Every aspiring writer will remember the moment he/she first broke into print. It was a moment of elation for me. I almost felt like my words have been cast in stone and immortalised me. Whether it be poems or short stories in the newspapers or literary magazines, I’ve always used my real name, but I’ve also quite consistently declared myself as unemployed. Even when my books hit the shelves, I only identified myself as a “health professional”. In one TV program, I stood as a freelance writer. From literary magazines, I plunged into the pool of glossy, glitzy commercial magazines and book publication. From technical articles to travel, romance, translations, I wrote them all. I was very comfortable with my identity as a writer, as somehow, even back then, there was something terribly uncool about being a dentist. But paper can’t hold a flame and as I became better known, word got out that I’m actually a dentist.
Rare, unlikely and therefore interesting. There was a full page feature on me – the writer/dentist. It was a glaring piece of publicity, but the celebration aside, I could feel in my bones that something was amiss. Then, came a disturbing knock on my door. The association took issue with the publicity I was getting. I was asked to explain. But as any intelligent reader can see, what is there to explain? So the only thing left to do, was to apologise. As Chow Yuen Fatt said 忍一时风平浪静，退一步海阔天空. It doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong. The important thing is not to get eaten in the jungle. 同行如劲敌. There is really no difference between dentistry and any other seemingly less respectable businesses. Barely 3 years after graduation and I’d lost my innocence.
I did not renew my membership with the association ever since. To many people who just got to know me, I seem to be very passionate about dentistry. But after this incident (circa 1991), dentistry became just a source of income to feed my passion for writing and travelling. Toothfully (truth be told), I had a lot of respect for the profession. It’s just that the unreasonable demands from rowdy patients in the heartlands and the total lack of pride and support from members of the profession for one who is a writer (who doesn’t have a million-dollar collection of violins), shattered my initial starry-eyed image of a cohesive fraternity.
For a long while, I kept a very low profile and became much better known outside rather than inside the dental fraternity. My name was mentioned on a weekly basis in a travelogue serialised in our local newspaper. No mention that I was a dentist. Some in the fraternity may not even have noticed that it was me. Just as well. To some members of the public, I was even trying to deny that I was a dentist in a society where lawyers, teachers and arts graduates formed the bulk of the writing community. Just as well. I was happier without the need to explain myself all the time. Telling people I’m a dentist might have made them wonder if I was some armchair adventurer who only knew how to play golf.
Then, some years later (circa 2004), Dr Asha from the National Dental Health Foundation heard about me. She approached me and asked if I could help her with some newsletter editing and public education. She did a feature on me as a writer and adventurer in the association’s journal. The page had a picture of me in my climbing gear, standing on the summit of Mera Peak (6476m) in Nepal. Unknown to some in the association, I was not even one of their members at that time. This time, there were no complaints. Instead, I had calls from former lecturers and other “colleagues” trying to get re-acquainted.
I didn’t want to have anything to do with the association but the Foundation’s noble mission touched me. I found time to churn out the newsletter for the Foundation whose chief objective was to educate the public on dental health issues. It struck a chord in me as I’ve always believed that public education should always take precedence over our own continuing education. An educated public automatically generates demand for high end, high quality dentistry and with increased demand for advanced dentistry, no dentist would be foolish enough not to equip himself to cater to that demand. Leave the dinosaurs alone. They have their own group of patients whom they will continue to service very well until both peter out. Encourage continuing education, but there is really no need to make it compulsory.
I suggested to Dr Asha about giving public talks. She warned me that from her experience, attendance at the public talks at Community Centres and workplaces had always been miserably low. Are we surprised? Let’s face it. And I’m not going to waste time arguing with anyone who disagrees because I know it’s the truth – nobody will want to sit down and listen to a talk on the tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth.
I suggested organising a roller-blading get-together. There are some dentists who roller-blade. We can get them to come down, promote the sport to some seniors who can manage it, then talk about visiting a dentist to make a mouthguard to protect your teeth while roller-blading. Or organise a makeup workshop. Get makeup artists to demonstrate on volunteers, then we demonstrate “dental makeup” like bleaching, bonding etc. Or better still, get an ice cream eating competition going and then teach people about tooth sensitivity. That’s the way you promote and educate! Sadly, I received absolutely no help. Everybody was too busy building up his/her own practice to contribute towards a common good. That’s not the worst part. There were actually many pompous others who disagreed with associating noble dentistry with “lesser” topics like makeup and roller-blading. When Dr T from the dental association then approached me for help with their publications and publicity, I had to exercise enormous restraint to reject him politely. I have my ideas, but I can’t work in a virtual strait jacket.
Fast forward to the present day. I haven’t done much literary work lately, but I put my writing and publishing experience to good use in putting up a very popular fan page on Facebook. Yes, it’s about dull and boring dentistry. But surprising or not, I had more than 2450 fans. I showcased my work on the fan page. That attracted more patients and more fans. Things just snowballed. To keep the fans interested (no easy task in this day and age), I had to provide varied and interesting content, mostly health, food and beauty related. The page was a great success. It contributed tremendously to the building of my new practice in town. None of the “experts” in website marketing came close to my return on investment. For the first time in my career, I was enjoying work.
Again, came that dreaded knock on my door. Somebody complained that my page, first of all, showed before and after clinical pictures which are not permitted under the private clinic publicity regulations. Following up on that, the complainant found my fan page “distasteful” because of the pictures of pretty women posing on my chair.
“What’s so distasteful? You’ll find far more revealing pictures in a women’s magazine. There are dental practices advertising in those magazines too.” I argued. Maybe the complainant would keep quiet if I had put more hunky men to suit his orientation, but that’s not the point. Even teenagers’ magazines I once wrote for had far more revealing pictures. Dentists were employed as judges in beauty pageants with swimsuit competitions. Distasteful? But it got even more ridiculous.
“We’re afraid you may end up putting naked women …” mumbled the officer.
“Of course not! I know what is appropriate and what isn’t. I also have writeups on food.”
“Food? What does food have to do with dentistry?” asked the puzzled officer.
“You need a good set of teeth to enjoy your food.”
I almost wanted to say that good teeth improve your smile and confidence, making you look more beautiful, but I guess he might not get it. He’s a nice guy, but the discussion was not getting anywhere.
“Eh… well, if you can explain it that way… but why can’t you keep it clean?” he asked.
“Clean?”
“Just talk about dentistry and nothing else.”
Here we go again. If I can’t put my own clinical pictures on the site, am I going to put someone else’s pictures? Cartoons, maybe? If I can’t put those, what can I put? One man’s creative marketing is another man’s distasteful content. No wonder the public is so ignorant and so uninterested in dentistry. No wonder they fail to understand our difficulties – that dentures don’t work like real teeth and implants are not perfect. Dentists are expected to be busy drilling, filling and playing golf. There is indeed something inherently uncool about being a dentist in Singapore.
I’ve said this before on my fan page after we have been directed to make changes. I either do something well, or I don’t do it at all. Like many writers and artists who have gone overseas, I’m going to do the ultimate unpatriotic thing. I’m not migrating (yet) but I’m going to return the fan page to its original form and block out all Singapore users. Prof Wong from NUS (my schoolmate in JC) had this interesting exchange with me on Facebook.
Prof Wong: Is that a Think Singaporean First strategy?
Me: Initially it was. Then some people sent me a very strong message that they want to be last.
Prof Wong: So next time whenever you see a risk of complaints flying, Ban Singaporeans First.
Me: As long as I’m under the Singapore authorities’ jurisdiction, yes. If I’m operating from overseas, no.
