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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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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”.
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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.
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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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.
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. |
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