When
I graduated from dental school, I made two promises to myself: never establish
a home office or specialize in orthodontics. But never say never. As a general
dentist, I’ve enjoyed incorporating orthodontics into my practice, which is—you
guessed it—in my home.
After
commuting 40 minutes to an hour and a half, depending on traffic, to my high-rent
suburban D.C. office, my home practice has been a delight; the coffee pot is my
only distraction on the way to work. I thought there might be a problem with drop-in
patients, especially on weekends, but I live in a rural area, which is not
conducive to folks just sauntering over unannounced.
My
wife manages the office, and the worst drawback for her has been people giving her
payments when she’s not at work. They might call three months later, upset that
the payment was never recorded. Later, she would find the crumpled check buried in her
purse along with her two wallets, numerous loose bills, assorted change,
expired credit cards, a coin purse (containing more change), lipstick,
eyeliner, emery boards, nail clippers, wadded facial tissue, ancient MasterCard
receipts, scraps of paper containing historical grocery lists, and—well, you
get the picture. She no longer accepts payments at the grocery store or on the
alley on bowling night.
I’ve
loved incorporating orthodontics, which I once condescendingly referred to as
“wire-bending.” It has allowed me to more closely track my ortho patients’ oral
hygiene and diagnose caries development early. And the meticulous treatment
planning, which predicts a two or more year regime, has spilled over into other
aspects of my general practice. The treatment plan contains a list of dos and
don’ts that the kids and parents are supposed to follow. Those instructions,
however, seem to be forgotten at Halloween.
And
incorporating this aspect of dentistry does add to the mix.
I’ve
spent a lot of time performing dentistry overseas with different charitable
organizations. One time when I was far away, a mother, who didn’t want to use
our on-call dentist, phoned my wife, who told her to bring her son right over.
The boy was in braces, and a wire was poking him. He arrived at the house with
blood and muck all over his face, more than just a wire poking his cheek. With
the mom looking on, horrified, my wife took him into our kitchen—practicing
dentistry without a license is not on the table, but being a good neighbor is—and
proceeded to wipe him off with peroxide. There was a minor cut on his lip and straw
caught in his braces, which, it turned out, were not loose. He had fallen face-first
out of a hayloft and into a horse stall. The muck my wife had just wiped off
was not just dirt.
On
another occasion, when I was in town, a school nurse phoned our office. She
sounded frantic. A young orthodontic patient needed to be seen right away. I’d
once been told by an orthodontist that there was no such thing as an
orthodontic emergency (which was the main reason he’d chosen his specialty),
but this particular call sounded like one, although the nurse wasn’t very clear
about the problem. When the young man entered the waiting room, I heard my wife
crack up laughing. She was almost in hysterics as she came back to announce his
arrival.
I
couldn’t imagine what could be that funny about a patient in distress—until he
was seated. When the boy turned toward me I saw a ballpoint pen clipped to his
upper wire. It was firmly pressed against his lips and chin, while the “clicky”
end was wedged far up his nose. A telltale bulge revealed that it was pressing
hard against the inside of his nostril. The school nurse had attempted to
dislodge it, to no avail. I tried to be nonchalant and asked him how his day
was going. He just shrugged.
As
I took the wire off, the pen fell to the floor. I should’ve taken the time to
snap a picture of it jammed up his nose. I asked if I could have his pen as a
souvenir, after my assistant had wiped it clean, but the kid said he needed it
for school.
There
some are days when I just love my job!
Orthodontics
and a home office have been a great way to expand my general dentistry practice.
Jim Rhea, DMD