Surgery Center for Dentistry touches lives of patients
by Doyle Nick, SD'78, PG'94, assistant professor of restorative dentistry

The Surgery Center for Dentistry is now in its new home facility, and by now the excitement has died down a bit, and the initial adjustment is complete. It almost feels normal to be there. I have treated patients under general anesthesia for some years now and I continue to enjoy it very much. I am writing this to introduce the function of this area and to report on why I enjoy this work so much.

The patients treated in this facility fall into three groups. A small percentage is made up of those individuals who are so medically compromised that the traditional dental care setting poses a threat to their health, or who are so phobic that the only treatment option is general anesthesia. The second group is made up of children who, because of age or temperament, are unable to cooperate with a dental professional. The third group are people of all ages who, because of disease, trauma, or genetics, are mentally or developmentally unable to be treated without the benefit of general anesthesia.

This setting is interesting and challenging. Some of the children we see suffer from various degrees of familial ignorance, neglect, or abuse. Many of them not only have a heartbreaking lack of dental health, but display anxiety and/or aggression rare in people of their tender age.

Some people view developmentally disadvantaged people as unlovely to look at and unpleasant to treat. The sights, sounds, and smells can be unpleasant and the unfairness of life can be overpowering. There is a dulling hopelessness to dental treatment, partially or completely, unsupported by home care.

So why do I enjoy working in this environment? For two excellent reasons.

The first reason is the people with whom I am privileged to work. There is a unity of purpose and a common determination that motivates about two dozen widely diverse individuals. On a good day, the entire department hums like precision machinery. Even on the worst of days there is a commonality of understanding and experience that results in wonderful cooperation and timing.

The people who work in the Surgery Center are people of humor, flexibility and compassion. They will laugh when they read the word "compassion," because in the face of unrelenting misery and need, people develop a crusty protection of cynicism and flippancy. If one watches, however, compassion is evident everywhere: front office staff patiently listening to the occasional shrill complaint; anesthesia residents telling elaborate stories to children to ease the fear of "going to sleep;" recovery nurses gently bathing dirty faces and cuddling the frightened.

The second reason I appreciate working with general anesthesia professionals is the chance to answer a tremendous need. Dedication and intellectual application are needed to develop the special skills necessary to treat these patients. Each member of the treatment team feels satisfaction in the ability to touch the lives of some of these least lucky people.

Young mother's fears relieved

A young mother brought her two and one-half year-old daughter to the School of Dentistry because the child had fallen and broken her front teeth. Although the little girl was only slightly anxious, the gingival tissues were very sore and swollen. She wasn't old enough to allow us to determine if the teeth were merely chipped and intruded, or badly fractured. After general anesthetic was administered, radiographs and clinical examination showed that the accident had resulted in Class II fractures and intrusion. The treatment of choice was to smooth the ragged edges and observe developments. I walked out the reception area to inform the mother, who was maybe 17 or 18 years old. I told her the teeth would probably be okay, what she might expect in the future, and how we might address the various possible complications.

As we spoke, I saw in her face a deep concern and uncertainty. She asked a number of thoughtful questions and listened attentively to my answers. As I turned to leave, she awkwardly held out her hand as if to shake mine and when I extended my hand she took it with both of hers and clung to me so that I turned back to her. I tried again to reassure her again that her daughter's teeth had a good chance of being healthy and that we could likely solve any pulpal complications or esthetic concerns in the future.

After promising that her little one would be out soon, I left her, but her vulnerable gesture left me strangely moved and a little shaken. This girl-woman who was a mother instead of a boy-crazy coed, made me wish that I had told her how wonderful her daughter was. I wish I could have told her she was a good mother and a noble person. I wish I could make some positive difference in her life. Maybe in the future, I will be better prepared to make a difference in someone else's life.

"Inasmuch as you have done it for one of the least of these my brothers, you have done it for me."

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