William Lowe had retired from a three-decade dental career, including 22 years at Department of Veterans Affairs health centers across the country.

But shortly after moving to Michigan in 2006 to be near his daughter in law school, Lowe received a note seeking dentists to work at a clinic in Cashton, Wis. Lowe signed on, and through August 2008 he practiced dentistry again—this time, at a federally qualified health center, one of hundreds of community-based sites that offer primary and preventive care regardless of a patient’s ability to pay. Many FQHCs are in areas without enough medical professionals.

His Mooney M-20E served Lowe well, flying him back home every few weekends. The trip, which meant going around Lake Michigan because Lowe preferred not flying over it, took two and a half hours one way—far better than driving the 500 miles there. Lowe’s wife visited him monthly.

Lowe knows southern Wisconsin very well. He grew up on a farm in Whitehall; attended junior high school just down the road, in Viroqua; taught math and science in Kenosha; and, after shifting careers and graduating from Marquette University’s dental school in Milwaukee, first practiced in New Lisbon.

Wisconsin also is where Lowe learned to fly. As a dental student, he drove by Sturtevant’s Sylvania Airport and noticed demonstration rides being offered for $5. “That was the beginning,” Lowe said, of his attraction to aviation, although he lacked the funds to get his private pilot certificate until completing dental school in 1975.

Lowe has owned several airplanes since then, including a Cessna 150 and Cherokee 140. He used them recreationally and to fly to dental meetings and conferences in Madison, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and Chicago. When he lived out West, he flew to continuing medical education programs in Phoenix and to conferences in Las Vegas.

Cashton, though, is where the airplane came in most handy because of Lowe’s job at the Scenic Bluffs Community Health Center. Lowe rented a small apartment, bought a cheap car, and lived in the farming community of 1,000 most of each month.

“I knew the area where this town was, so I had an idea of what I was getting into in terms of the locality: hilly, up on a bluff, and lots of snow in winter,” Lowe said. As to why he un-retired at all, Lowe stated, “After practicing dentistry many years, I thought that I could walk away from it cold turkey. But I missed the patients and the staff at the dental clinic.” Lowe also said he liked the idea of treating people “not as fortunate as I am.”

The small-town clinic was an eye-opener for Lowe insofar as its demographics and its patients’ dental health. About one third of those he treated were Amish people. In cold weather, Lowe recalled, they secured their horses and buggies in a barn near the clinic.

“It was quite a challenge to thread the needle and provide them dental treatment,” Lowe said of his Amish patients. “For instance, if [another] person had an abscess, I’d say, ‘I need to put you on antibiotics,’ and that would help the treatment really well. The Amish don’t believe in antibiotics, so I would have to find another way of treating the abscess.

“Or, if a teenager would come in with crooked teeth. Normally, you’d refer him to an orthodontist. But [the Amish] didn’t want to do that. They’d just want to take the teeth out.”

Lowe did persuade some Amish patients to seek orthodontic treatment. Their cultural approaches to medical care led to some perplexity but also to an appreciation for new viewpoints.

Lowe found that many Amish patients did not drink municipal water because it contained fluoride, which in turn led to a prevalence of tooth decay. Patients tended to have many more cavities than non-Amish people; when they needed fillings, some people forsook anesthesia and grabbed hard onto the armrest instead.

Lowe observed, too, that many Amish patients requiring fillings preferred those made from composite resin, typically a mixture of ground feldspar and other rock; the composite resin now is more the dental standard than silver fillings.

Of Lowe’s non-Amish patients, about half were children, and the rest were elderly people and those not needing the low-income subsidy. Lowe said that he felt good to provide care to those who “usually didn’t go” otherwise. All his patients “were very cordial and were glad to have you there,” he said.

As to his mode of transportation that made the dental care possible, Lowe said, “The flying was good. It’s always fun to go somewhere with a purpose, as opposed to just flying off to get a hamburger.” —By Hillel Kuttler