The Power of a Smile to Transcend Borders Part 5

They lined up all the way down the hall... a sea of faces, enough to make the most courageous dentist feel faint.  Kids.  Lots of kids.  A multitude of kids.  And we were supposed to treat them all.

The Ukrainian health clinic, called a Sanatorium, had allowed our team to set up our mobile dental-clinic-in-a-box in their administrative building, where they could keep an eye on us.  In an attempt to feel like we were making progress, we struggled through the chaos of supplies and equipment well enough to start screening the first group of children for treatment.  

There were two sets of kids that we would be seeing.  One group was staying at this government-run Sanatorium for the summer, being treated for diseases, most of which had been caused by radiation exposure from the Chernobyl disaster.  These children mostly stayed in dormitories with their grandparents because their parents could not afford to take off time from work.  The second group of kids included young teenagers being bussed in from a local orphanage.  

In dental school, you are considered fast if you can treat three people in a day.  We peered down the hall at the kids lined up to infinity, and then looked in despair back at our selves - four measly dental students. 

Sometimes, when you are so utterly overwhelmed, there just isn’t anything you can do but roll up your sleeves and get to work.  You may not really know what you are going to do, but as long as you start doing something, you forget to panic.  It felt a lot like that. 

We screened kids first, using translators to communicate in Ukrainian.  I learned a few simple words like “good”, “open”, “close”, “hurt?” and “crocodile”.  All kids, despite their culture, know how to open their mouths like a crocodile.  It was a very effective word.

Surprisingly, it is uncommon in Ukraine for dentists to use anesthetic.  Anesthetic is saved for root canals and extractions, but not for fillings and certainly not for children.  We came across resistance from the Ukrainian adults to the use of novacaine because they thought we were torturing their kids with needles.  This made for a very tense conflict of ethics.  Our leader, Dr. Nelson, finally put his foot down and told them the way it was going to be.  "We will not drill on a child who isn’t numb."

Somehow through the chaos, we began to do actual dentistry.  Slowly at first, we picked up speed, pushed forward by the thought that there were at least a hundred kids waiting in the hallway for their turn.  By sheer determination, the four of us dental students worked 9am to 9pm, scarfing down Top Ramen cooked in a coffee maker for dinner so we would not have to stop.  Though we could have called it a night sooner, we were driven by the fact that the earlier we stopped, the fewer children would be helped.  And that just wasn’t an option.  We had work to do.

Not that we didn’t take breaks.  One of the ladies on our team had a brilliant idea.  She brought along her stereo and led a group of kids (and us when we couldn’t take it anymore) in aerobic workouts.  It gave the waiting children something to do, and the workers a much needed stress release.  The best part was watching the kids who had never seen aerobics in their lives follow her routine in absolute giggling glee.

I knew we were making progress when little gifts starting filtering in.  The kids began to bring us wild strawberries and flowers pilfered from obliging meadows.  Sometimes it was a peeled sticker, covered in lint.  On a very rare occasion a chocolate would appear.  The children were starting to be won over, however, the same could not be said for the adults.

And the man with the stern face still lingered in the corner, watching us in silent contemplation.

Tags: Ukraine