What would Gallant do?

Schoolchildren, your days are numbered -- literally.

A week from today, students at Gehlen Catholic and Le Mars Community will officially begin the 2009-10 school year. Parents, hang in there, the safety and sanity of the school year routine is within sight.

The rituals and routines of preparing for the school year are well established: physicals for those participating in sports, registration and fee payment, purchasing clothing and school supplies and ever so subtly, attempting to change sleep patterns.

When I was growing up, a visit to the dentist was included in these rituals. This week, I paid my annual visit to the dentist. I am proud to report no cavities.

Among the reasons for no cavities is brushing regularly and a diet that does not contain many sugary foods.

Also, I believe nearly every tooth in my mouth has precious little room for decay. Most are already occupied with filings. Among the items in my family genetic pool that I inherited are: flat feet, male pattern baldness and bad teeth. The genetic trifecta!

When we were kids, we travelled to a neighboring town to visit the dentist. The waiting room was great. They had Highlights magazine, which contained those wonderful find the hidden items pictures, where you would scour the photo to find the upside down toucan in the tree leaves. Remember those? The magazine also featured Goofus and Gallant, the object lesson of good manners and deportment. Oh, Goofus, when will you ever learn?

Perhaps the reason for Highlights, and especially the hidden items picture, was to distract you from the sound of the dentist's drill. There truly is nothing quite like the high pitched whine of pain that the drill gives.

As many of you know, there were six children in my family, and my parents provided for all of us the best they could. We had no medical insurance, and I don't even know if dental insurance was even an option. We paid cash.

To keep costs low, we got rid of all of the "extras." Unfortunately, the only "extra" that could be eliminated was novocaine.

Yes, until I was a adult, every filling in my teeth was installed without the benefit of novocaine.

During childbirth classes, I learned that through breathing techniques and focusing your vision on a fixed object, the mind is capable of temporarily detaching itself from the body. It is called the Lamaze method.

I had learned the technique years earlier.

I discovered it the first time I sat in the chair to have three cavities filled. I used the bright overhead light as a focal point and a firm grip on the handles of the exam table to make it through the drilling. During later visits, I used the dentist's mustache and nose hairs. Yes, gross but necessary.

Perhaps the worst part of the whole thing was the exam. The dentist, who was a kindly old man, would scrape and prod with his tools. At the discovery of a cavity, he would sigh. Counting the sighs gave me an idea of what would lie ahead.

He would then slide over to check my chart, then remark, "you kids don't get novocaine, do you?" I often wondered how bad the punishment would be for lying and getting the shot, but never followed through.

With a sympathetic sigh, the drilling would begin. It was always a relief to get the cold water and be asked to spit into the always running small sink near the chair. The water sounds helped the mental escape as well. Heck, there were times I prayed to the dental gods never to act like Goofus if I could be spared one of the sighs of the dentist.

That Gallant probably would have crumbled under the drill anyway....

There have been numerous advancements in dentistry in the four decades since I first sat in the exam chair. The smells and sounds still bring back powerful memories.

For what it's worth: brushing and flossing are well worth the time invested.

As always, I welcome your comments. You can reach me by email at tstangl@lemarscomm.net, telephone 712-546-7031, x40 or toll free 1-800-728-0066 x40.

Thanks for reading, I'll keep in touch. Feel free to do the same.