First off, daily dental care. My earliest memories are of two products. The first was regularly advertised on television and what my family used: Ipana.
The other was in the medicine cabinet at Granny and Pap-pap’s house. My grandfather used it all the time: tooth powder.
I tried this stuff once — and once was enough. Gritty and icky. If given the choice between this and toothpaste, it would be the toothpaste every time.
However, even the Ipana had a problem: it was formulated before fluoridated toothpaste was widely available. In 1960 Crest started its major advertising push about how it could reduce cavities.
Yep, when that “Look Ma, no cavities” campaign started, that became our weapon to fight tooth decay.
Of course, by then it was too late for me. I had a mouth full of cavities and had to have them taken care of.
I’m not sure why, but Gammy, my dad’s mother, was usually my escort to the dentist. Our appointments took place on Saturday mornings, and we would drive off to Hershey to sit in Dr. Lucas’s waiting room. This room wasn’t as large as Old Doc’s, but it was well-stocked with Highlights magazines.
The waiting room was ok, if not my favorite place to spend a Saturday morning. But all good things must come to an end. The door would open and he’d call me into the inner sanctum, where I’d be placed in the chair.
I’ve sen advertisements for dentists who offer “pain-free dentistry” and “dental care without fear.” Not Dr. Lucas. He was of the “open wide, be quiet, and it’ll be over with soon” school. He’s squirt and drill and fill and instruct me to spit. I tried to comply because I really couldn’t wait to get out of that chair. And when he was done, he’d call Gammy in to tell her how it had gone — all smiles and sweet words for her.
It wasn’t until fifth or sixth grade that I realized that there were better types of dental care. I found out about this from my classmates. For one thing, my friends didn’t give up Saturday mornings to visit the dentist: they took off school to go! All of this time I had been cheated of the opportunity to leave school during the day.
The other realization took a little longer to sink in. My friends would return from the dentist saying that they couldn’t talk because (and this was mumbled, probably the reason that it took so long for me to understand waht was happening), “My mouth is still numb from the novocaine.” Novocaine? I’d never heard of it. Imagine my shock when I realized that instead of “Open wide and be quiet,” I could have had drugs to numb my mouth as he did my dental work.
Hopefully dental care has changed since then. Instead of the metallic chairs there are seats that are more lounger-like. Little children are introduced to dentists who laugh and count their teeth. And parents accompany the child, sitting nearby to know what’s going on and to soothe the child’s fears.
The only drill and fill children should really know is this one:
I feel for you, and experienced not dissimilar oral intrusions. We had the Ipana toothpaste add on in Tasmania (Australia) as well, although we used Colgate at our home, ha ha. I was taken (during school hours) to a Dental School, (in the 60s - 70s) where I am sure the nurses took delight in finding the most microcosmic of holes so students could practice their trade. Almost every one of my back teeth has a grey filling, but they drew the line at disfiguring childrens front teeth. Bless 'em! Also no pain options. Watching that rubber belt turn away as the drill burned into perfectly good enamel was a terror I still try to avoid today. And NO! dentists, despite having options, are still often painful, I hope you fare better in the States. Thanks for sharing. And 'hello' to all the staff of the Newtown Dental clinic during that period, I am sure you did not think you were intentionally creating nightmares for the children in your care.
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