By now, we all have learned that the Dear Father of our Country, George Washington, was not so blessed. At least, those of us who have trouped through the Smithsonian have actually seen and wondered at Papa George's wood, wire, and ivory dentures. How else to explain his square-jawed and scowling visage on the dollar bill? Poor old guy's teeth were aching. Swollen gums?
And, of course, we've all been harangued by our impatient mothers and grandmothers after meals: "Go brush yerTEETH! George Washington didn't. See what that oversight got him!"
Even as a first-grader -- or before -- I always wondered what other such oversights might get my picture onto the dollar bill. Maybe even the hundred-dollar bill. Thusfar, my myriad oversights have profited me little. But MAN: you should see my teeth!
Far and away my best feature. I am that aging hulk of walking decay, who when he smiles at you, leaves you thinking: "Those teeth just gotta be FALSE!"
NO SUCH THING! And I owe it all to good dental care.
Now I come to the purpose of this posting.
GOOD DENTAL CARE:
A Brief and Uplifting Treatise
A Brief and Uplifting Treatise
BobS DDS is another one of those geniuses who oughta be slapped. My perception of dentists usedta be that they were like doctors in many ways. But they're also like sculptors in important ways, too. It's this blending of the scientific and the artistic that's always impressed me about the dentists I've known.
Dentistry is a special artistry that shapes and reshapes the teeth and the mouth, thereby accomplishing much that keeps the entire body in good shape.
BobS has taken care of my teeth for the past quarter century. His manner makes me think that he may feel he OWNS my choppers. My teeth were always pretty good. But the redoubtable BobS has improved them immensely. And he's quietly proud of his work.
My bite was not always perfect -- a fact that seemed to fit the rest of me quite nicely. There was always this slight overlap between the two large central upper teeth (incisors?). And one of my lower central teeth was crowded back slightly (down-and-in-cisor?).
Of course, like the rest of me, this slight imperfection was not really noticeable from a distance. (I look really good from about a quarter mile.). But close-up. . . .
So, anyway: the year I turned fifty, BobS said to me in the midst of one of my six-month check-ups: "How 'bout we straighten your teeth?"
Hmmmnnnn! Braces at fifty?! Even at fifty, there were perhaps more important things I would wish straightened. But still. . . .
Before I knew it, after a brief conference with my beloved wife -- who quite unaccountably loved me just as I was -- agreed this could be a good thing. Nancy was, for 30 years, a Health Educator, and she could reel off dozens of reasons why a good bite, regular flossing and brushing, and regular trips to the dentist have their uplifting affect and worthy effect upon good health in general.
"Show me a healthy mouth, I'll show you a healthy person. . ." and all stuff like that.
So BobS yanked my four Wisdom Teeth -- my one claim to any sort of wisdom, by the way. Then he wired me up with the then-new, nearly transparent braces, screwed everything down tight, thereby teaching me, incidentally, what real tooth-pain felt like. For just a little while in the beginning, I mean.
I learned quickly the importance of gentle brushing and chewing. And patience. Anyone who goes through such a straightening process knows full well that marching teeth around in your mouth only hurts on-schedule: the moment it doesn't hurt anymore, you get tightened down again.
That first spring I had the novel experience of delivering Commencement Addresses to ranks of graduating seniors with whom I had something special in common -- braces on our teeth. As they approached to receive their diplomas, I met them each with smiling handshakes. Their eyes would round-out in amazement, as we shOOk hands.
Written all over their faces was the astonished statement: "I thought so! This old duffer has braces on his teeth!" Their ears would prick up, too. Long as I kept it short, they would listen clear through. And respond with approval.
All of which made me wonder howcum wearing braces made me sound so much smarter. Strange phenomenon: A sore mouth somehow soothes the ears and raises the IQ?
Even the WhatchaCallit I wore for a year or two after the braces were removed made me feel smarter, as long as I didn't listen too carefully to what I was saying. In this way I was much like my graduate students. They never did listen too carefully, as I recall.
But again, I digress.
Through BobS I met PatT -- my lovely and persistent Dental Hygienist. It's Pat who nagged me hopefully for a number of years: "Flossingness is next to godliness!" Some of the most pleasant moments of my life have been spent lying back comfortably gazing happily into Pat's gorgeous face, as she whacked away happily with stainless steel instruments bravely stripping my teeth of accumulated plaque.
Until recently, that is, when along came all this raging disease peril that put all clinical faces safely behind hygiene masks. Thus does beauty bow to necessity. Sad loss.
But it was PatT who taught me to floss. Early-on, at six-month intervals she would patiently jack-hammer my teeth clear of plaque. Wore her out. "Gonna lose these gorgeous teeth, 'less you spend 20-30 seconds flossing after meals." For a few years I held to the barbarian belief that NOBODY really flosses.
But then, for some reason, it caught on with me. Three times a day, after snacks, before and after bed, while reading. Flossing became my major compulsion. Nor do these new-neat little jiffy-gizmos that come with picks & all, discourage my OCD. I can even read with one hand on the book, the other meticulously flossing away.
BobS and PatT lately provide some of the proudest moments of my life. Every once in awhile, Bob will haul out my old castings, hold up a mirror and say: "Remember the bad-good old days?!"
Or, a moment before donning her mask, PatT will grace me with her brilliant-white, perfectly-aligned smile, then express with delight: "OhMaGosh! Hardly a speck of plaque!"
During such moments, Pat T makes me feel like an Eagle Scout. Such a large transformation is no small gift. Makes me feel grateful.
I realize, however, that the ambiance I experience every six months at Robert F. Sonntaq DDS over at 4400 Fashion Square Boulevard (Saginaw, MI) is not accidental.
It's a direct result of Bob's able leadership. I try to imagine the occasional leadership meetings where he discusses how he wishes the entire office staff to greet and engage the clientele.
But such meetings aside, his own behavior sets an example of skilled human relations. The office is impeccably clean. Clients are met with warm greetings and welcoming smiles. The setting is brightly decorated and inviting. Fresh, warm coffee is offered. The schedule moves promptly. Waits are brief.
BobS, PatT or another associate fetch and lead each client to his assigned place. After a brief and courteous exchange, procedures begin immediately. There is little distinction between care and courtesy.
Both Bob and Pat are so practiced and skillful with procedures. Courtesy is always present and remarkable. You would think terms such as Please and Thank You might be considered unnecessary in a clinical setting. Not so in this setting.
Requests are quiet and reassuring:
Reflect for a moment upon the countless small directions and requests that transpire in the carrying-out of a dental procedure. When each is accompanied by various terms of polite affirmation, the total affect is overwhelmingly pleasant. Painless dentistry, indeed.
There is a large billboard on the north side of I-69-West near Lansing, MI, that advertises "Painless Dentistry." A large picture of the dentist. His name and location clearly stated. I never pass that sign without picturing BobS and PatT and saying to myself: Painless Dentistry? I'll see ya, and raise ya Twenty. I'll bet any amount that guy is not nearly as good as my Saginaw team.
Strange to realize and tell: it might be that my visits to BobS and PatT may have been among the most important instructive aspects of my continuing education and training as a classroom teacher. Before I retired, I too dealt with clients on a daily basis. Requests and directions for specific movements, questions and responses, challenges and reassurances, quick reorganization of students into small groups: such were characteristic of my classroom practice.
I learned from my visits with BobS and PatT the positive impact of quiet courtesy -- among other things, such politeness reassures and lifts self-esteem. It makes students feel their attentive presence is appreciated.
Courtesy is the very hallmark of true hostmanship. Indeed, it is how we wish to make guests welcome and comfortable in our homes. Therefore, courtesy's right and appropriate in any welcoming classroom, dental clinic, or anywhere else clients present themselves.
Dentistry is a special artistry that shapes and reshapes the teeth and the mouth, thereby accomplishing much that keeps the entire body in good shape.
BobS has taken care of my teeth for the past quarter century. His manner makes me think that he may feel he OWNS my choppers. My teeth were always pretty good. But the redoubtable BobS has improved them immensely. And he's quietly proud of his work.
My bite was not always perfect -- a fact that seemed to fit the rest of me quite nicely. There was always this slight overlap between the two large central upper teeth (incisors?). And one of my lower central teeth was crowded back slightly (down-and-in-cisor?).
Of course, like the rest of me, this slight imperfection was not really noticeable from a distance. (I look really good from about a quarter mile.). But close-up. . . .
So, anyway: the year I turned fifty, BobS said to me in the midst of one of my six-month check-ups: "How 'bout we straighten your teeth?"
Hmmmnnnn! Braces at fifty?! Even at fifty, there were perhaps more important things I would wish straightened. But still. . . .
Before I knew it, after a brief conference with my beloved wife -- who quite unaccountably loved me just as I was -- agreed this could be a good thing. Nancy was, for 30 years, a Health Educator, and she could reel off dozens of reasons why a good bite, regular flossing and brushing, and regular trips to the dentist have their uplifting affect and worthy effect upon good health in general.
"Show me a healthy mouth, I'll show you a healthy person. . ." and all stuff like that.
So BobS yanked my four Wisdom Teeth -- my one claim to any sort of wisdom, by the way. Then he wired me up with the then-new, nearly transparent braces, screwed everything down tight, thereby teaching me, incidentally, what real tooth-pain felt like. For just a little while in the beginning, I mean.
I learned quickly the importance of gentle brushing and chewing. And patience. Anyone who goes through such a straightening process knows full well that marching teeth around in your mouth only hurts on-schedule: the moment it doesn't hurt anymore, you get tightened down again.
That first spring I had the novel experience of delivering Commencement Addresses to ranks of graduating seniors with whom I had something special in common -- braces on our teeth. As they approached to receive their diplomas, I met them each with smiling handshakes. Their eyes would round-out in amazement, as we shOOk hands.
Written all over their faces was the astonished statement: "I thought so! This old duffer has braces on his teeth!" Their ears would prick up, too. Long as I kept it short, they would listen clear through. And respond with approval.
All of which made me wonder howcum wearing braces made me sound so much smarter. Strange phenomenon: A sore mouth somehow soothes the ears and raises the IQ?
Even the WhatchaCallit I wore for a year or two after the braces were removed made me feel smarter, as long as I didn't listen too carefully to what I was saying. In this way I was much like my graduate students. They never did listen too carefully, as I recall.
But again, I digress.
Through BobS I met PatT -- my lovely and persistent Dental Hygienist. It's Pat who nagged me hopefully for a number of years: "Flossingness is next to godliness!" Some of the most pleasant moments of my life have been spent lying back comfortably gazing happily into Pat's gorgeous face, as she whacked away happily with stainless steel instruments bravely stripping my teeth of accumulated plaque.
Until recently, that is, when along came all this raging disease peril that put all clinical faces safely behind hygiene masks. Thus does beauty bow to necessity. Sad loss.
But it was PatT who taught me to floss. Early-on, at six-month intervals she would patiently jack-hammer my teeth clear of plaque. Wore her out. "Gonna lose these gorgeous teeth, 'less you spend 20-30 seconds flossing after meals." For a few years I held to the barbarian belief that NOBODY really flosses.
But then, for some reason, it caught on with me. Three times a day, after snacks, before and after bed, while reading. Flossing became my major compulsion. Nor do these new-neat little jiffy-gizmos that come with picks & all, discourage my OCD. I can even read with one hand on the book, the other meticulously flossing away.
BobS and PatT lately provide some of the proudest moments of my life. Every once in awhile, Bob will haul out my old castings, hold up a mirror and say: "Remember the bad-good old days?!"
Or, a moment before donning her mask, PatT will grace me with her brilliant-white, perfectly-aligned smile, then express with delight: "OhMaGosh! Hardly a speck of plaque!"
During such moments, Pat T makes me feel like an Eagle Scout. Such a large transformation is no small gift. Makes me feel grateful.
I realize, however, that the ambiance I experience every six months at Robert F. Sonntaq DDS over at 4400 Fashion Square Boulevard (Saginaw, MI) is not accidental.
It's a direct result of Bob's able leadership. I try to imagine the occasional leadership meetings where he discusses how he wishes the entire office staff to greet and engage the clientele.
But such meetings aside, his own behavior sets an example of skilled human relations. The office is impeccably clean. Clients are met with warm greetings and welcoming smiles. The setting is brightly decorated and inviting. Fresh, warm coffee is offered. The schedule moves promptly. Waits are brief.
BobS, PatT or another associate fetch and lead each client to his assigned place. After a brief and courteous exchange, procedures begin immediately. There is little distinction between care and courtesy.
Both Bob and Pat are so practiced and skillful with procedures. Courtesy is always present and remarkable. You would think terms such as Please and Thank You might be considered unnecessary in a clinical setting. Not so in this setting.
Requests are quiet and reassuring:
"Please turn your head a little bit to the right toward me."
this courteous direction lightly guided with one hand.
"Oh, thank you, that's much better. . . ."
"Would it help if we rested a moment?
I'm sorry! I know your jaw must be tired"
-- this after several minutes of digging, grinding, polishing, whatever.
"Please tell me if this becomes uncomfortable"
"Time for a rinse?"
this courteous direction lightly guided with one hand.
"Oh, thank you, that's much better. . . ."
"Would it help if we rested a moment?
I'm sorry! I know your jaw must be tired"
-- this after several minutes of digging, grinding, polishing, whatever.
"Please tell me if this becomes uncomfortable"
"Time for a rinse?"
Reflect for a moment upon the countless small directions and requests that transpire in the carrying-out of a dental procedure. When each is accompanied by various terms of polite affirmation, the total affect is overwhelmingly pleasant. Painless dentistry, indeed.
There is a large billboard on the north side of I-69-West near Lansing, MI, that advertises "Painless Dentistry." A large picture of the dentist. His name and location clearly stated. I never pass that sign without picturing BobS and PatT and saying to myself: Painless Dentistry? I'll see ya, and raise ya Twenty. I'll bet any amount that guy is not nearly as good as my Saginaw team.
Strange to realize and tell: it might be that my visits to BobS and PatT may have been among the most important instructive aspects of my continuing education and training as a classroom teacher. Before I retired, I too dealt with clients on a daily basis. Requests and directions for specific movements, questions and responses, challenges and reassurances, quick reorganization of students into small groups: such were characteristic of my classroom practice.
I learned from my visits with BobS and PatT the positive impact of quiet courtesy -- among other things, such politeness reassures and lifts self-esteem. It makes students feel their attentive presence is appreciated.
Courtesy is the very hallmark of true hostmanship. Indeed, it is how we wish to make guests welcome and comfortable in our homes. Therefore, courtesy's right and appropriate in any welcoming classroom, dental clinic, or anywhere else clients present themselves.
*
One
would not
think something
as simple as Politeness
would make such a difference
for the better. But it DOES. It does,
because it says more than anything else we
might do: YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO ME!
Quiet courtesy is a gift that knows no special season.
Skilled dentistry and good dental hygiene are also always
in season.
WishingU
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
AND HAPPY TEETH!
would not
think something
as simple as Politeness
would make such a difference
for the better. But it DOES. It does,
because it says more than anything else we
might do: YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO ME!
Quiet courtesy is a gift that knows no special season.
Skilled dentistry and good dental hygiene are also always
in season.
WishingU
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
AND HAPPY TEETH!
I can't stand going to the dentist. Nice to read about someone who appreciates the experience.
ReplyDelete