...the doctor came with his bag and his hat and he knocked on the door with a rat-a- tat-tat

This little rhyme is part of a children's song called Miss Polly had a Dolly...

but it's exactly how the doctors of the 50s made house calls. I remember ours clearly and he even wore a hat. 

You could call his surgery and arrange a suitable time for him to visit, and yes, the doctors were mostly blokes. I'm sure there were lady doctors, as we used to call them, but they were few and far between. You may have noticed that I used the word surgery for the doctor's base. Today ,the word surgery has almost completely faded out and been replaced with'clinics or medical centres'.

The doctor in our hills area, was very popular. He was a big, tall bloke but not fat and very jovial and he laughed a lot. I can imagine he was good for people's mental health too, even though that wasn't talked about then. I think there were only two doctors in our little hills town, which at that time was semi rural. You could hear our doctor coming through our gate and knocking loudly on the door. He always had the full medical kit with him; the stethoscope, the stick for saying 'aah' and various pills including Sulpha tablets. These were great big yellow horse tablets, which I think my Mum used to cut in half for me. They were used  for a variety of infections and although antibiotics were in use at the time, our doctor seemed to favour the big horse pills

Once I recall our doctor prescribing a glass of milk for me following a certain medicine. I have no idea why, but I hated milk by itself; after all we were made to drink it at school and I hated it there too (anyway,I think my Mum found a way to get me to drink it) All the kids did, because it curdled in summer and iced over in winter. Kids used to try to bring Milo ( a chocolate powder to add to milk, but if caught had to throw it away and then probably drink a second bottle. You'll find a lot of adults from that era who dislike milk, or at least milk with no additive. I have a friend who dislikes just about all milk products ,because of force feeding of milk at school.

Sometimes the doctor would come if he was just concerned about a patient as he did with my dad after he was electrocuted in our kitchen and was badly injured. My mum only saved his life just in time. Anyway our doctor had performed surgery on my dad and he'd sewn my dad's hand into his stomach so it would heal. I know that sounds weird but it was a recognised medical procedure, and so our doctor would drop in often to check on my dad.

I don't imagine our doctor is alive now; even the house he and his family used to live in has been pulled down and replaced with a block of shops, but wherever he is, I'd like him to know that he did a mighty good job and was a really good doctor

The Dentist; There was nothing guaranteed to instil fear into a person in the fifties like a visit to the dentist. Even walking past a dental surgery when you didn't have an appointment was guaranteed to make you swoon with nervousness. Just the sickly smell of a mix of ether ,antiseptic and cloves was off-putting because you knew what you were in for. Sometimes other patients coming out looked upset or were crying, and I think they should have had in and out doors. That probably wouldn't have made any difference though as you could often hear the patient in the chair crying out. from the waiting room. In the 50s all the dentist's instruments were well and truly on display; the drill suspended from a pillar loomed large and terrifying; the dazzling overhanging light, that would help him find all those cavities, the large needle for numbing (mind you, you had to request that, it wasn't given automatically). There were also the various tools for jabbing and poking and these were able to find cavities too.

I used to sit in the dentist's waiting room with my Mum, feeling sick. I think she felt sick too, but she always put on a brave face for me and my sister. She knew I hated it, but was always insistent that my sister and I go every 6 months, for which I'm very grateful today. My teeth in those days were very prone to decay. However due to these early days of lots of dental work I developed a dental phobia, which I've found many other people from that era suffer from.

Our dentist had a surgery in the small Adelaide Hills town where we lived. I hated walking past there almost as much as going in. In summer, the dentist had the window open and you could see the poor patient in the chair. The dentist would wave if he saw you pass by. So much for privacy. A few years later he moved to rooms in the city. The building is still there but was gutted to become part of a Myer department store. I can look at that building and recall that some of my memorable moments have taken place in there, good and bad.. My obstetrician was also located on the third floor, one below the dentist on the fourth floor. floor 'but by that time I wasn't seeing the dentist on the fourth floor.

 Anyway, back to the dentist's chair. I recall having multiple teeth extracted in the city rooms. In those days, there was no attempt to mend teeth. It was either fill or extract. The city rooms were, as I've said up on the fourth floor and to get there you had to ride in an agonisingly slow lift, thereby prolonging the butterflies.. Upon stepping out, the dental surgery smell hit you in the face, even though our dentist's rooms were down the other end of the dark, gloomy corridor. When my husband was in his early teens, his family lived in the country and their dentist always had blood left in the basin from the previous patient. He also used to call the drill 'Buzzing Berty' which I think was supposed to make you feel better about your visit. Yes, really.

My dental  experiences had a happy ending. With the help of a good psychologist, I recovered from my dental phobia and I feel much more comfortable about the whole event these days.

But in the fifties most of us were scared stiff.

One more thing; the dentists rooms have and will always be called a surgery and dentists are now referred to as Dr, instead of Mr.

.