William Halligan, DDS

San Diego practice limited to treating Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction (TMJ) and Orofacial Pain.

Dear Patients and Friends,

Our San Diego practice is currently open. However, in order to continue to see our existing patients in a timely manner, we are no longer accepting new patients.

Rest assured, we are taking additional precautions throughout our office to insure the safety of each of our patients, family, and team members. We take pride in following all OSHA and CDC guidelines and beyond for cleanliness, sterilization, and decontamination.

Existing patients, if you would like to schedule an appointment please call 858-277-3910.

We look forward to seeing you soon!

Thank you,
Dr. Halligan

William Halligan, DDS

San Diego practice limited to treating Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction (TMJ) and Orofacial Pain.

We offer a safe, non-surgical approach to rapid & long-lasting relief from orofacial pain and TMJ disorders.

WELCOME, you are our greatest concern! We are dedicated exclusively to the treatment of orofacial pain and TMJ disorders. We provide you with special, individualized care delivered by a highly qualified staff. Dr. Halligan has treated hundreds of patients with TMJ dysfunction, headaches and neck pain.

We offer many treatment options based upon the personal diagnosis of each individual. Should you have any questions or comments, let us know. We understand you have a choice of practices from which to choose, and we look forward to offering you the experienced, excellent care you deserve.

Dr. Halligan's Blog

Understated Kiwis

After she reached the Travers River Bridge, Andrea took one horrified look up at the featureless rocky bowl that towered above–no real trail, just orange poles every few hundred yards to mark the way–and asked our Kiwi guide, Gary, “Just what are my options at this point?” “Well, you could walk back down to the

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And the Southern Cross

January 2016, at a sheep station on New Zealand’s South Island. I pitched our tent yesterday on a grassy hilltop just yards from the shoreline of Lake Pukaki; we had a marvelous view of snow covered Mt. Cook a few miles north. Rain was forecast last night, but though the cloud cover was heavy and

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Wild!

Is this the face that launched a thousand hiker’s boots? Spoiler alert: I might spoil the ending of the book and movie Wild here. If you don’t want to know about the endings, I suggest you skip this. Last year I bought the Kindle version of Cheryl Strayed’s book, Wild. Much as I admired her

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Money, Gold and Promises

Hyperbole: Extravagant exaggeration; language that describes something as better (or worse) than it actually is. (Merriam Webster) In August, 1904, two men were crouched on the desert ground in semi-darkness before dawn. They held their hands over a small campfire to warm themselves. The morning breeze smelled of the heat that would come later, when

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Lines written a few miles above Walter’s Wiggles

There’s no accounting for the passage of time. Clocks and calendars while seeming to measure the flow of moments or years or lifetimes, aren’t really up to the task. How can 600 pages torn from faded calendars explain why some fifty year-old memories seem as fresh to me as last week’s? How can a canyon

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Got (RAW) Milk?

I grew up on whole, raw, unpasteurized, non-homogenized, unaltered milk fresh from our organic pasture-fed herd of Guernsey cows. Now, to be fair, the word “organic” wasn’t thrown around back in those days, but we did not use any herbicides, pesticides, or artificial fertilizer on our pastures, so I think our green meadows qualified. You

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The Cutest Grandbaby in the World

[dropcap3]F[/dropcap3]or years I’ve seen those ubiquitous—at least in our more senior neighborhoods—bumper stickers urging everyone to, “Ask me about my grandchildren!” Sure. Fine. Maybe I will. Or not. Until little Esmee came along. My youngest, Scott, a child of California suburbia, earned his master’s degree in music from the New England Conservatory (NEC), in Boston.

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The Pacific Crest Trail in a Dry Year

A boy of about twenty, with a substantial pack and good hiking boots, long pants and dusty T-shirt stood at the Cienega Junction on the PCT. He was studying a small map with far too few details; his face looked drawn and was as gray and dusty as his clothes. Andrea and I had been

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