Growing up in the suburbs of Melbourne, I was an adventurous child, often getting into dangerous situations.
At the age of ten, I slipped and fell while jumping between cattle trucks on a cattle station. Trying to steady myself, I grabbed a high-voltage wire and was struck by 1,500 volts of direct current, knocking me to the ground. I fractured my jaw and suffered brain trauma.
After spending several months in a children’s hospital, I was diagnosed with complex post-traumatic stress disorder and developed a severe teeth-grinding habit.
Even four decades later, I still vividly remember the children with facial burns in the hospital. Sometimes, the smell of certain barbecued meats would make me gag.
In my twenties, I was in another serious car accident, injuring my head again, dislocating my jaw and causing my teeth to misalign.
I’ve always been insecure about my teeth. While the media is full of handsome men and beautiful women with dazzling smiles, I always had to cover my mouth when I smiled.
For the next few years, I underwent intermittent dental treatment in Australia, getting braces and restorations, but the results were never lasting. My teeth were severely worn, and some had even fallen out.
The years from 2015 to 2019 were a low point in my life. Over those four years, I lost both parents, my marriage collapsed, I suffered from depression, and gained 40 kilograms. I began to withdraw from people and fell into loneliness.
In 2019, at the age of 50, I met my partner and began to regain control of my life. I went to the gym, walked, adjusted my diet, and sought psychotherapy, and things gradually improved. But I still felt deeply insecure about my teeth.
I thought: If I could fix the appearance of my teeth, perhaps my internal health would improve, and my emotional issues would be alleviated.
I had saved some money, including my parents’ inheritance and savings from my work as a disability advocate, but it still wasn’t enough to cover the high cost of dental care in Australia.
One day, I saw an ad for medical tourism on social media. I submitted X-rays and photos, communicated on WhatsApp, and received a quote. I prepaid for the dental surgery and accommodation, and booked a flight to Bangkok.
I hadn’t made such an impulsive decision since my childhood.
I was both nervous and excited—after all, this was my first time leaving Australia. I’m a typical homebody who enjoys staying home, spending time with my dog, tending my garden, and strolling along the beach. But at my first dentist appointment in Bangkok, they installed a temporary crown, which looked fantastic.
But things didn’t last. After my second visit, things took a turn for the worse.
My face swelled so badly that I could barely lift my head. Painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication kept me asleep all day.
This was already a complex dental procedure, and I knew it would be painful. But one tooth hurt more than the others, forcing me to take another day off.
I told the dental team about my pain, but they simply said, “It’ll get better,” and didn’t seem to take it seriously.
To make matters worse, someone in management later told me the actual cost would be double the original quote, totaling over $20,000. I was already halfway through my treatment and couldn’t stop, so I had to borrow money from friends in Australia.
Two weeks later, I returned to Australia after the surgery. The new tooth looked great, but the painful tooth still hadn’t healed. For the next six months, I suffered recurring infections and took eight rounds of antibiotics, but doctors couldn’t pinpoint the source.
Then one day, the crown on the painful tooth fell off.
A visit to a local dentist revealed that my gum infection had spread to my maxillary bone and sinuses. Ultimately, I lost three teeth, most of my gums, and part of my jawbone. The excruciating pain during that period made me almost completely isolated.
The dental work I had originally intended to boost my confidence and improve my social life actually made me more withdrawn and withdrawn.
By the end of that year, I withdrew from everything—including my beloved social life and disability advocacy work. I felt like years of hard work had crumbled in a matter of months.
Now, nearly two years have passed since that surgery. I’m still considering returning to Thailand for a new implant, this time with a different dentist, of course.
I admit my decision was rash, but I’m not completely dismissive of medical tourism.
After all, the same disaster could happen in Australia. I was just unlucky.