Oh my goodness, Retlaw, (and other posters to this thread) you have me cringing hearing of how much torture dentistry used to be! The early memories I have of dentists back in the early 60s is getting the gas: a black rubber mask put on my face, the woozy feeling of going under, (sort of a slow spiral image winding down in my head). Then waking up, all done. I sure feel lucky after hearing your tales. Mr. Gleave at Peel Park once pulled one if my uncooperative baby teeth with his hankie. He was strict, but a kind soul really
My sister became a dental hygienist, and her ex husband was a dentist, so dental care over here was an expected evil. He worked on my teeth while they were married and he was excellent. I still dread going to any dentist, though. Gives me the Heebie Jeebies even though I go every six months. My main fear these days is him finding a cracked filling as I have many that are decades old. When I can leave his office with an all clear, I fairly skip back out into the parking lot!