If you haven’t figured it out, I was in the Army at one time. I may have mentioned it 30 or 40 times. Also, if you know, the Army has a sense of humor. For example, they decided that after I completed Basic Training, I should be sent to the Army’s big medical facility in San Antonio, Texas and be trained as a medic, then dental assistant. When they informed me of that assignment after graduating Basic Training, I couldn’t stop laughing. If you ever saw my smile, you would understand why…and you have never seen my smile. I keep my lips clenched tighter than George Washington hiding his wooden teeth.
It started when I was a child with my fear of the dentist. Where did I get the fear of a dentist? From the first dentist I went to. This guy found a small cavity (Caries is what professionals refer to it as–this is me showing off my dental assistant knowledge). He told my mom that he would put in the filling and he would not be using any Novocaine because a young boy won’t feel much pain. He picked up his drill, with a bit that looked like it was designed for drilling for oil, and started digging into the offending tooth. No pain, my ass (I’m pretty sure those were the exact words I used when he started drilling, even as a 10 year old.)! I had never felt such pain. It was so bad, I started giving up trade secrets for Apple’s iPhone, and it hadn’t been invented yet. I think the dentist’s name was Dr. Samsung.
After that experience, it was my goal in life to avoid dentists at all cost. No matter how bad my teeth felt, I learned to deal with it, that was until I had to go through my draft physical. Did you know they actually check your teeth, kind of like they do before buying a horse.
That is what makes me being assigned to dental assistant school seem so funny. Wouldn’t they want someone who actually cared about their dental health? I was starting to believe this was my punishment for not taking care of my choppers like I should have. Then I realized I was drafted into the Army during the VietNam war and I was probably being punished for something much bigger. Was it for cutting a few days in college? The professor didn’t even know who I was and gave me an “A” anyway. Still carrying the guilt.
I was shipped to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas to begin my training. The base is the home of Brooks Medical Center, one of the major military hospitals in the country. It was also the place they brought President Lyndon Johnson every time his heart skipped a beat. That usually meant the whole base was put on lock down during his stay. Really put a damper on going out for the weekend.
Before becoming a dental assistant, I first had to become a medic. Classes for that consisted of a lot of gory films about everything from trench foot to traumatic amputations and how to treat them. I learned about compression bandages, heaving chest wounds, and sulfa. Sulfa was a medication you sprinkled on terrible wounds. Why, I don’t know. Considering how big the massive holes were, I don’t think this yellow powder was going to help. I don’t think they use it anymore. I did learn how to do a tracheotomy using a pen barrel. I have no idea why I have retained that but I’m ready with a pen in case anyone needs one. Anyone?
After not failing that course (really builds confidence, doesn’t it) I moved on to Dental Assistant school. The big benefit of moving on to this course was, there were women in the class. There were none in my medic course and women in class, and the lack of shock films made it a little easier to show up for school each morning.
My first lesson in this course was, noticing peoples’ teeth when I first meet them. They were right and it is absolutely scary. I saw so many people who should be following George Washington’s lead and never smile.
I spent six weeks being drilled in dental terminology and techniques. I learned to do x-rays, how to sterilize dental tools, what materials were used and how to mix them, and dental hygiene. Yes, I was going to be responsible to teach patients how to maintain a happy and healthy smile. I would have laughed but I was afraid I might show my scummy teeth. Does the word irony come to mind?
It turned out I had a knack for being a dental assistant and during my career in the Army was encouraged by more than one doctor to pursue a career as a dentist. Again I let out a clenched mouth guffaw.
I also became a guinea pig for the ranking dentist in the clinic, whenever one of his patients didn’t show up. If his chair was empty, he ordered me into it (Yes, ordered. I did not volunteer.) and he would try to fix my mouth. I had all kinds of fillings and crowns put in and my wisdom teeth removed. He had nothing to do, so he decided to remove them all at one time under local anesthetic. Normal procedure would have been to knock the patient out but he had another patient in an hour, so after a couple of shots of lidocaine, he went digging. (By the way, lidocaine is what dentists really use to numb teeth. Another snippet of my dental knowledge. Are you impressed yet?)
The one benefit of this extreme oral surgery was being sent home to my barracks with a bottle of painkillers and told to take the rest of the day off. He also told me to down a couple of the pills with a can of beer, even though the warning said not to. When I woke up 12 hours later, refreshed, I was ready to go back to the clinic. The doctor I worked for was very happy to see me and still pissed that I was sent home in the middle of a very busy schedule leaving him without an assistant. He didn’t seem to notice that I was feeling no pain.
The same doctor who did all that dental work on me also predicted I would lose all my teeth by the time I was 40 because of how bad my bite was (Boy am I dazzling you yet with all this dental wisdom?). That was my motivation to prove him wrong. I am long past 40 now and am proud to say I have most of my teeth (a couple have been replaced with prosthetics) but my choppers are quite intact, if not pretty.
I now walk around happy to give a big toothy smile. Since I left the Army, I have maintained the highest dental health. I visit my dentist (also golf buddy) every six months. I no longer fear the dentist, just the person who sends me the bills. My smile may not be pretty, but at my age I am the envy of a lot of guys who are gluing their teeth in each morning, resulting in fake smiles that look like a box of Chiclets gum. At least the stained, twisted teeth I’m showing are mine.
When I was in the Army, the medical section of the service had the slogan, “Preserving the Fighting Strength.” In our clinic we had a sign that said we were “Preserving the Biting Strength.” I think we needed something with a little more teeth in it.
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