Saul N. Miller, D.D.S., Editor
The mail delivery did not contain insurance checks or patient payments, but there was a request for transfer of records for Mr. O'Neill to Dr. Smiles. Great . . . a postal hat trick – not only did I not get paid, but I was losing a fine long-term patient at the same time. Of course, we all know where our new patients come from . . . someone else's patients. We blink the wrong way and, poof, they're gone. My sadness was somewhat ameliorated, however, when I noted that Mr. O'Neill had moved to a retirement community near Dr. Smiles' office. I had treated Mr. O'Neill, his wife (recently deceased) and his children (now AARP eligible); I would miss him, yet I understood the difficulty in making such a momentous move from his house to the new living arrangement.
A couple days later, Mr. O'Neill came to the office. Although capable of driving, it was suggested that he avoid it, if possible. Nevertheless, he drove to thank us for the 33 years of care, and to say he was sorry that he would no longer be able to come to our office. We chatted, wished one another good health and shook hands. Life is good! At 88, it was certainly better that he leave the practice this way.
Rita and I savored the kindness and thoughtfulness of our patient of 33 years, as we shared a Twix bar to toast Mr. O’Neill. We were honored and happy that he and many other fine people allow us to care for them. We also noted, as we have numerous times in the past, what a genius the creator of Twix was . . . chocolate, cookie, caramel . . . amazing, just amazing.
As the day progressed, I started to crunch the numbers, as opposed to the Twix cookie crunch. I started my practice when I was 32 years old. Mr. O’Neill was in our practice from the beginning, and we cared for him for 33 years. That meant that I was (YIKES!!) 65 years old, or certainly making the final approach to it. I must admit that I did have a bit of a problem with the concept of being 40. The 50’s and 60-63, I didn’t think about much; but when 64 hit, I started to take notice. It was not so much that I was 64 and talking to the tower about landing on runway 65, but it just seemed to happen so fast. This is a bit like “If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.” Well, I am in reasonably good shape for an old guy. I certainly get more sleep than most people and am in better riding shape than many of my younger cycling friends. I also eat the right foods, along with the occasional Twix, Pepperidge Farm cookies and Rita’s Water Ice.
We have learned that we must plan for the future, and we are told that we should live each day as if it is our last. These concepts, however, are not mutually exclusive. Skydivers must pack the parachute before they make their jumps. We have to plan for tomorrow and the future, as it may be, but we still have to make it through today. I have a dear friend who survived a major bike accident, only to be diagnosed with a brain tumor while he was recovering from the crash. Other friends of my vintage have been relieved rather unceremoniously of the jobs that they expected to enjoy for the next five to ten years. Life is not necessarily easy, fair or good. We want to plan the perfect appointment schedule, but we must focus on that one patient in the chair at that time.
As in the lyrics of a song I heard last year, “I ain’t worried about tomorrow, I’m just thinkin’ about today.”
A couple people in my special focus group mentioned the above paragraphs “were good so far, but it needed an ending, a conclusion.” Well, it did not have a beginning or middle, so why did it need an ending? Anyway, I respect their advice, so here it is. The same day that Mr. O’Neill visited us, I was scheduled to deliver three crowns for a patient with a very difficult occlusion. Even with extreme attention to detail, including narrative and pictures sent to the lab, it took two hours to deliver two crowns and determine that the third required a remake. Oh, and did I mention that the patient was 35 minutes late, could not keep his mouth open because he kept falling asleep, asked more questions than at least five inquisitive patients, and has not yet paid his co-pay. So much for planning ahead.
Maybe the best long range planning just involves buying green bananas.
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