

[Lashon Condray]

Hmm, dentists have different techniques and perceptions on how to do each procedure. But of course, all of these require scientific bases and recommendations. It's pretty surprising that he does not prescribe pain killers. Old school dentistry, indeed!