One of the most bizarrely cool people Iâve ever met was an oral surgeon who treated me after a ridiculous accident (thatâs another story), Dr. Z.
Dr. Z. was, easily, the best and most competent doctor or dentist Iâve ever encountered â and after that accident, I encountered quite a number. He came stunningly highly recommended, had an excellent record, and the most calming bedside manner Iâve ever seen.
That last wasnât the sweet gentle caretaking sort of manner, which some nurses have but you wouldnât expect to see in a surgeon. No; when Dr. Z. told me that one of my broken molars was too badly damaged to save, and I (being seventeen and still moderately in shock) broke down crying, he stared at me incredulously and said, in a tone of utter bemusement, âBut â I am very good.â
I stopped crying on the spot. In the last twenty-four hours or so of one doctor after another, no one had said anything that reassuring to me. He clearly just knew his own competence so well that the idea of someone being scared anyway was literally incomprehensible to him. What more could I possibly ask for?
(He was right. The procedure was very extended, because the tooth that needed to be removed was in bits, but there was zero pain at any point. And, as he promised, my teeth were so close together that they shifted to fill the gap to where there genuinely is none anymore, itâs just a little easier to floss on that side.)
But Dr. Z.âs insane competence wasnât just limited to oral surgery.
When I met Dr. Z., he, like most doctors Iâve had, asked me if I was in college, and where, and what I was studying. When I say âmath,â most doctors respond with âoh, wow, good for youâ or possibly âwhat do you want to do with that after college?â
Dr. Z. wanted to know what kind of math.
I gave him the thirty-second laymanâs summary that I give people who are foolish enough to ask that. He responded with âoh, you meanââ and the correct technical terms. I confirmed that was indeed what I meant (and keep in mind, this was upper-division college math, you donât take this unless youâre a math major). He asked cogent follow-up questions, and there ensued ten or so minutes of what Iâd call âsmall talkâ except for how it was an intensely technical mathematical discussion.
He didnât, as far as I can tell, have any kind of formal math background. He just ⊠knew stuff.
I was a competitive fencer at this point in time, so when he asked if I had any questions about the surgery that would be necessary, I asked him if Iâd be okay to fence while I had my jaw wired shut, or if it would interfere with breathing.
âYes,â I said, âlike swordfighting,â because this is another conversation I got to have a lot. (People assume theyâve misheard you, or occasionally they think you mean building fences.)
âNo, it wonât be safe,â and he went off into an explanation of why.
Turns out, he was also a serious fencer â and, when I mentioned my fencing coach, an old friend of his. (I asked my fencing coach later, and, oh yes, Dr. Z., a good friend of mine, excellent fencer.) (My coach was French. Dr. Z. was Israeli. I never saw Dr. Z. around the club or anything. I have no idea how they knew each other.)
So this was weird enough that later, when I was home, I looked Dr. Z. up on Yelp. His reviews were stellar, of course, but that wasnât the weird thing.
The weird thing was that the reviews were full of people â professionals in lots of different fields â saying the same thing: I went to Dr. Z. for oral surgery, and he asked me about what I did, and it turned out he knew all about my field and had a competent and educated discussion with me about the obscure technical details of such-and-such.
All sorts of different fields, saying this. Lawyers. Businessmen. Musicians.
As far as I can tell, itâs not that I just happened to be pursuing the two fields he had a serious amateur interest in â he just seemed to be extremely good at literally everything.
I have no explanation for this. Possibly he sold his soul to the devil.
He did a damn good job on my surgery.
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