My Dad, twice wounded, but kept fighting and awarded the Bronze Star in W.W. II, was amazingly impervious to physical pain. He never had Novocaine during dental work. As a kid, when I first started to have cavities drilled, about age 9, I wanted to emulate the Old Man. So until I reached 16 and discovered that I had my own "agency," I refused when the dentist asked, "Do you want Novocaine?"
This was in the 1950s when there were no high speed drills to greatly reduce the pain. Rather my dentists during those years drilled away with equipment that never whined like a Formula One engine, but ground away like an old tree stump remover. The pain was exquisite, radiating from my vibrating jaw via my trigeminal nerve through every part of my body, right down to my tightly clenched toes.
It seemed drilling a single cavity took hours. But when it was done and the last batch of amalgam pressed into what I imagined to be a vast crevasse, I stumbled to my feet as a wave of pleasure swept over me. I had survived another brush with death, the decay exorcised in my self-imposed ritual.
Some years later when all those old fillings were failing, and I began a long course of repairs, I signed on with one of my Philly neighbors, John Richter, who had just opened a new practice near my law office. He had the best high speed water cooled drills, and thanks to them, John's skill, and a hefty injection of his best pain killer, I never felt a thing. Procedures flew by like happy dreams.
It seems "modern dentistry" had also got a hold on Dad. One day when he was in his seventies, my mother revealed that for years he had been asking for Novocaine.
Yes, I am familiar with finding out something from your parents that you didn't know but thought you did many years later. In my case it was the revelation that their bedroom had an air conditioner while my own and my brother's did not.
Yes, the candy bribe for me was from my pediatrician. I later assumed that he had some kind of arrangement with the dentist. Kids rarely get cavities anymore unless their parents are negligent or anti fluoride wackos.
My Dad, twice wounded, but kept fighting and awarded the Bronze Star in W.W. II, was amazingly impervious to physical pain. He never had Novocaine during dental work. As a kid, when I first started to have cavities drilled, about age 9, I wanted to emulate the Old Man. So until I reached 16 and discovered that I had my own "agency," I refused when the dentist asked, "Do you want Novocaine?"
This was in the 1950s when there were no high speed drills to greatly reduce the pain. Rather my dentists during those years drilled away with equipment that never whined like a Formula One engine, but ground away like an old tree stump remover. The pain was exquisite, radiating from my vibrating jaw via my trigeminal nerve through every part of my body, right down to my tightly clenched toes.
It seemed drilling a single cavity took hours. But when it was done and the last batch of amalgam pressed into what I imagined to be a vast crevasse, I stumbled to my feet as a wave of pleasure swept over me. I had survived another brush with death, the decay exorcised in my self-imposed ritual.
Some years later when all those old fillings were failing, and I began a long course of repairs, I signed on with one of my Philly neighbors, John Richter, who had just opened a new practice near my law office. He had the best high speed water cooled drills, and thanks to them, John's skill, and a hefty injection of his best pain killer, I never felt a thing. Procedures flew by like happy dreams.
It seems "modern dentistry" had also got a hold on Dad. One day when he was in his seventies, my mother revealed that for years he had been asking for Novocaine.
Yes, I am familiar with finding out something from your parents that you didn't know but thought you did many years later. In my case it was the revelation that their bedroom had an air conditioner while my own and my brother's did not.
yes, no novocaine in those days.
As a result, even though I haven't felt much pain in a dentist's chair in many decades, my body still tenses up when I hear the sound of the drill.
I remember we were given candy after a visit to the dentist; to make sure that he got repeat business?
Yes, the candy bribe for me was from my pediatrician. I later assumed that he had some kind of arrangement with the dentist. Kids rarely get cavities anymore unless their parents are negligent or anti fluoride wackos.