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August 12, 2003
CARMARTHEN
JOURNAL A Nagging Pain in Britain: How to Find a Dentist
By LIZETTE ALVAREZ
"I said this couldn't be for us — no, this couldn't be for us,"
said Dr. Kernahan, a 25-year-old from Belfast. "And it was. It was like
a bread line." On a rainy Monday morning two weeks ago, 600 people turned up outside
Brynteg Dental Surgery, a tiny white-stucco office, to secure one of the 300
advertised appointments to see a National Health Service dentist. Wales is so lacking in government-subsidized dental treatment that some
people pitched tents overnight rather than miss a chance for a slot. Others
hopped buses from 90 miles away, only to arrive too late. A few even tried to
bribe their way onto the list. "I just assumed they were giving away mobile phones," said Steve
Acworth, who rode a bus for 75 minutes to reach Carmarthen. "The first
person I talked to I thought was joking. Then I realized that it was
absolutely serious." Not anticipating the dental mob, Mr. Acworth, 56, arrived too late, which
he said was too bad, considering he does not really have any teeth to speak
of. "My crowns all fell off," he said. "I got some really bad
dentistry and it ruined all my root work. I have no front teeth and one pair
of molars, which meet on the right side of my mouth. I can't bite
anything." Ever fewer British dentists are willing to endure the grueling,
assembly-line work required to take part in the National Health Service. On average, National Health Service dentists see 30 to 40 patients a day,
compared with the 12 a day that dentists see in the United States. The dentists here are paid an amount set by the Health Service for each
job they perform — a filling, a root canal. They make considerably less money
than private dentists, but also leave themselves open to criticism that they
do unnecessary work to line their pockets. People who seek private care must pay for it, unless they have health
insurance that covers it. Last year the Audit Commission warned that 4 of 10 dentists in England and
Wales would not accept Health Service patients, and called for structural
changes to the system. Dentists now earn half their income through private
practice, by some analysts' estimates, more than a 40 percent increase from
the numbers 10 years ago. "If you could earn more money for seeing less patients, what would
you do?" asked Mr. Kernahan, who said he saw an average of 50 patients a
day. "It's hard work. You are pushing it all the time." The situation in Carmarthen, a rural, misty outpost where the sing-song
cadence of Welsh is heard as often as English, typifies a trend that is
plaguing increasingly large parts of Britain, particularly in out-of-the-way
places. There are fewer dental schools in Britain than there once were, and fewer
dentists are being trained. Cardiff, Wales's capital, trains only 60 a year.
To make matters worse, a high percentage of dentists are nearing retirement
age or have already retired. Wales has 1,000 dentists for a population of 2.9
million, and one-third are expected to retire by 2008. As a compromise, a majority of dentists go private and accept some
government-subsidized patients on the side. Stuart Geddes, the director of the British Dental Association, said that
over the years the government had reduced National Health Service money for
dentists, forcing them to take on heavy loads to make a living. "The N.H.S. scheme down there is under pressure because it is
under-funded," Mr. Geddes said. "Dentists do go private because
they don't have to work at the same frenetic pace they do at the N.H.S., and
there is a better quality of care for the dentists." Dentists say that more and more people are waiting until the last possible
minute to get their teeth fixed, and they are forgoing routine exams and
cleaning. To make up for some of the reduced financing, the Health Service makes
grants to some dental surgeries. Brynteg Dental Surgery was able to take on
300 more patients after a grant from the Health Service allowed them to hire
another part-time dentist. The surgery, wishing to be fair, placed an
advertisement in the local newspaper two weeks before the enrollment date
with information on the extra places. Heather Davies, 25, the office manager who handed out numbers, deli style,
on the morning of registration, said she was still getting nasty phone calls
from some of the 300 people she had to turn away. People hurled curses and rude gestures at her. One man threatened her,
saying, "I know what time you get off work," Ms. Davies recounted.
She felt compelled to telephone the police. In fact, the office now has a
direct hot line to the police. "Because they are paying national insurance, people feel they are
entitled to service," Ms. Davies said. One poor man — No. 301 — simply refused to leave. He dug in, hoping for a
change of heart. "I felt sorry for him," Ms. Davies said. |