Emotionally,
physically, spiritually—the source varies, but the feeling is the same.
Hey, if
you don’t ever get to this place…
Round of
applause!
God bless
you!
More
power to you!
Teach me
your ways!
I think that
we can all comfortably—or uncomfortably—admit we’ve been there. Our profession
is a grind! There’s no other way to
put it. I’m sure other jobs have similar stressors, but I don’t know the ins and
outs of other jobs; I just know dentistry can be tough. We have demands from
the clinical/patient management side of the equation, and sometimes (most of
the time?) an even greater sense of demand from the staff/business/management
side of things. It’s inevitable, but it’s one of the reasons we chose dentistry—and
it’s what drives me on a daily, weekly, and yearly basis to become a better
practitioner, manager, and boss.
I’m in
that place right now. We have a five-month-old at home who is a walking viral Petri
dish of daycare “love” and daddy picks up all of it. Yippee! We’ve recently
added a new office location, and all of the marketing, managing, equipping, and
adjusting that goes along with it. Emotionally, physically, spiritually—I’m
drained. And I’m not afraid to admit it.
Now, I’m
not here to push religion or question where you fall in the spectrum of
opinions on the matter, but I can tell you one thing I’ve learned in my 30
years—the world finds a way to bring you back. It grabs you by the bootstraps,
gives you a swift kick to the behind, and gets you going in the right
direction. The method to the madness is something I’ve yet to figure out and
have no intention of deciphering. It is a plan much bigger than I, but good
golly, it happens on the regular!
I love
my job, my staff, and my patients. I make it a point to get to know them all on
a level greater than “How’s the weather? Happy holidays! Hey, it’s Friday!” I
play golf with some, get coffee and dinner with others. We have an opportunity,
and, I feel, an obligation, to make a difference in people’s lives. With this
often come friendships that reach far beyond the clinical walls.
On this
occasion, it was Stanley—an elderly patient of mine who is truly THE most
interesting man in the world. He’s lived a life of absolute wonderment and
tells stories you could write a Hollywood script about. He’s lived all over the
world, was a professional wrestler in his prime—and has a handshake move than
can render you unconscious in 30 seconds, so he says. He’s been in TV
commercials and he even met the Pope, poking fun at his bell-covered slippers
that played “Ave Maria” as he walked through the Sistine Chapel. I seriously
can’t make this stuff up, people!
Anyway,
Stanley was in for his routine checkup this week, and as I walked into the
operatory, there sat a massive, hand-wrapped gift against the wall.
“For
your wife and baby boy,” he said. “I saved it until now so it would mean more
after the Christmas rush.”
I waited
to open it until I got home. There was a sweet note with it. It was a painting
of a tiger, and the note spoke of the origins of our son’s name. And, you know
what, it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten. No, it doesn’t fit the
“theme” of our son’s room, nor is it something I’d pick out off the rack if I
passed it in a local store, but it’s a thoughtful, touching gift from a friend.
Just for being his dentist. Man, that’s cool. And it came just at a time when I
needed a jumpstart.
And
there it goes—that infinite power that meets us in the place of struggle. Leave
it to someone smarter than me to figure it out. I’m good with my tiger painting and thank-you note.
Donald Murray III, DMD
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