Doctors

                                            Ben Antao

 
The story that Aloysius D'Souza posted about the Nachinola doctor-dentist was most interesting. It reminded me of my dentist Dr. Sokalsky, now about 50 years old. I've been going to him twice a year for the past 23 years ever since I had become a teacher in Toronto and had dental insurance coverage.

On the wall of one room in his clinic is a framed drawing of a harassed dentist pulling out teeth from the mouth of an elderly-looking patient with fierce pliers. On my very first visit, I was ushered into this room in his basement clinic and a female dental hygienist scaled and polished my teeth.

Seated in the black leather chair and waiting for the dentist to check the work done by the hygienist, I was amused by the framed drawing and commented on it when he appeared.

"That's the way they did it in the past," he said, smiling.

"Really?"

"Yes, before all this modern technology, in the seventeenth century," he said.

"Interesting," I said. "I'm glad I've never had to go to the dentist before. The first time I went to the dentist was because I was required to do it for immigration purposes. I was thirty years old and I went to the Bombay Hospital because the American Consulate insisted that I get my teeth professionally cleaned before they would grant me the visa."

Dr. Sokalsky was examining my mouth then, scratching the inside of a tooth here and knocking on a tooth there with his hooked drill and I was delaying him with my talk.

"The Bombay dentist said I had the best teeth he had ever seen in his life, including his own," I said, finding a break when he momentarily stopped as if to admire my teeth.

The dentist smiled graciously now and said, "Nothing wrong with your teeth. I can't make money off you."

"You know, this is the first time I am coming to the dentist since I came to Canada nineteen years ago. I thought, since the school board covers my costs, I'd give some business to the dentist."

Dr. Sokalsky, 12 or 13 years younger than me, laughed spontaneously.

"I come from Goa," I said. "Have you heard of Goa?"

"No."

"Well, it's south of Bombay and used to be a Portuguese colony like India was a British colony."

He nodded, wanting to hear more.

"When I was growing up in my village, I used to brush my teeth with a piece of charcoal that I would pick from the woodstove and then I'd clean with salt. After that I'd go in the front verandah, pluck out a green mango leaf and polish my teeth with it."

"You were doing all the things we're doing here," he said. "You got chlorophyll from the leaves, brightness from the charcoal, and anti-bacteria from the salt.  Here we use the drill to remove the tartar scales and fragrant sand as polish." 

I was impressed by the dentist's open-mindedness, and as you might imagine, I've been going to him ever since, twice a year, and believe it or not, I invariably find myself in the room with the framed drawing of the dentist with pliers, even though he has moved into a more elegant and modern building.


Ben Antao
August 19, 1999

©1999 Ben Antao