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EXPECTATIONS OF EXCELLENCE

“I just realized what tough job you have, Doc, ” A wall street money manager was trying to talk through the Novocaine, assorted cotton rolls and gloved fingers in his mouth as I was preparing his veneers. “I can have a bad day,” he said. “You cant. In fact you can’t have a bad minute on any day. I can lose a fortune in one day, but I can recapture it the next day or a year later. There’s always tomorrow in the financial industry. But these veneers are now ,” he said, ” Then I’m gone; the next person’s bondings are next . You have to be at the top of your game all the time for each and every patient.” When he went on to remind me that the pressure must be enormous, I told him perhaps that’s probably why I do yoga three times a week.

One the one hand, he’s completely right of course. I do feel an Expectation of Excellence at every moment. It’s OK. I grew up with it. My Dad demanded it. One time I came home with a report card that had six A’s and one B+. He pointed to the B+ and said, “What happened here, son?

On the other hand, he’s completely wrong. Although some patients do have an emotional attachment to the immediacy of an excellent outcome, if bonding and veneers are not 100% successful on the first day, they can be looked at as a creative process, as an art form that can find Excellence after several sessions. Although there is always an Expectation of Excellence, cosmetic restorations can be redone safely and effectively if necessary. It’s unusual, but when it happens, the results are often spectacular.

I Join the Church Choir

I was thinking about the Expectation of Excellence as I was about to sing in my wife’s choir last Sunday morning. Alecia is a talented operatic performer and choral director who leads the First Congregational Church Choir of Washington, Connecticut . How did I come to sing with this group? About five years ago Alecia told me she had taken the choir director’s position, and with a rehearsal on Thursday evenings and a newborn Eva, she asked if I could leave work a little early on Thursdays to baby sit for the little one . I agreed and made arrangements to do that when my schedule freed up. On the first afternoon of my planned babysitting, I called my wife to tell her I was leaving the city. She said ” I don’t need a babysitter anymore: I needed a baritone.” …….And so it came to pass that I began to sing and have continued to sing in the church choir. I like it. The music is uplifting, and the choir box is the best place to feel the spirit and hear a sermon, but also to check the Blackberry undetected. I also like wearing the long red robe: it keeps me warm in the drafty church.

Struggling to Sing

This Sunday however, I was struggling to sing. I was laboring with a bad cold and feeling the pressure of my being one of only two baritones who had shown up. And there was that Expectation of Excellence pressuring me to be able to sing full voice without cracking. My other baritone buddies who I’d come to rely on for vocal output had probably seen the early morning snow and had “slept in” on this picturesque New England morning. . The pressure was on for an Expectation of Excellence. I was to be fifty percent of the vocal output from my section. My wife raised her hands and gave me the encouraging look of ” You can do it…. or rather, you can sing it” I caught Wendy, the High School Principal, out of the corner of my eye in the third pew. Wendy is our vocal benchmark. Most choir pieces, if sung well, make her cry. If the sound is pure and uplifting , she bawls. If the sound is just ok, she fidgets. I knew my part, and I was pushing for the extravagant wet-faced bawl.

I had managed to get through the early morning rehearsal after downing tons of cough medicine, cough drops and assorted cold remedies. I actually didn’t feel too bad. I just had this urge to cough, and sneeze, and cough again, but I was sure I would able to control it and sing out. I was feeling great as the choir began its first piece. With one eye on Alecia’s leadership and the other on Wendy’s tears-or-not approval rating, I sang out the out the first line past my scratchy throat. And then it came…. a bronchial rumble, an uncontrollable fit of coughing, a cacophony of hacking and wheezing, a spell that lasted through all the “Hallelujahs” and the “Forever’s” and all the “And he shall reign forever and evers” right to the end of the piece. As the choir stood standing and singing, I was sure the congregation could see that my robe and me were visibly doubled over. I occasionally straightened up gasping for air amid Handel’s ascendant work to check in with Wendy the High School Principal. She was not bawling. She was whispering and fidgeting.

I had dropped the ball, missed my cue, probably distracted my teammates, disappointed the coach (my wife) and denied Wendy the Principal the uplifting experience she has come to expect on Sunday mornings. How does Celine Dion do it, or Wayne Newton night after night? I once watched Michael Jordan play a championship game with flu-like symptoms and 103 degree temperature. They had to give him fluids on the sidelines, but he scored 44 points and won the game with a last minute shot. Then they took him to the hospital.

The Wall Street guy had hit upon something, but I discovered mine was not the only profession with a minute-by-minute Expectation of Excellence. Live performance, whether it is an entertainer’s act, an athlete’s fortitude or a doctor’s cosmetic craft all have an immediacy of participation, a defined moment of time when it must be good. On Monday I wore two masks and downed lots of extra cough remedies and performed some beautiful veneering work (according to a most happy patient). The few times I started coughing, I excused myself, only to return a few minutes later and apparently achieved the Excellence that was Expected.

A Happy Veneer Patient

Hugh Jackman was in the office the other day and I asked him, “You sang and danced in ‘ A Boy from Oz’ for entire year on Broadway. You never left the stage: You were the entire show. Did you ever have a cold?” He answered,”I was sick for a month.” “How did you sing,” I asked. He replied. ” You just do it. You have to. ” I guess I just don’t have it in that field. I’ll stick to designing smiles.