Dental clinics for homeless restore dignity
WINNIPEG, MB—One man had a toothache so excruciating he phoned an ambulance. It may sound like an overreaction, says Kari Enns, director of a health centre for the poor and homeless in Winnipeg, but not for someone who can't afford a dentist.
"If you don't have any money, that's kind of a last resort," says Enns, who runs Siloam Mission's Saul Sair Heath Centre. "If you're not covered, you deal with that pain." Another man she knows lived with a tooth throbbing in his jaw for two years before he was able to see a dentist.
Simply getting a tooth pulled costs around $85 at a dentist; a cleaning can cost anywhere from $30 to $150. There's no wiggle room in a social assistance budget for that kind of help, Enns points out.
Siloam's health centre is the only place in Winnipeg where homeless or low-income clients can see a dentist for free, thanks to a roster of dentists, dental hygienists, denturists and other professionals from around the city who put in volunteer hours every week.
All the equipment and supplies are donated.
Tana Gilmartin, who teaches at dentistry at the University of Manitoba is one of the most faithful. Two years ago, she heard Siloam was building a clinic to serve their clients, and she was determined to participate. "At the end of the day it feels rewarding—you've made a difference in people's lives," she says.
Other organizations tuned to the needs of the poor are also restoring smiles across Canada.
The Ottawa Mission runs the country's largest volunteer dental clinic for the poor and homeless. Since it opened in March 2007, dentists have pulled more than 1,000 teeth and given out about $600,000 worth of free dentistry.
Forty-three dentists, 13 hygienists, a denturist and about two dozen dental assistants put in volunteer hours, says Tom Harle, the dentist who oversees the program.
As the director of Health Teams International Canada, a Christian organization that offers health care in developing countries, Harle knows all about repairing teeth where dentists are scarce. Two years ago Harle started telling one of his patients about a recent missions trip to North Korea. The man observed that there was plenty of need in downtown Ottawa.
"I felt convicted," says Harle. "If I can travel halfway across the world, surely I can travel halfway across the city." He pitched the idea of a dental clinic to Ottawa Mission.
Now Harle spends his Tuesday afternoons at Ottawa Mission fitting homeless people with dentures. He's so well-liked, his new friends on the street have been known to plug his parking meter when it runs out.
Teeth are a matter of dignity, Enns points out. "If you're trying to gain skills to obtain full time employment and go to a job interview missing your front teeth, you most likely won't smile and may not have confidence."
When dental professionals volunteer at Siloam Mission, it shows the homeless population that people care, says Enns. "It's a really unique relationship when we bring the two together. We want to show Winnipeggers who may not be exposed to those who are homelessness, that this is going on in our city."
SIDEBAR: Dental distrust
The prospect of opening one's mouth to a masked person armed with picks, drills and chisels is enough to make anyone jittery. For many people who use Siloam Mission's services, those fears are compounded says Kari Enns, director of the Saul Sair Health Centre.
"A lot of people have trust issues," she says. "They may have been physically or sexually assaulted…there's a reason why they're on the streets."
Working at the clinic full time gives Enns opportunity to build trust with clients. She spent nine months trying to coax a man to have his teeth looked at. "He had coverage through First Canadian Health, but never went anywhere because he didn't feel comfortable," she says. "Every day I talked to him. Finally he said, "Kari, my teeth are really bothering me.'
"His teeth were so bad he was actually eating his own teeth. I thought, why would somebody go through that much pain if you had coverage and not get anything done, but a lot of it's trust."
It takes a special kind of dentist to work with patients who might suddenly leap out of the chair in a panic, says Kari. "But that's what happens here. We have women who have been abused, who lie back in that chair and they might all of a sudden panic. Sometimes it takes three or four times for them to actually sit in that chair and lie back until we get work done."
Dear Readers:
ChristianWeek relies on your generous support. please take a minute and donate to help give voice to stories that inform, encourage and inspire.
Donations of $20 or more will receive a charitable receipt.Thank you, from Christianweek.
