An Homage to Dr. Daugherty, My Childhood Dentist

When I was younger, just a bad little kid
My mama noticed funny things I did
Like shooting puppies with a B.B. gun
I'd poison guppies and when I was done
I'd find a f#$%^&% cat and bash in its head
That's when my mama said

What did she say?

She said, "My boy, I think someday
You'll find a way to make your natural tendencies pay

You'll be a dentist
You have a talent for causing things pain
Son, be a dentist
People will pay you to be inhumane
Your temperament's wrong for the priesthood
And teaching would suit you still less
Son, be a dentist
You'll be a success

Oh, shut up. Open wide. here I come!

I am your dentist
And I enjoy the career that I picked
I am your dentist
And I get off on the pain I inflict
When I start extracting those molars
You girls will be screaming like holy rollers

And though it may cause my patients distress
Somewhere in heaven above me, I know that my mama's proud of me
'Cause I'm a dentist- and a success

Say ah! Now spit. - Little Shop of Horrors

(and if there was a similar song about a hygienist, it would also be applicable)


The first time I saw Little Shop of Horrors, I finally felt like someone understood my childhood. I had braces twice, but nothing my orthodontist ever dreamed up ever compared to the hell visited on me by my psycho dentist. I suppose I should have had some sort of therapy to help me get over my treatment at his hands, but eventually I aged out of it.

The scars, however, are fresh enough that I am more than a little paranoid/neurotic/overprotective/hair trigger when it comes to the people who will be approaching the teeny little teeth of my children. The last dentist I had used to take my blood pressure every time I went in (and it was always low, due to genetics - if I get out of bed too quickly I get dizzy), but if they took it when I brought my children in, they'd probably offer me a cot and a tranquilizer.

So today the kiddies went in to meet yet another dentist in their short little lives. I was very agitated because Lauren was claiming she thought she had four cavities and Aislinn clearly needed more teeth extracted.* When I mentioned in passing to the hygienist that Aislinn had had teeth pulled in June, she said "Oh, by Dr. Mark," at which point I began to have double vision but managed to stammer "Aren't they seeing the same dentist?" She must have seen something in my face because she said "No, he's off today, but all of our dentists are really good. Really good. Really good with kids."

As it turned out, I had nothing to worry about. The replacement dentist was as nice as the orignial dentist, and he even blew up gloves as balloons and then decorated them as fish for the girls. He spotted one cavity on Lauren (rather unfair since she is the least sugar houndish, but she did have a long stretch of chocolate milk) and one tooth of Aislinn's that needed to be pulled, but he didn't lecture anyone or draw blood just to prove a point. He smiled and waved at the girls and said "See you soon! Good luck in school!"

When you think about it, dentists should be really, really, nice to the kiddies who need more work and meaner to the kiddies with perfect teeth. After all, we are the ones who are forking over the money.

What I am not so happy about is that I have to take them back tomorrow. Two days in a row in the dentist office may bring back flashbacks.

* The dentist told me that in the past 3 years he has seen a sharp increase in baby teeth that refuse to come out. He guessed that maybe kids were over fluoridated and their teeth were so strong that even the big bad grown up teeth can't force them out of their mouths.