I was 16 and my top teeth were giving me some problems. More and more each day they were starting to ache. As I laid on mi bed at Giltraps, staring at the revolving fan blades, the pain would become unbearable. I tried soaking mi gums with clove oil but as soon as it wore off the pain returned.
Some evenings I would be laying there holding mi jaws, sobbing for hours asking the tooth fairy to please take away the pain.
After 2 weeks of constant pain, I decided to take them out. As I was sat in Giltraps holding whiskey in mi now swollen mouth, a bloke told me there was a horse dentist staying at Twitcheys' Hotel.
At that time, there was no dentist in Lake Cargelligo. The closest one was 100 miles away and by all accounts, he was not cheap. Owing to the fact that I didn't have too much money, I decided to go down to see him at Twitcheys' the following morning. When I walked into Twitcheys' at 10 O'clock Twitchey pointed out the drunk who was leaning on the bar with another bloke, steadily tipping down whiskey and milk.
"G'day,", I said as I approached him, my mouth throbbing with pain.
"G'day Cobber.", he said in a slightly drunken slur.
"Are you the dentist?"
"No mate, I'm a veterinary surgeon but I've been know to pull a few human teeth in my day. Why? What can I do for you?"
"Four of mi top back teeth are aching like hell and the front two are starting to go black down the edges."
"So ya want 'em out?
"Yeah, if ya can do it."
"When?" he said, with not much enthusiasm.
"Now, if ya not busy."
"I thought so.". he said in a disappointed tone of voice.
"Alright, mi rooms upstairs. Number 18. The doors open. Ya can wait up there. I'll be up in a few minutes."
As I thanked him and started to walk away, he called out to Twitchey, "Give us a couple more doubles Eric, I need to steady mi hands."
Room 18 was open when I got up stairs. I went straight in and sat on the rickety chair in the room (the only chair). Five minutes later the vet walked into the room. He was a smallish, skinny bloke with a haggard face. He was probably younger than his aged appearance. He walked over to the small table and picked up a head rest and then screwed it to the round back of the wooden chair.
"Ya can sit back down now.", he said as he placed the chair in front of the long dresser mirror which was hanging on the wardrobe. Then he opened a doctors' bag and removed all of his dental tools which he put on the collapsible card table next to the small hand basin. Once this was done, he turned to me and said,
"Which ones are aching mate?"
I opened mi mouth and pointed to the 4 back teeth that were giving me hell.
"The front ones are not too good either mate but you could probably git a couple more years out of 'em if ya fill 'em."
"Alright, take the 4 back ones out and fill the front ones' if ya like."
"I'm not a fucking Maquarie Street specialist sport! All I can do is pull teeth. I don't even own a fucking drill. I'm a fucking horse doctor by trade. You'll have to go to Sydney to save those front ones if ya still want 'em."
"Give me a few minutes to think about it.", I said.
"Don't take too fucking long then 'cause Saturday's mi day off. Mi drinking cobber's waiting for me downstairs and it's my round."
"Alright, take 'em all out."
"Ya sure that's what ya wanna do? They could probably save those front ones in Sydney for ya."
"I don't have enough money to go to Sydney and if these fronts ones start giving me pain after you've gone then what will I do?"
"In that case you'd best have 'em all out. Alright, lean ya head back on the rest, while I fill up the needle."
He stuck the needle through the rubber stopper of a small bottle and then pulled back on the plunger. He gave the hypodermic a quick squirt on the lino floor and said, "Alright sport, open up."
As he stuck mi upper back gum with the needle, he hit a nerve real hard. So much so that mi head jerked back and knocked the head rest off the chair.
"Ahhhh!", I let out a great big yell.
"Sorry about that sport. I must have put it in a bit too deep."
"Is that gonna happen again?", I asked.
"I'll try not too sport but I'm gonna have to give ya at least another 6 needles."
Out of the 6 shots he gave me, he hit the nerves 3 more times, by this time the tears were rolling out of mi eyes.
"That should do it mate. We'll give em a few minutes to work."
While I waited for mi top gums to go numb, he messed around selecting some dental forceps to do the job with.
"How's that mate, can ya feel anything now?"
"No, I can't even feel the aching back ones."
He put a metal dish on the table to my side and said, "Better hang on to the chair sport. Some of these back teeth can be pretty fucking stubborn at times."
One by one the teeth clanked as he dropped then in the bowl. There were pieces of gum stuck to the teeth as he dropped each one into the dish and before long he said,
"That's it mate. Ya won't have anymore fucking trouble with 'em. Swill ya mouth out with this stuff. It tastes like horse piss but it's good for ya mouth. It'll keep it clean so it doesn't get infected. Ya want these teeth put in a bag to take with ya?"
"No thanks mate. They've given me tho much pain the the lathst 2 weekths, I'm thick of theeing 'em. How muchss do I owe ya thport?"
"Let's see how many we got in here..7,8,9,10. Just give me 30 bucks mate. 2 bucks a tooth and 10 bucks for the needles. Alright?"
"Thankths.", I said and very groggily got to mi feet.
I paid him the 30 bucks and then went down to the bar for a packet of fags. Although I had a wad of paper hand-towels over mi mouth, the blood was oozing out everywhere. When I asked Twitchey for a packet of fagths, he noticed all the blood, he almost threw up. He gave me the fags for free and told me to get out. He couldn't stand to see it!
I decided to go up to my mates house. From the pain of having mi teeth out, I was feeling really insecure and shaky, plus the bleeding wouldn't stop. Mark Hargraves, who was Jimmys' uncle was one of the best blokes I'd met in mi life. His wife, Dorothy, was a fair dinkum saint. When they saw what state I was in, they both did their best to comfort me.
They put a mattress on the veranda for me and I lay belly down with mi head hanging over the edge so that the blood would not go down mi throat. Already I had swallowed too much blood and a couple of times the I vomited it up. It ran out of mi mouth in long, slimy dribbles and fell on the lawn, 2 feet below.
Mark was about 25 at the time and Dot was probably 23. They owned a small beat up weather-board house at the top end of town. Nothing was too much trouble for them. They treated me like family. Mark would bring me cold hand towels to bite down on, trying to congeal the blood. Dot would wash 'em out and then put 'em back in the freeze box.
I stayed at their place for a few days until I was able to swallow some cold soup that Dot had made especially for me. I soon figured out that if I dipped the bread in the soup I could suck it so I could swallow it without it getting caught in the back of mi throat.
Over the years that I shore sheep, Mark and Dot remained dear to mi heart. Mark found work for me as a shearer and many times Dot would wash out clothes for me in the outside copper.
As the weeks rolled by, my mouth slowly started to heal. Eventually, it reached the point where I could chew crisps as I was having a beer. It took me 12 months before I finally got a good set of plastic choppers which made eating meat a bit more enjoyable. I must confess that little trauma took the joy of of eating for me. From that day onwards, I ate to survive, not for pleasure.
