How it all started

My adventure with a dental clinic in Turkey didn't come from a dream of a "Hollywood" smile, but from problems that had been following me since 2020. That year many of us found out what it means to have no access to treatment – and so did I.

During lockdown I was hit by terrible toothache. I walked around with it for three weeks, waiting for the first private practice to finally open. I live in Scotland, where dental prices can knock you off your feet – but when you're really in pain, you'll pay "a million" just for someone to switch it off.

The dentist "knew better"

I went in with pain from my wisdom tooth. The dentist "knew better" and pulled out… a perfectly healthy tooth next to it. When the anaesthetic wore off, the pain remained. I went back and was told "all teeth are healthy", and was given antibiotics.

The pain didn't go away, so I kept calling until someone finally saw me again. And surprise: it was the tooth I'd been talking about from the very beginning. The dentist felt guilty and treated it for free – but I'll never get that healthy tooth back. I should add this was a "top" dental practice in the area.

At some point I looked at it all and thought: enough. I started seriously thinking about crowns. Scotland – out of the question. I was completely put off. Poland – was considered, but around £14,000 for teeth is still a lot.

And then my brain did what many people's do: "What about Turkey?"

Thousands of transformations on social media

I watched thousands of transformations. Beautiful smiles, white teeth, hotels, pools, coordinators. I contacted several clinics. Clinics that didn't reply or immediately hit me with astronomical prices I considered red flags.

One clinic in Izmir – or rather its coordinator – seemed quite honest and warm. She found me a flight, assured me I'd be in good hands. At my request she recorded a video from the clinic. I thought: "Okay, this is it."

The price was "middle of the road" – neither the cheapest nor luxury. I bought a ticket and counted the days to departure.

Arrival – the brochure vs. reality

After landing everything looked like a brochure. A driver was waiting for me, as promised. In the car I met a girl heading to the same clinic – friendly, young, wanted to improve her look.

We were taken to a hotel… but a different one than it was supposed to be.

A hotel with no stars

Literally. I quickly discovered that practically all the guests were patients from various dental clinics. The first night showed why the hotel name had been such a secret: city centre, cars 24/7, zero quiet. I didn't sleep a minute.

First clinic visit

The next day – the visit. Scan, plan. It turned out that instead of a bridge I "should" have three implants:

• One to replace the tooth mistakenly pulled in Scotland
• Two more because when removing my existing bridge my teeth were broken

So at the first visit I had two damaged teeth extracted and implants placed straight away. The procedure itself was quick. Everything there runs like a conveyor belt, like a factory – everyone comes in, goes out, next person in the chair.

The reality of the "VIP package"

I met people who had all their teeth pulled at once. They sat there in pain with swollen faces. That sight was tightening my stomach more and more.

Transport

Hotel–clinic transfers were included in the package. Sounds nice, right? In practice the cars hired by the clinic were probably the oldest models I'd ever seen.

After extractions the most important thing is cold compresses – and the clinic did actually provide those. But then you step out into 35 degrees, they pack you into a car with no air conditioning and you sit in traffic waiting for the pain to send you into orbit.

The car always waited for all patients to do one "group run". That girl I met on day one had gum surgery and ground-down teeth. She was in terrible pain, and the heat plus no air con turned it into torture.

Clinic vs. hotel – two different worlds

One important thing: the clinic itself was spotlessly clean. Genuinely. On hygiene – I can't fault them. There was plenty of staff; out of maybe ten people two spoke English, the rest – phone translator.

The hotel though… a completely different story. Breakfasts included in the package were absolutely not suited for people after extractions and tooth grinding: hard, dry, requiring chewing. Soft, gentle food was a distant dream.

Flight home – and a head full of thoughts

My first visit in May was over. I got on the plane with an aching jaw and a head full of thoughts. On the plane – all Poles. I listened to complaints, stories, dramas.

What next?

That was my first chapter of the Turkish dental adventure. At that point I didn't yet know that at subsequent visits I'd start looking at it all not just through the eyes of a patient, but of someone who asks really uncomfortable questions – and looks for answers that might save others from such a "lesson".