The Turnkey Mirage in Dental Sleep Medicine (Lessons Learned from Publishing a Book)

Do you contract with a third-party biller like Pristine Medical Billing, stick with fee-for-service, or hire an in-house biller? You start making calls, and suddenly you're drowning in conflicting claims. Every billing company says they're the best. One even swears they’ve got the golden ticket to zillionaire-level reimbursement with no effort on your part.

Then there are the decisions about how to manage home sleep testing in your practice: purchase units, hire a service like SleepTest.com, or just refer everyone to local physicians and hold your breath?

Which appliances should you use: ProSomnus® Sleep Technologies, TAP Sleep Care | Airway Management, Inc., maybe something from Apex Dental Sleep Lab, Inc. or Good Sleep Co?

How do you get your team trained? In-network versus out-of-network? VA contracts? As Goodie Mob and DJ Muggs famously rapped, "Decisions, decisions to make..."

Can you feel your brain going numb and your decision-making skills ossifying? You're turning into a statue. Immobile. Safe from doing the wrong thing.

Sure, their fees seem steep, but if there is truly a “turnkey DSM solution,” it’s worth every dime, amirite or AM I RIGHT?! They promise they’ve seen it all, and they’ll handle all the heavy lifting. Their confidence is contagious. The path is clear—finally.

Except... it's not. Remember that Atari game, Pitfall? Snakes and hidden traps; frustration at every turn.

Now, I’m not a dentist. But I do know what it’s like to chase a magic solution that doesn’t exist. Take publishing my first book. I’m no Stephen King, but I can string a sentence together. Still, the journey to get that book into thousands of dentists' hands.

As I nearly finished writing the book, a floodgate of decisions opened before me: cover design, page layout, font size, keywords, copyediting, pricing, review cycles. It seemed like each decision sprouted five more, like Gremlins fed after midnight.

Before long, I was in a decision tree forest fire which led to a severe bout of analysis paralysis and subsequent delays. I blamed the delays on my job, my family, the weather. But the truth was, I froze. I didn’t want to get it wrong, so I did nothing. The page count didn’t climb, but my excuses sure did. The decision to do nothing was a decision.

Eventually, I sought help. That’s when I stumbled upon a parallel universe of “publishing experts” who promised to do everything for me—design, layout, editing, heck, many even offered ghostwriting services. You could write a book without writing a book. Isn't that novel?See what I did there? One guy’s pitch read: “I edit book 4 u and do cover. No worries. Five stars.” Charming.

I realized the DSM world doesn’t have a monopoly on charlatans.

There I was—spending more time researching how to publish a book than writing the actual book. It felt productive. It was not. It was the publishing version of a treadmill.

And yet again, the solution presented itself: turnkey publishing services. “We’ll do it all for you,” they said. Just hand over a few thousand bucks, and you’ll be a bestselling author. I downloaded their guides. Watched their webinars. Some tips were good. Some presenters were likable. A few even wrote books I admired.

But of course, if it sounds too good to be true, it is. So I took what I learned from those resources and got busy doing the work. It’s the exact same in DSM. We’re told they’ll do it all for us, and it gives us a sense of solace until the credit card is swiped. Then it’s more like the scene from National Lampoon’s Vacation, when the Griswolds stop to ask for directions while rolling the Family Truckster through the notoriously blighted streets of East St. Louis.

CLARK. We're from out of town.

GROVER. No shit?

CLARK. Listen, I'd really appreciate it if you could give me directions back onto the expressway.

GROVER. What? For free? Five dollars.

CLARK. I'm not going to give you money for directions!

ELLEN. I think that's fair, Clark.

CLARK. OK. Here's five dollars. Keep the change.

GROVER. You see which way you're pointing? You see that place? Do you see the sign, "Rib Tips?” Well, f*ck that, you don't want to go that way. You go half a block down the street, and you'll see a Torino with no wheels on it. Inside that Torino is my cousin, Jackie. Tell him that you're my boy and that you're lost. He'll make sure you get where you're going. You don't want to know from me. I'm not from this neighborhood. I'm from the west side of Chicago, here on vacation.

You pay the fee, expecting clear directions, and instead you’re told to find Cousin Jackie in a stripped-down Torino who might know the way.

That’s the DSM billing journey, too. What sounds like clarity turns into confusion—and the stakes are high.

Here’s the truth: there are no shortcuts. No plug-and-play. No unicorns offering sleep billing nirvana. You have to do the work. Understand the landscape. Ask the right questions. And yeah, sometimes that means trial and error.

That’s the price of progress. And while it might not always be pretty, and it certainly won't be perfect, it’s yours. Skip the rib tips. It's the work that makes it worth it.

We're hosting 3 Deep Dive Workshops the day BEFORE the Transform Dental Sleep Symposium kicks off. Sign up today for one of these deep dive workshops guaranteed to rocket your dental sleep practice to the next level.