The Price of Success

How are you? No, really, how do you feel? 130/70, or near? Dentistry is not exactly chicken soup for the soul after all; there’s a lot of stress. The mere fact that dentists are wholesale dispensers of stress doesn’t mean that we are immune to it ourselves.

The Los Angeles Times, in a recent article, reminds us once again that "various surveys have indicated that the rates of suicide, drug and alcohol addiction and job burnout are higher [with dentists] than those of comparable professions."

Is this a good idea, pointing out to dentists that theirs is an essential profession, trusted perhaps, but on a popularity scale of 1 to 10, rated a weak 3 by the public, just ahead of telemarketers? Is it prudent to remind us that self-destructionwise we are right up there with lemmings and mosh pit devotees? Is a happy dentist simply an unaware dentist?

"Dentists," says the Times, "are sensitive, hard-working and skilled at their craft." When one of us sensitive types comes across these alarming statistics, we become introspective, wondering what price success?

Self: As a dentist, I should be profoundly unhappy. But I’m only moderately morose. Sometimes, like Wednesday afternoon, I’m verging on being marginally content. I need to look into this a little more; I may be missing something.

Impact from this kind of news is so enervating to many of us that the American Dental Association has established programs to address professional and personal burnout. At one such program might be encountered motivational guru Tony Robbins, whose persona has been likened to that of a Cape buffalo on crystal meth. Apparently, his technique of manic enthusiasm is captivating enough to enthrone him on television, a sort of Richard Simmons for the psyche minus the frizzy hair and shorts. At any given moment, day or night, his infomercials are being beamed to the faithful, lusting to exchange their lives of quiet desperation for that of a Power Ball winner.

David K. Okano of Rock Springs, Wyo., who chairs the ADA’s dentist well-being advisory committee, claims the reason for dentists’ discomfiture is that "compared to physicians, we are much more isolated." You would recognize this truth if you’ve cooled your heels in an over-crowded ER or an HMO waiting room recently where the activity can sometimes resemble the rush to get on the last helicopter out of Saigon.

The fact that dentists even have a well-being advisory committee is sobering if you were not aware that we needed one. Immured as we are in our operatories, even lighthouse keepers, monks in isolated monasteries, and firewatchers atop remote towers in national forests seem to enjoy a more flourishing human contact in contrast.

It should be comforting then to know that here and there about the nation are centers devoted to the duality of dentistry. Seattle, Las Vegas, St. Petersburg and Key Biscayne are becoming magnets for a certain breed of dentist. Practitioners pursuing the chimera of perfection can attend one of these institutions to learn from experts how to create the most exquisite dental work possible. Embedded in the technical information is the inclusion of a philosophy that teaches them to regain a balance between work and spirituality. While polishing up their digital skills, their psyche’s equilibrium may be getting a makeover as well.

It is probably safe to estimate that of the 200,000 dentists in the nation, maybe only about 15 percent have had the drive, the ambition and the willingness to strive for perfection. So what is the secret here? Is it genes, luck, upbringing? Why is it one kid matures to be a run-of-the-mill, middle-of-the-pack dentist such as -- no offense -- you and another grows up to become a Fauchard or a G.V. Black?

Did Monsieur and Madame Fauchard impart to young Pierre some key to success that put him on the path to becoming No. 1? Or is it something any of us could achieve if we were willing to work hard, keep a positive attitude and perhaps, above all, an extremely positive balance in our checkbooks?

Because the secrets don’t come cheap. At one Mecca for the pursuit of excellence, they are divulged in a series of seven "Continuums." Should he or she undertake the whole series, the dentist’s coffers, to be on a par with his or her ambitions, must total at least $21,150 to avoid overdraft charges. Eight other courses ranging from "High Impact Management" to "Predictable Complete Dentures" can add another $19,200 to the pursuit. If insolvency is one of the prime reasons for the dentist’s discontent, this E-ticket outlay is not going to result in more restful nights.

The renown L.D. Pankey Institute for Advanced Dental Education in Florida was one of the first to recognize that there may be as many holes in the dentist’s soul as in his patients’ teeth. When the Pankey Institute opened its doors to postgrad students in 1972, it had a single goal in mind: to promote excellence in dentistry. It was further refined to bridge the gap between clinical and managerial skills with the belief that becoming adept in these two areas would redefine "success" in the average dentist’s mind.

The "average dentist," if there is such an animal, comes out of school with a limited awareness of the business of dentistry. It’s like learning to drive a VW and then being given the keys to a 18-wheeler. The fledgling dentist can exit his cocoon to confront the waiting world many thousands of dollars in debt. This may still be unresolved a decade later. If they equate success with solvency, small wonder that many dentists, mending broken teeth and dentures, find themselves in need of repair.

Somehow it all works out and is worth the candle according to participants. The average five-day course at the Pankey Institute costs $3,200, plus lodging in a nearby condominium. Graduate George Warga, 40, of Winnetka, Ill., says, "I’ve been here 10 times in the last three years. The visits have kept me in practice." In spite of the fact that each week away from the office costs him an estimated $18,000, Warga says the price is right.

"At age 28, I was going to leave dentistry, but now I’m enjoying myself. I will practice as long as I can." He didn’t mention the Power Ball.