Hicksville dentist was much loved, is much missed
BY JACQUELINE JILL RITO
“That’s about 
as much fun as a root canal.”
Sarcastic jokes can get laughs, maybe a smile, but get on the wrong side of those drilling bits and the issue become more about real pain than any laughing matter.
From least fond childhood memories, smiles of dentists hold foreboding and dubious distinctions. Every blessed time I went to a dentist, I remember them peering into my flapped-open mouth (say “Ahh…wider”) and the guarantee that yes, there’s another cavity. Then, drill as they would, I remember that horrid smell of sanding bone. Mine. What I don’t remember are any measures of comfort, only pain.
As a teenager, I went to a dental specialist, who not so wisely advised me to remove three quiet wisdom teeth because they were crooked and would potentially give me difficulty as I aged. From the excruciating pain, hematoma and swelling resulting from heeding his expert counsel, I’m guessing that my teeth may not have been the only thing crooked.
Now in my 60s, I still have teeth that continue to bother with sporadic regularity. Last summer, I was told I needed not one, but two root canals after I had experienced an undetermined pain in my jaw that had me in tears at work. After several specialists’ visits with X-rays and a night visit to a hospital ER, nothing was found. After a final periodontal visit without incident or answers, I was referred to Dr. Martin Shear of Hicksville. Hoping for the best, but expecting more of the same, I made an appointment.
His office was simple—no bells or whistles. In the waiting room, there were no flagrant plastic flowers on sleek end-tables, no flat-screen TV with repetitive news or distracting morning TV hoots and hollers, no original signed works of art. The one picture I recall was in the examining room—that of a big, brown, kind-of reassuring mamma bear accompanying her cub in a lush green forest. Dr. Shear’s staff was pleasant, purposeful. His secretary smiled when making eye contact and wrote appointment notes by hand, an antiquated form of care in a digital age of technology and old-school work ethic of detail with which I could relate.
Then I met Dr. Shear—a portly, soft-spoken gentleman who took personal pride in calming fears, explaining dental causes and effects, detailing procedures with an understanding professionalism. His unexpected demeanor has been difficult to parallel in years of medical and dental visits.
In one corner of the dental examination room, he had a small electric plug-in radio for tunes from an “oldie-but-goodie” AM New York City radio station. Once during my visits, he had the Mets baseball game on. Hot dogs, Cracker Jack with peanuts and Mets baseball…this wasn’t your usual office visit. Here you felt comfortably at home.
During treatment, he’d stretch a rubber tent over my gaping mouth to protect my tooth and maybe partly himself from having to look into a gaping mouth pit. And he’d explain every root-canal step. Novocain? Sure. No needle pain remained during any and all of his procedures. He repaired not one but two root canals with the same care and consideration over several months.
In March, I cracked a tooth (maybe it was the Cracker Jack?), and facing another root canal, I felt no anxiety. I knew that a call to Dr. Shear’s office would result in this third root canal ordeal plesantly remedied. I rather looked forward to my next visit with Dr. Shear. I telephoned his office on a Thursday and heard a message, thanking me for my patronage. It took me the most of the workday and several phone calls to fully comprehend that Dr. Shear would not be solving this root canal problem.
Just by chance and good fortune, I had met Dr. Martin Shear. He was an accomplished, kind, down-to-earth professional regardless of his titles or certifications. His gentle professionalism, smile and attention embraced a sense of humanity that transcends the sterility of the “business-as-usual” practices today.
Dr. Shear is respected, missed and loved by those who knew him.
For me, he has gratefully challenged those sarcastic jokes by proving that even root canals can be “fun.”
Jacqueline Jill Rito of Hicksville teaches italian at both Bethpage High School and SUNY Westbury, where she is an adjunct professor. She also offers adult ed classes in Hicksville.
