On Going to the Dentist

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Write about your first visit to a dentist – or the most memorable one. Do you remember the dentist’s face, voice, the smell of the office? Do you remember your pain, fear, or a pleasant feeling of knowing that you are taking a good care of your teeth? You don’t have to write about yourself – write about your child’s visit, or about your character’s visit.  The prompt above is number three in the Rise and Write link up found HERE

On Going to the Dentist

Like many things that were routine to other families, but not so much in households where money was often tight, going to the dentist was an infrequent experience. As my dad moved through union based construction employment, and times of layoff when he then was self employed, insurance coverage probably was hit or miss. As a child, I didn't understand those kind of things. Thinking back to a particular visit when I was probably 8 or so, I went with the three other youngest girls in my family of ten kids. Sitting in the waiting room, waiting for our turn patiently,  it must have been a long time between visits. The waiting room smelled medicinal, and the chairs were sticky and hot. While not remembering each visit as an individual event, this one had to have been summer, probably August. I recall my legs sticking to the chair when I stood up. Highlights for Children magazines were on a magazine rack hanging on the wall. My sisters and I  laughed about Goofus and Gallant, and oh how dumb the comic was.

There were also different women's magazines, all with beautiful slim moms with lovely baking treats being offered to some child out of the camera view. They didn't look like my mom, tired and worn after probably working a 5:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. shift at the coffee shop, and now dragging four kids back into town. As tired and overwhelmed as I have felt on my most tired days as a working mom, I realize now that is how my mom probably felt everyday. I'm sure one by one as each of us was in with the dentist, my mom was doing a little prayer hoping that the visit was going to be nothing more than a long overdue cleaning, and not any cavity and filling work needed. Both parents had horrible teeth, but poor dental care because of money. In their elder years, both turned to dentures and probably had nicer teeth than they had ever experienced in their lifetimes. Not one of the four of us youngest children ever had a cavity. I am sure that was huge consolation to my mom who probably received a bit of a lecture each rare visit from the dentist for delaying regular check-ups.

We would leave with each of us receiving the new toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste.  The toothpaste would be hoarded to take with on a sleep over  or an overnight 4-H event. I loved getting that toothbrush. It made me feel like all other children, going to the dentist, getting my check-up.