I seldom travel to the dentist. And by seldom I mean like once in 10 years or so. I am gifted with what dentist call “bad mouth flora”. In terms that you and I can understand, what the dentist means is that the inside of my mouth secrets acids that eat away at any leftover food parcels stuck between my teeth. Why is that “bad” I hear you asking? Because it means I don’t have to go to the dentist! I haven’t had a cavity in my entire life. Now that’s “bad” for the dentist.
Recently, I started to have one tooth that felt like it had a cavity. But, as mentioned above, I don’t even know what a cavity feels like so after some encouragement from my wife ( who sees the dentist about as often as she her hairstylist), I decided to see what the dentist had to say.
For most people, the ones fortunate enough to have dental insurance and are able-bodied, that’s not such a big deal. But for me, because I rely upon Medicare and I have to find a dentist that will accommodate my wheelchair, it’s a big deal. My wife gave her dentist a call and they said they would gladly accommodate me.
Now here begins the part of the story where you can compare your dentist with mine and I’ll bet that my dentist can beat up your dentist! First, my dentist has their practice in a very upscale business park. We take the elevator to the second floor and when we walk in the door we are greeted with a 16 foot high by 20 foot wide waterfall that immediately soothes my dental nerves. From behind the waterfall steps a receptionist with a beautiful smile. She reassuringly states, “Welcome Gimpa. We are running on time so your appointment will start in just a few minutes. Please take a seat in our reception area and enjoy our refreshments.” My first thought is, “they are running on time…on time? Is not this a dental practice?” The reception area is spacious and looks more like the lobby of a posh Hilton Hotel. There is a large flatscreen HDTV playing a sequence out of “Planet Earth”. No sound, just soothing reptiles.
My wife walks over to what looks like a snack buffet. There is everything there from pretzels to apples and cold bottled water. I’m beginning to understand why my wife comes here so often. Soon, right on time, a hygienist emerges from behind the waterfall, introduces herself to me and says that she will accompany me back to my appointment. She asks Tawnya if she wants to wait in the “Zen Room”? My wife eagerly takes her up on the offer and makes her own way, oh yes, she knows the way,to the Zen room. I’m curious so I ask “my” hygienist on the way back to my appointment just exactly what is a Zen room. She explains that it is a soundproof room with a high tech massage chair, a sound system that rivals any theater, and choices of music to listen to or movies to watch. It is actually used as a recovery room, you know like when you have your wisdom teeth “slipped” out and the anesthesia makes you feel like you could melt into the floor which is great if you’re in a massage chair, but, it turns out to not be so great for driving.
We reach our destination which is a nice big private room which can easily accommodate my wheelchair. The hygienist quickly and efficiently does her part without ever scolding me about not flossing enough. Suddenly, almost magically, the dentist appears at my side and leans my wheelchair back as if he’s done it a million times. While I’m still trying to figure out where he came from, he is already into my "dental experience". No cavity. My tooth is cracked all the way through down to the bone. My mouth goes numb and my dentist very quickly and efficiently “slips” out my tooth. No asking me questions while my mouth is full of instruments and fingers. No small talk with the hygienist about the pool he’s putting in or the new convertible Jaguar he just bought. All professional.
During my "dental experience", I noticed that a couple of hygienists had came into the room and whispered something to my hygienist. She mentioned something to my dentist along the lines of, “Dr. Hammond is on it.” After the experience, while my mouth was being loaded with gauze, my dentist, Dr. Ellis, made sure I was okay and then excused himself to see what he could do to help Dr. Hammond. After sufficiently gauzing my mouth, my hygienist asks, “How do you feel about spending the night here?” I flashed her a questioning squint and she said, “Well, currently, the elevator is not working.” And then quickly, “But, both doctors and several others are working on it. The fire department has been called. I’m sure it will be fixed soon.” She accompanied me out.
The scene around the elevator was nothing short of a one-act comedy. It reminded me of when you’re working on your car with your hood up and 12 of your closest neighbors are gazing at the exposed engine and nodding their heads like they’re pretty sure they know exactly what to do…only they don’t! Dr. Hammond and Dr. Ellis are asking intelligent dentist-like questions which get stuck in the gaze of the firemen. The firemen, who are treating this like a cat stuck in a tree, ask about outside porches. For a few minutes there is discussion about just picking me up in my chair off a second-story porch with one of their fire engine cherry pickers. The look of terror in my eyes must have scuttled that discussion. They push on with the theory of putting me in a stair chair, yes, they actually have such a thing called a stair chair, which is meant to lower people downstairs who are incapable of doing it themselves, like me. But the stairs look like something you would see out of a movie or in an exquisite hotel. Certainly not the type of stairs you want to ruin with a stair chair. That became their last alternative. While dentists, hygienists, and firemen are working on the stuck elevator, my hygienist invites me back inside to the waiting area and asks if I would like any stacks or water. Having my mouth full of gauze, I had to turn her down and she motioned to the HDTV. My wife opted to wait in the “Zen Room”. Of course! I’m trapped, may have to spend the night here, and she’s okay with that because she has the “Zen Room”.
A call goes out to the elevator company, but they are days away. Then a brilliant idea flashes through the group. We don’t need “maintenance people” because we are not in maintenance mode, we are in broken mode and we need “repair technicians”. The call goes out to the BYU “elevator repair technicians”. Of course, a college with hundreds of elevators would have “repair technicians”. No one wants to miss their final test stuck in an elevator. So, of course, they have “repair technicians”. Six more guys arrive on the scene and stare at the open elevator door. But not just any stare, this is the stare of an “elevator repair technician”. Quickly their stares turn into “the solution”. They decide to lower me down manually. Who knew that an elevator could be run manually? I’m still not quite sure how they did this, but they put me in the elevator with two firemen on their walkie-talkies, I guess to protect me in case the manual option suddenly failed. Did they do it hand over hand? I don’t know and they wouldn’t tell me. I guess it’s a trade secret thing only to be known by the “elevator repair technicians”. Thanks to the dentists, hygienists, Provo fire department, and BYU repair technicians I made it safely down and out to the gathering crowd outside. I waited a few more minutes while my wife finished her Zen session and we were on our way.
So, here we go, the five signs of a great dentist:
- Accommodates quadriplegics with wheelchairs
- Accepts cash and is flexible with payments
- Free cold water and a snack buffet
- Zen room for recovery and stressed-out spouses
- Accompanies patients down the elevator!
So if you’re looking for a new dentist or a different dental experience, check out Hammond & Ellis in Provo, Utah. If you’re coming in from out of town, be sure and ask for their free night's lodging in the Zen room! Just kidding you have to pay for your own lodging, but don’t forget there’s a snack buffet!
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