SMILESAWAY, Why Queenslanders
are flying 7000 Kilometers to got to Bangkok Smile’s
dentist.
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OUT
THE FRONT OF BANGKOK SMILE DENTAL
CLINIC, just off the manically
Sukumvhit Road, tuk-tuks blurt
their way across the intersection
and food vendors grill chicken
on an open flame. Had they walked
into the air-conditioned calm
of the clinic, they might have
picked up some tips from compatriots
on where to find the best street
food. Bruces and Sheilas bond
in the waiting room of this unofficial
Australia House, trading tips
about great bars in Pattaya and
the pitfalls of Phuket until they’re
called to discuss molars and root
canal.
The 45-year-old man sitting on
the couch, idly flicking through
beauty magazines, can claim some
responsibility. Gary Flowers has
been shepherding dentally challenged
Australians into this clinic for
18 months. A construction surveyor,
Flowers’s move into dental tourism
took shape as he studied a jumbo
full of gap-toothed Aussies on
a flight back to Brisbane from
his job in Singapore. He’d just
had some veneers and crowns put
on his teeth and was impressed
with the work and the price. An
idea sparked. Could he package
a tour, combining an Asian holiday
and dental work, for the price
you’d pay for dental work alone
in Australia?
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Yet
when confronted with a quote of
AU$30,000 for dental work as in
O’Neill’s case, or a public hospital
waiting list for a hip replacement
of up to 12 months, some of us are
prepared to take the gamble ourselves.
O’Neill and the Pennys accepted
Flowers’s testimonials without independent
investigation. They reasoned that
Thailand’s medical tourism had flourished,
technology and training improved
and that Australian dentists simply
overcharged.
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That’s not looking likely for Patricia.
She’s having her teeth X-rayed in
an adjoining room and was a little
taken aback at the concept of implants
when Sunisa mentioned them. The
idea of “cutting into my gum” makes
her squirm. When she returns with
her X-ray, Sunisa pops it up on
the screen over the examination
chair, Patricia’s decision is suddenly
casier. Her sinuses are too low;
meaning implants would require a
bone graft.
Her response is brief. “Forget it.”
Bridges it is. However, one of the
anchor teeth on the bottom right
side is not rooted well enough to
support a bridge. Sermsakul is consulted
and agrees, leaving Patricia to
consider an implant.
O’Neill will undergo her own improvements
next week after spending much of
the first week having bridges removed,
her teeth whitened, and X-rays and
mouth moulds organised. Her root
canal has been redone and one of
the clinic’s in-house periodontists
has spent two hours cleaning her
gums.
She has no problems with the clinic’s
professionalism. “They are brilliant,
they just listen and they’re so
quick and efficient and gentle.
Couldn’t be better.” She loved the
complimentary foot massage she received
during the teeth whitening and the
fact they stayed open into the night,
or worked weekends, to satisfy foreign
clients.
She is bucking their advice, though,
and insisting on having veneers
placed on five of her front teeth.
“I’ve thought about it, and it’s
what I want to do, for me,” she
says. “I don’t drink ... much,”
she says, remembering the night
of the hawkers. “I don’t smoke,
I don’t go to nightclubs. This is
what I want.”
She counts all implants, crowns
and bridges as cosmetic work and
argues that a place like Bangkok
Smile is more likely to take time
with clients than a “busy run-of-the-mill
dentist doing a good health job,
trying to keep people’s teeth going”.
Bangkok Smile
says it has a strict system guarding
against cross-infection and uses
the autoclave system of sterilization,
with headpieces also going into
the machine — highlighted as important
by Coates — at 135 degrees Celsius.
Of course, there are excellent
dentists in Asia, says Cones,
and some not-so-good practitioners
here. “It’s just I would be very
selective about who I went to
in Asia. Whereas in Australia,
90 percent of the time I could
be a lot less selective.”
AFTER SIX HOURS IN THE DENTIST’S
CHAIR, Patricia Penny is in a
coffee shop munching on a ham
and cheese waffle “with a full
mouth of teeth”. It’s a great
sensation, she says. Allan’s also
feeling better.
Patricia’s had two bridges and
a set of crowns fitted today in
addition to a trickier bridge
put on earlier in the week. She’s
had her teeth whitened — and the
foot massage — and her veneers
of 16 years removed. Four new
front ones will go on next week.
The bill, which includes X-rays,
came to AU$10O
Another session at the clinic
discussing options convinced the
Pennys to research implants further.
Allan will get his fillings done,
however, for about AU$30 each.
"At the end of the day, I’ve
got a foil mouth of teeth in a
matter of hours,” she adds, tucking
into an ice-cream sundae but putting
aside the nuts. “It’s all over,
that’s the amazing part. And I
never felt they were rushing,
or pushing. It was just like the
dentists at home, really.”
JOAN O’NEILL HAS WALKED THE BRIDGE
OVER THE River Kwai, rejected
the advances of foot masseuses
in the night markets and bought
a ‘r-shin that reads “Care u Teeth”.
She and Napth inc-Smith mastered
the Bangkok Sky Train giggling
every time they heard Nana station
announced — and filled a bag full
of treasures. They were wary when
they left Thailand. “We had so
many laughs,” says O’Neill.
Over coffee on the Mooloolaba
Esplanade, O’Neill tells how her
Thailand adventure has meant more
to her than an (almost) new set
of teeth. It’s broadened her horizons
and improved her attitude toward
Asians. “Like 95 per cent of Australians,
I was very ignorant. We get cranky
when they speak in their lingo
here hut we expect them to speak
our language when we’re there,
and they do. So I admire them.
The way they have to live is horrendous,
the city is filthy, but they’re
wonderful people.”
She smiles, revealing her gleaming,
veneered front teeth. The sight
inside her mouth is not as pretty.
What look like metal rings can
be seen sticking out from inside
the gum. Metal Mouth, as she is
now known to friends, admits to
a moment of panic when the dental
surgeon began the implants. “I
wasn’t seared until that second
and I was thinking, ‘please, please
don’t stuff this up’. He numbed
me, but I could feel the pressure
of the cut into the gum and then
I felt the explosion of the blood.”
Next came a drill, and the sensation
of the surgeon ratcheting a screw
into the hole. Two weeks after
the implants, she’s still on antibiotics
and hasn’t tackled a steak. She
probably won’t until after she
returns in six months for the
crowns. An old Bangkok hand now,
the prospect of going back is
not as scary
Courier
Mail : Qweekend, October
21-22, 2006.
Story
Leisa Scott Photography Russell
Shakespeare |
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| Aussie
Dental Tours was born. After a false
start in the Philippines (“It’s
cheaper but we had too many complaints”),
Flowers turned to Thailand. lie
hit the internet and hooked up with
Dr Sermsakul Wongtiraporn of Bangkok
Smile. Known to Australian patients
as Dr Bob, Sermsakul, studied for
his degree and graduate diploma
in Bangkok before working in dental
implantology in UCLA, in the United
States. To date, Flowers has sent
about 100 Australians to his three
clinics in Bangkok — and claims
there have been no complaints.
Flowers’s spiel is straightforward:
save up to 70 per cent on dental
work. He offers an escorted tour,
the type O’Neill is on, for about
$2800, including airfares and 14
days’ accommodation with breakfasts.
Otherwise, if you’re seasoned travelers
like Patricia and Allan Penny, the
Caloundra retirees also waiting
on the couch, he’ll organize an
appointment and information pack
for less than $100.
Patricia calls herself a “teeth
person”. Like O’Neill, who’s now
upstairs with a dentist, she’s “just
got a thing about teeth”. Twelve
months ago she had a tooth pulled
for AU$320. Bangkok Smile quotes
AU$25 for a simple extraction, AU$120
for the trickiest of wisdom teeth.
She learned of such differences
after ADT advertised in her local
paper. ‘l’he 68-year-old had been
thinking about investing in dental
bridges for four gaps in her mouth
that she thought were forcing her
to overuse her front teeth. Given
they were traveling to Bangkok en
route to Russia.and Spain, Allan
told her, “Just do it”.
So here they sit, waiting for their
consultation. Allan’s going to ask
about replacing his old amalgams.
He thinks they could be contributing
to his unsettled gut. Patricia is
also keen to veneer some teeth but
she’s got no idea what all the work
she wants is going to cost. Her
“excellent” Sunshine Coast dentist
charges AU$160 for a quote. “I’m
thinking [it will cost] about AU$3000,”
she says, as her eyes turn to the
commotion coming from upstairs.
O’Neill is clack-clacking her way
down the stairs in white strappy
sandals (she hopes to get a good
deal on some joggers here). Her
words are unclear, but she sounds
cranky. With her is Wendy Napthine
Smith, her sister, a quieter yin
to O’Neill’s theatrical yang, here
to lend moral and post-dental support.
O’Neill stares at Flowers, giving
every indication she’s going to
rip through him. She’s already complained
about her hard bed at the hotel,
and he looks worried. Slowly, she
moves her thumb downward. “Australian
dentists,” she says. Then, raising
the same thumb, she says, “Thai
dentists.”
FOREIGN
MEDICOS HAVE HARDLY ENJOYED A BIG
rap in Queensland since the exposure
of the deadly work of Indian-trained
surgeon Jayant Patel A costly inquiry
has been held and protocols set
up to ensure overseas medical recruits
meet Australian standards and work
only in their approved disciplines.
We rightly complained the government
had been gambling with our health.
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The fact is, Australia has a dental
dilemma: we’re chronically low on
dentists and we need a lot of work.
Adult decay rates are the second
worst among OECI) countries, hut
we will be short 1500 dentists within
four years. It’s reasonable to conclude
the basic law of supply and demand
is factored into the pricing policies
of private clinics overwhelmed by
patients, but the Australian Dental
Association’s CEO, lawyer Robert
Boyd-Boland, denies it. He says
prices have risen in step with the
cost of health provision.
Economies certainly kick-started
Thailand’s positioning as the world
leader in medical tourism. And it’s
only going to get bigger and more
influential, according to Ruben
Toral, the slick American marketing
man for Bumruograd International,
the five-star, up-to-the-minute
Bangkok private hospital that takes
credit for launching Thailand’s
medical tourism juggernaut. The
Asian financial crisis of 1997 hit
the Land of Smiles just as the US-managed,
Thai-owned Bumrungrad Hospital Public
Company Ltd finished building its
bedazzling 554-bed facility aimed
at treating wealthy Thais and expatriates.
The Thai baht collapsed. “Overnight,”
says ‘Toral, “our $US9O million
debt became a $180 million debt”.
Costs doubled and Thais who once
could afford private health went
back to the public system. Patients
had to he found. Singapore was the
region’s referral hub and Bumrungrad
went on a marketing offensive, luring
Singapore’s clients from South-East
Asia. “We said, ‘Look, you’re all
going to Singapore, which is a hard
currency’,” Toral says. “We have
high-quality doctors, a five- star
facility and prices 50 to 70 per
cent cheaper than Singapore. Come
try us.”
UPSTAIPS IN ONE OF BANGKOK SMILE’S
COMPACT consulting rooms1 Dr. Sunisa
Jueng JitRak is reexamining the
X-ray that sent O’Neill into a spin
and down on Australian dentists,
to be fair, she was already halfway
there. She’s suffered teeth problems
for six years and has shopped around
Queensland dentists trying to find
relief she’d already spent about
$12,000 on extractions, root canal,
crowns and bridges before deciding
to check out Thailand.
Sunisa
has agreed to show me the cause
of O’Neill’s dummy-spit. She point
to a root canal on an upper front
tooth towards the left, and explains
it has not been filled to the apex.
It’s about 3mm short, not sealing
off the roots from bacteria. It’s
infected.
Sunisa, though, is not as keen to
dump on her fellow dental professionals
as O’Neill. “This can happen to
any general dental practitioner,”
she says in English. “It could last
forever without any symptoms, but
we cannot be sure.” The pain and
swelling O’Neill complains of is
what makes Sunisa believe the root
canal needs attention.
(As
O’Neill was singing ‘Thai dentists’
praises downstairs, I asked why
she was convinced a dentist she’d
just met was more credible than
those in Australia. “Because she
is thorough,” she replied. “Because
she cares. I’ve been in there an
hour-and- a-half and she’s listened,
the bloody dentist back home just
said, ‘It’s receding gums, take
Panadol’.”)
O’Neill’s
consultation helps seal her plan
to have five dental implants. Including
two in the place of bridges she
will have removed. She’s had hepatitis
B injections in readiness. She hates
how food gets stuck underneath a
bridge, a false tooth that is attached
to teeth on either side but not
embedded into the gum.
Implants
are a more aggressive form of tooth
replacement hut leave adjoining
teeth untouched. A dental surgeon
implants a titanium fixture resembling
a screw into the jawbone to act
like the root of a tooth. The best
result is achieved if a crown is
fitted to the implant after three
to nine months — which means O’Neill
will need to make a return trip.
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