My 'day job' (dental hygienist) brings me into close contact with a wide variety of people. On a typical afternoon, at least one total stranger walks in my door. Ten minutes later, I know his entire medical history and he's allowing me to stick my fingers in his mouth. This forced intimacy has been good training, helping me overcome my basic shyness. And, surprisingly, it's now one of the aspects of the work that I appreciate most. I've established some lasting friendships over the years through these cozy, biannual visits and struck up conversations with interesting people I wouldn't otherwise have had a chance to know - cops on the beat, professional athletes, immigrants, artists, and master craftsmen. The people: that's what keeps the otherwise-repetitive work from being boring.
But yesterday, filling in for a gal on maternity leave, I had a patient who reminded me to be grateful for most of the others. This older man arrived grumpy, probably dissatisfied with life in general and expecting a dental visit to make it considerably worse. Things only went downhill from there. Everything hurt. Everything cost too much. Where was his regular hygienist? And why wasn't I doing things the way I had no way of knowing he preferred? Contrast that with the attitude of a dear, elderly little lady I remember well. She was a widow and had a list of medical problems as long as your arm, including two kinds of cancer to which she had lost various body parts and functions. Yet she praised God and told me how blessed her life had been, her smile lighting up the room.
Part of my job is to educate patients. But I often learn as much from them as they do from me. While I scale their teeth, I sometimes pick their brains for useful bits of information - i.e. how to contest a traffic citation or what's the best engineering school for my son. I'll try to keep in mind the larger life-lessons they teach me as well. Although I'm afraid I'm more naturally pessimistic like the man from yesterday, I'd prefer to be remembered as my other patient, someone who passed through this life and into the next with gentle dignity and grace.
