I am 12 or 13 years old.
The only dentist in our prairie town is on the fourth floor of a medical building.
Dr Schvenk's window looks down at the Bijou Theater, where I spend many happy hours watching Saturday morning cartoons and serials at kiddie matinees.
The dentist has a barber chair and a rickety Tinkertoy apparatus that runs with cords, wheels and pulleys. He runs this thing with his foot. This spins the whirring screwdriver apparatus at the end of the gizmo to poke at your teeth.
Sometimes mom or dad were called in to pin your shoulders against the chair so Dr. Schvenk can force a toilet plunger mask over your face. The gas inside smells like rubber and rotten eggs.
Each burst of gas can only incapacitate a kid two minutes, so this rubber mask is pinned to your head six to eight times. Kids who threw up during the procedure got an old towel and dagger looks. I saw one kid have his feet tied to the bottom of the chair so he couldn't kick the good doctor.
* * *
I went to my terrific dentist in Markham yesterday, the one who's dealt with me for decades.
It was nothing like my kid-hood.
I pay any amount to be totally Zonked.
I remember nothing save for Rosa, the good Doc, Linda, the cheery nurse, and greeting my ride like a stunned robot about 90 minutes later.
It cost quite a bit thru the decades to un-remember Schvenk.
But I recommend it.
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