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May 2009 | Modern Hygienist
Lessons in caring Beep. Beep. Beep. I hear the sound of the alarm beeping and I can’t believe it’s Monday morning already. As I stand in the shower, I wonder how many other dental hygienists feel the way I do. I never thought I would be working in the dental field. After practicing for 14 years, I’m beginning to wonder why I did choose it as my profession.
What kind of person picks dental hygiene as a profession? Those of use who are hygienists can spot potential candidates a mile away: they don’t have a hair out of place, their teeth are beautiful, and these overachievers are not so good at math. I love the quote at the beginning of this article because it is from The Neurotic’s Notebook. Most dental hygienists proudly place themselves in the neurotic category especially when it comes to getting that last bit of stain off the lower incisal roots of our pipe- smoking patients. Could it be we are a group of passionately neurotic professionals?
Dr. Scott W. Wemmer has been my boss for nine years. He is a proud graduate of Ohio State University and practices in Howard City, a small town in Michigan. Dr. Wemmer is truly one of the nicest people I know. Every day he reminds me why I chose dental hygiene as my career. He does not judge people and he treats everyone with respect. On days when it seems like we are a denture center rather than a general practice, he doesn’t complain. Even when he agrees to remake the smallest complete upper denture I have ever seen, for the third time, he never complains. He is honest with his patients and puts a tangible value on their opinion. He has been practicing for 30 years and still seems to care.
“Care” is such a strong word. I’m guessing care should not feel like, “Good morning, Sam.” (Probe, scale, polish, floss and wait.) “Have a good day Sam” to our patients. Did I decide to pursue dental hygiene because of my need to care for people? Yes, of course I did…well at least a little bit. I chose dental hygiene because I found out how financially rewarding the profession can be. I wanted to have it all, and being able to have flexibility with my schedule to accommodate a family was very important. I don’t see the word “care” in any of that.
I will never forget a rainy morning in May when Conner* was on my schedule. Conner was 5. He had a few freckles on his nose that matched the color of his curly brown hair. He smelled like maple syrup. He had eaten pancakes for breakfast with his mom. Conner’s mom came back to the treatment room with Conner and me. He climbed on the chair; I placed the bib around his neck and asked him if his teeth hurt at all. Conner said no, and I proceeded to tell him he was due for pictures of his teeth. Conner’s mom said she did not want x-rays of Conner’s teeth, she just wanted them “cleaned.” As a new graduate, I understood it was my job to make Conner’s mom understand that radiographs were essential to good oral health. What Conner’s mom heard was, “You are a bad mom for not getting him the treatment he needs.” Conner’s mom turned around and left the treatment room crying. It turns out she had saved money to bring him to the dental office. She was a single mom who felt she was doing a beautiful thing for her child by bringing him to the office for a “cleaning” and examination. Where was my caring in that situation? It is obvious that Conner’s mom knew what that looked like and I didn’t.
Donald* is a vibrant man in his early 60s. He knows about caring and passion. His wife died in April. I saw him shortly after her funeral. He was pale, his hair was messed and he looked drawn. There have been a few patients over the years I have had the opportunity to shed a few tears with and he was one of them. As we remembered his wife together, he told me about how she died quietly in their home. Just a few months later, Donald returned for his recare appointment. As he stood up in the waiting room to come back to my operatory, he was radiant. I told him I loved his blue shirt. It made him glow. His hair was neatly combed and his face was the great face of a 60ish man who has seen more than he wanted to in life. About 15 minutes into Donald’s appointment, he touched the side of my hand to stop it as it was traveling toward his mouth with an instrument. Donald asked, “Have you ever lost something you loved and thought you were never going to find it again?” I thought, “Sure, I lost my keys yesterday and I was almost late for work.” He looked me in the eyes and proceeded to tell me about a beautiful lady he met. They will be married this Christmas. When I think of the words “care” and “passion,” I see Donald’s eyes as he is telling me about the things he lost and thought he would never find again: love, caring and passion. I also see my boss, Dr. Wemmer, when I think of the word “care.” I know from experience that each work place offers its strengths. Ours is caring. *The article is based on true events. All patients in this article are fictitious.
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