Last night we watched Intolerable Cruelty yet again. It’s a good film if you haven’t seen it. In it George Clooney plays a divorce attorney. His smile (and the good teeth he exposes in the smiling) are something that is hard to forget. It also gave me the prompt for this months Times Past. I have written a fictional dental piece (Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3) but dentists are something that still make me shudder when I think of the dentist despite knowing that times have changed. I am anticipating that the further back in generations we go the more we will shudder with the newer generations not knowing that a trip to the dentist should fill you with fear. I am also anticipating that geographical location will make a difference to our experiences. I am looking forward to hearing your dental tales either in the comments or in a separate post. For guidelines but all you have to do is advise of your location at the time of the experience (country city or rural) and what generation you belong to.
Silent Generation Australia city
In my mother’s day only a few families could afford to go to the dentist and it was avoided where possible. Holes went untreated and teeth blackened and died. There was definitely no orthodontics. People held on until they were in their late teens, early twenties and then had the lot removed (healthy as well as rotten teeth), replacing them with the false teeth that were then, quite fashionable.
Baby Boomer Australia country
We had quite a healthy diet as children and had less fillings than were normal when I was a child. We hated going to the dentist even though we rarely needed anything done. One of our early appointments must have required a filling and I can still hear the high pitch whirring of the electric drill and set up every visit afterwards to be filled with fear. It did make us fairly consistent with our teeth cleaning. When I was around eight the dentist informed my parents that my teeth were too big for my mouth. Something had to be done. I wasn’t privvy to the alternative forms of treatment that could be performed and a decision was made that eight teeth would be removed to make room for the new ones to come through, giving me a bite that would be straight. At the time I would have been happy to have crooked teeth, they would have given me personality. Instead every few week I’d be dragged to the dentist. The needles would come out and pushed into my gums, separating flesh from bone and gristle. I would need holding down as I would kick out, my mother threatening punishment if I didn’t sit still. Then with my jaw prised wide apart the drill would loosen the tooth and the pliers would grip it, the dentist pulling the tooth leaving a bloody socket which my tongue then had to continually explore. I grew to hate the dentist, a feeling I have not quite overcome today despite finding that the only pain the dentist causes now is the hole he leaves in my pocket.
Baby Boomer Australia city
Baby Boomer USA
Looking forward to hearing about your dental experiences.