My History
Next spring, our clinic will celebrate its 30th anniversary. When I first opened the clinic, my eldest daughter had just been born. Around that time, my wife remarked, “There really aren’t many dental clinics where expectant mothers or mothers with young children can feel truly comfortable.” That simple comment became the inspiration for what our clinic would stand for: a dental practice where both parents and children could feel at ease. To create a welcoming environment, I devoted one-third of our space to the waiting area so that children could relax. We were renting what used to be a convenience store, so I commissioned an artist to paint a colorful, animation-style mural across the front glass. The artwork quickly became a local landmark. Although the clinic was designed for patients of all ages, many assumed it specialized in pediatric dentistry. As a result, parents with children began visiting in large numbers—a development that ultimately proved to be a blessing. Word of mouth spread naturally. When one child received care, their mother often brought an older sibling. Parents saw their children being treated gently—without fear or tears—and soon, entire families began coming: mothers, fathers, and eventually grandparents.
I have always refused to force treatment upon a child. I never restrain them or rush the process. Dental care should never become a traumatic experience. Sometimes I have spent up to three hours treating a single child, working entirely at their pace. Parents often tell me they trust me because, as one put it, “You never force treatment—you always meet children where they are.”
Over time, many of those children grew up, built families of their own, and now bring their kids to us. Each time I see that, I’m reminded how important it is not to plant fear or damage a child’s self-esteem during care.
One mother once sent me a letter after her child completed a year-long treatment. She wrote, “Before this, my child couldn’t focus on anything. I worried about a learning disability. But through this experience—sticking with dental care for a full year—my child changed completely.” That child is now an independent and confident adult.
I truly believe that even something as simple as dental treatment can change a person’s life. A child who once had an adult genuinely care for them will remember that for life. That belief has shaped my approach ever since—to respect each child’s pace and world, rather than imposing an adult’s rules upon them.
The Present
Over the years, I’ve learned that treating each individual with patience and genuine attention is at the heart of meaningful care. This belief extends beyond children—it guides how we treat patients with disabilities and how we deliver dental care through home visits.
When I was a resident at a university hospital in Hiroshima, the school opened a new treatment unit for patients with disabilities. Families came not only from Hiroshima but also from neighboring prefectures such as Tottori and Shimane. Many spent an entire day traveling by car, as their loved ones couldn’t take public transportation. Watching them, I realized how much could change if every community had a dentist who truly understood and cared for patients with disabilities. From that moment, I knew I wanted to be one of those dentists.
After founding my own clinic, I began offering care tailored to each patient’s unique needs. In our sixth year, I launched home-visit dentistry. When I went to city hall to ask about the long-term care insurance system, the staff told me, “You’re the first dentist who’s ever asked us about this.” Yet they explained everything with great kindness. That experience reminded me that even when no precedent exists, there are always people willing to help—if you take the first step with sincerity. Together with a few passionate team members, we prepared and launched our home-visit service through trial and error.
The program gradually expanded. Soon, local facilities began requesting visits, and today, we provide home dental care to roughly 600 patients every month.
During one visit to a psychiatric hospital, I learned that workshops producing food and crafts for people in employment support programs had lost their sales outlets due to the pandemic. I offered them the use of our hospital’s parking lot to sell their products. That small gesture evolved into a welfare market held three times a year in a local park—now featuring over 40 participating organizations. In recognition of these community initiatives, our clinic received the Saitama Social Contribution Award in 2023, which honors organizations with outstanding CSR and community impact. Being recognized alongside large corporations, department stores, and professional sports teams was deeply meaningful. It affirmed that our community-based healthcare and outreach efforts truly make a difference—and it strengthened our resolve to continue them.
For the Future
Home-visit dentistry requires a level of sensitivity very different from traditional in-clinic care. Patients may feel uneasy about inviting outsiders into their homes, so we’re careful to respect their space. Yet despite that tension, patients consistently express sincere gratitude for our visits. When treating individuals with mental disabilities, I often feel that my own sincerity is being tested. If I approach them with an open heart, they open up in return. If I don’t—if my intentions aren’t genuine—they sense it immediately and withdraw. Their honesty has taught me that true care cannot be faked; it must come from the heart.
That’s why I always face each patient directly and speak to them—not only to their families. Among bedridden patients, some can move only their eyes, while others cannot open their eyes but can move a hand slightly. Regardless of their condition, I make sure to address them first. Respect and communication must begin with the patient.
As people age, their senses gradually fade one by one—but I believe the final sense that remains is the sense of the heart. That’s why, when finishing a visit, I always hold the patient’s hand and say, “I’ll see you again soon. Please stay well.” Caring not just for the family, but for the patient’s spirit, is what preserves dignity.
Through these daily experiences, I often find myself thinking about those who still lack access to proper dental care. The more I encounter such realities, the more I realize how much more I can do. Across Japan, there are many people facing the same challenges, and I believe there are individuals who share our vision and will continue this mission in the years ahead. Yet, the need for home-visit dentistry is not limited to Japan. Many countries are now entering an aging society and will soon face similar issues. I strongly feel it is my responsibility to take the lead—to apply the knowledge and experience I’ve gained in Japan and help pioneer this type of care abroad.