Dr. Emre Orhon Kuybulu

I'm a 72-year-old with a lifelong dental phobia stemming from a childhood trauma. My previous dentist retired, and my new bridge was failing, causing constant pain. I came to Dr. Kuybulu shaking. He didn't just see a broken tooth; he saw a terrified person. He spent the first 20 minutes of my consultation just talking—about my garden, my grandchildren, anything but dentistry. He explained the complex full-arch reconstruction using analogies I could understand ('rebuilding the foundation of a house'). The sedation was seamless. I woke up with no memory of the 4-hour procedure, just a new set of temporary teeth that felt natural. His follow-up protocol was meticulous—weekly checks for a month. He gave me his personal number 'for any midnight worries.' My smile hasn't looked this good in 30 years, but more importantly, my fear is gone. He didn't just fix my teeth; he gave me back the confidence to laugh without covering my mouth.

Our 8-year-old son, Leo, took a bad fall off his scooter, smashing his front adult tooth clean in half. It was a Sunday evening, pure panic. The ER sent us to Acibadem, and Dr. Kuybulu met us there within 40 minutes, still in casual clothes. Leo was sobbing, holding the tooth fragment in a cup. Dr. Kuybulu knelt down to his eye level, didn't touch a tool first, and showed Leo pictures of 'tooth superheroes' on his phone. He explained the reattachment process like a secret mission. The fragment was re-bonded with a technique he called 'invisible glue.' But here's what stood out: two days later, a package arrived at our home—a custom-made, bright green mouthguard with Leo's name and a scooter design laser-engraved on it, and a note from the doctor saying 'For future missions.' The tooth looks perfect. Leo now says he wants to be a dentist. That's the kind of care that changes a child's entire narrative around trauma.

As a professional wind musician, my teeth are my instruments. A chronic, dull ache in my upper molar was throwing off my embouchure. I'd seen three specialists who found 'nothing wrong' on X-rays. Dr. Kuybulu listened to me describe the specific pressure points when playing my clarinet. He proposed a CBCT scan, which revealed a microscopic vertical root fracture—a ghost injury. The solution was a single dental implant, but the stakes were astronomically high for my career. He collaborated with my music teacher to understand the precise lip-tooth contact. The surgery was performed with a surgical guide he 3D-printed himself. The crown wasn't just crafted for bite; it was sculpted for my specific mouthpiece angle. The post-op 'play-test' adjustments were a revelation. He had me bring my instrument to the clinic for fine-tuning the crown's contour while I played scales. The result is seamless. My tone is back, and the ache is a memory. This wasn't dentistry; it was bespoke biomechanical restoration.

I presented as a routine hygiene visit—just a cleaning and check-up. During the exam, Dr. Kuybulu noticed a subtle, velvety white patch on the inside of my cheek I hadn't felt. I thought it was nothing. He became very calm but very serious. He explained it could be benign, but it needed investigation, performing an immediate, painless brush biopsy right then. He personally walked the sample to the lab. The diagnosis came back as early-stage oral lichen planus with dysplastic changes—a pre-cancerous condition. His early catch meant we could manage it with non-invasive laser treatment instead of major surgery. The entire experience was defined by his profound vigilance. He saw what wasn't yet a problem and stopped it from becoming one. My 'routine checkup' turned into a potentially life-altering intervention. His expertise isn't just in fixing obvious issues; it's in seeing the invisible ones. I owe him more than dental health.