Keep on Smiling, or Else

So, when I meet a patient for the first time, things start with a conversation; it’s a little one-sided.

I do the listening while asking questions about stuff happening in the patient’s life, like family, work, and hobbies or interests. Couldn’t tell you why sports and food seem to show up so often? I always study the patient’s medical/dental history, the digital x-rays and digital scan before our sit down, eye-to-eye meeting. But there are ground rules to cover before we start talking teeth.

“Making Dentistry fun” is part of our purpose and the words appear on a sizeable plaque attached to the wall in our reception area. And in dentistry, everyone needs to have a sense of humor; it’s part of our first agreement.

So, when you’re working in a fairly small room and inserting four gloved hands and power tools into of a small space surrounded by cheeks and a tongue of varying dimensions and mobility, in search of a tooth measured in single digit millimeters and an ultimate work area sometimes measured in fractions of millimeters, the potential for stress might be in the air…for everyone involved.

For the last 2-years or so, I’ve greeted newbies without the benefit of wearing a surgical cap and gown, a shield, or loops. But since dentists always have to go to dental school and are at least slightly broken inside, just before I walk into the room I think, “What if they ask me to wear a larger mask…or a bag over my head?”

One of my fave quotes of all-time is Mark Twain’s “It’s not what you don’t know that gets you into trouble, it’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” But I’m out on that limb when I assume anyone walking through the door has a measure of anxiety about a visit to the dentist. My conversation sets the tone for helping new patients feel liked, listened to, and safe. I smile a lot, a surviving a dental school self-defense mechanism (in some dental circles, I’m still known as “Smilin Jack.”)

And I talk family. Even though Von Bulow sounds like a great name for a German composer or Field Marshall, 95% of my relatives are Sicilian; I always ask patients if it’s okay if I serve them in the context of family. I inform them of my family roots and add “Sicilians, in general, are bent on revenge and never forget.” I add, “My uncles all carried knives (they didn’t).” I then pledge to be respectful, caring, and gentle at all times. Patients always give me the green light on being served as famiglia, and it’s surprising how many Sicilians live in Temple City, California.

So, this week, in addition to all the usual Covid-19 stuff like patients going full-out Sicilian non-Famiglia over insurance issues or having to see the “wrong” Hygienist or having to wear a mask, we suffered a true meltdown…by me. Smilin Jack briefly transformed into Riling Jack because he had to work in a treatment room he did not prefer…for TWO whole days. And, as Arthur Heller wrote in Catch-22, “Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.”

And then things only got worse. The next day, as usual, I arrived 2-hours before our morning huddle on a bone chilling SoCal Thursday morning (37 degrees Fahrenheit!) And…the heating didn’t work. And every computer was dead. And the phones weren’t working. And only the truly paranoids would first check to see if they’d paid their Spectrum bill- I did. Our own IT guy arrived after I had checked in with our Spectrum IT guy who surmised there was no connection between the server and workstations. Our IT arrived and pronounced our server “Mostly dead.” He took our server away for home server CPR. I might add, I love the movie, The Princess Bride. Our guy attempted to deal with the phones, and it helped until yesterday.

Today, I arrived early to leave a key for our IT guy and the re-conditioned soon to become extinct server. And I was doing okay for a while. I saw State of the Union, picked up a Havana Cappuccino, got to the office, and talked smack on Facebook. I had an hour to get to the golf course. I put the key in an envelope, sent our IT guy a text with security instructions and key/envelope location. I set the alarm, shut the door and the security gate on the way out but then realized I’d forgotten my hoodie (useful during the SoCal tundra weather like on Thursday.) But my key was in an envelope sitting on my desk inside the office. And the last time I locked myself out it was my car, and it was still running in the parking lot outside the public tennis courts. I guess I should be grateful.

Well, I swear, for the longest time I’ve thought the “Universe” was a crock made up for people who didn’t like to read but still needed an answer for everything. But that was before I knew the Universe was Sicilian; it’s bent on revenge and never forgets.

As the “Universe” would have it, tomorrow it’s Monday morning and we’re having a team meeting at 7:30 am. And I’ll be apologizing, repenting, and smiling.

By the way, the phones are still down.

Do you believe in miracles???