Teeth Hurt the Worst!!!

I knew it was going to happen. It was bound to, because of the very long delay between when the treatment plan would be approved and when I could get in to my dentist again. You see, my dental stuff isn’t very easy, meaning I can’t just walk in a get something fixed. Because I’m funded by the Ryan White Foundation for me dental care ($1500/year, which is much appreciated by me, believe me), every year a treatment plan has to be submitted to them by my dentist. Hopefully the approval for the plan will come back very quickly, but that is often NOT the case. The last time I saw my dentist, she told me what was left to be done, and then called me later with the total for the entire treatment plan she was submitting ($1567, meaning I’ll have to pay only the extra $67, an incredible amount of help), and that it would be back, approved, by my next appointment. Okay, and yay, right?

Well, being a public health dental office, they are shorthanded, at least four dentists and a few assistants. And because of the contract I must be seen by “my” dentist only. That’s okay… I like her a lot. She’s been great, handling my extreme dental phobia. Plus, she just cracks me up all the time. She sings along with the piped music; tells me all about her life while she’s working on me… great distractions. It’s just that, because of the short staff, and because of the contract, and because I can see only her, it’s often quite a length of time before my next appointment. For example, when I saw her at the end of August, it wasn’t until Oct. 30th that I could next get in with her. (And I was accepting of any appointment time, not just my normal preferred morning appointment.) She asked the scheduler to triple-book me earlier, if at all possible… and since she’s double- and triple-booked already, the best that could be done was moving me up a week earlier, to Oct. 23rd. At the time, it wasn’t an issue. The tooth that was to be worked on next (root canal and crown, the worst off of the work left to be done) was not causing pain or anything.

Of course, that changed. Last Thursday I felt some pressure on the lower right, front, that told me the tooth was about to blow. By late morning, Friday, the pain was pretty bad and the swelling had started. I tried to get in as an emergency to the dentist office, but they never called me back. (I’ve since been told to not leave a message, but try just about any button selection to get to a live body. Didn’t know that at the time!) By Friday night I could barely open my mouth and the pain was incredible, the worst I have had since 1994, which turned out to be a dental issue, too, but involved being thrown out of basically every emergency room in the area because I was at them so much. They thought I was trying to get the major narcotic shot, scamming for the high, etc.

So, well… my weekend was pretty miserable. I realized I am now in a much better place, mentally, because back in 1994 I was put under a pretty extreme suicide watch due to the pain. My doctor (or a nurse) was calling me pretty much every hour; cops would show up at the door at any time, unannounced; friends were enlisted to call; K was supposed to call on his breaks and his lunch hour, but you know him… he called only on his afternoon break, and then only to see what he got in the mail and what I was making for dinner. Yeah, well… see, even way back then in my relationship with him I was pretty much alone in dealing with health stuff… or anything, for that matter. Anyway, this time I wasn’t even close to being suicidal. I knew I could get through it. That is such a huge change from even just a few years ago, much less back in 1994.

But, as usual, I digress and chase bunnies. The weekend… awful. It was to the point where I felt I had to take myself to the ER. I dreaded it; emergency room, Sunday morning, always tons of people anyway, especially those whose only healthcare for themselves or their children is through the ER. I knew I was going to be there for a while, but, still, forgot my book when I left to go there. It’s just a few blocks away from me, so the painful drive wasn’t too bad. When I walked in, of course the first person I have to see is a total bitch. Maybe I would be, too, having to do that. But who knows… the other person (whom I thought was registering me) was pretty nice. I got checked in and found an empty seat… and then sat there for a few hours. Apparently, anyone with sniffly children is more important than someone in excruciating pain. Oh, and the guy who shops at military surplus, who’s obviously been through this before and knows how to play it… you know, the one who reeked so badly of stale alcohol and meth… yeah, him, in his army fatigues he bought, not earned… there were no patches or anything. Apparently he was drunk/high and fell, dislocating his shoulder. (He told the receptionist he did it during training maneuvers, and she was stupid enough to buy it.) He got whisked in right away, too, after a lot of us had already been there four hours.

Okay, so I was finally called, along with a few other people, to be taken back for treatment. I thought. I was put into a “room,” basically portioned-off areas separated by curtains that a lot of ERs have, and the doc came in right away. I was pretty impressed by that, actually. Anyway, she was pretty rough, examining my mouth, and it hurt like a bitch. We talked for a little bit about the pain, and I was stupid enough to mention that I take morphine already (even though, if she had looked at my chart, she would have seen that). Dumbshit me! The best she was going to be able to do, then, was to give me a nerve block on that side of my mouth. Hell, yes! Anything!

So I was moved to a little grouping of chairs, thinking I was waiting for the dental chair. Not so lucky. The nurse or aide or whatever she was that was in the “room” with the doctor and me came over and said I needed to go back to the “room,” because I had to register with the nurse. Huh? Whatever, I was about to get a shot for the pain and go home, so I was okay with it. I went back, waited for a few minutes while the guy I was waiting for handled a personal call — whatever, you sometimes have to do that when you have kids, right? — and then I checked in with him. All we did was go over my address information, insurance information and medications list, including allergies. Okay, fine… sent back to the little grouping of chairs… to wait and wait behind people that had been brought back even after I had. Whatever, again… I’m about to get some help, right?

I sat there, wondering how long it was going to be. It was only about a half-hour before I was called… to a desk around the corner… to fucking register for the emergency room. What the hell? I had to give my ID and insurance cards (which she was able to pull up on screen but had to photocopy anyway), go over my address again, sign consents to treat, etc., plus an extra for the nerve block… horrendous, but still much quicker than the people before me. I don’t know why it took over a half-hour for them, considering it was just a few minutes for me.

Anyway, now registered and waiting “just a few minutes” for the nerve block shot, I was moved to yet another waiting

area. There were just a few patients and their people there when I to there, but it quickly was filled to overflowing, and I gave up my seat to an elderly man whom no one else would even consider doing the same for. Bitches. I waited… and waited and waited and waited, for another couple of hours. During that time, no one from that waiting area was taken for treatment. When my ER doc came over, finally, I knew I wasn’t her first person, so I wasn’t expecting to be talked to. But she came to each of us, which was when I learned that she was the ONLY doc in the ER at that time, and for several more hours. And she herself had to give me the shot, even though the nurse’s are qualified, because of the type of nerve block. My hopes of getting home anytime soon had already faded. Now I was really wishing I hadn’t forgotten my book.

But it wasn’t until she told me that it wasn’t going to be for another four to six hours until I could get the two-minute shot that I was given the option of just taking a prescription for antibiotics and getting out of there. That’s what I did, too. I wasn’t about to sit there any longer even though I was in so, so much pain.

I got the hell out of there, in terrible pain and with a prescription I couldn’t get filled until the following day, and went home to lick my wounds and feel really sorry for myself. It was yet another sleepless night, but I went directly to my clinic the next (Monday) morning, throwing myself on their mercy, basically.

Of course, they took care of me, signing off on the Rx so I could have it filled at my pharmacy there; plus, they gave me pain meds, too, even though I already have morphine on board. Even with my “history” of being on narcotic pain medications for so long, they didn’t see a reason I should be punished and made to suffer. So I got an Rx for Lortabs, too. By Monday evening I was still hugely swollen, but felt almost human again. I was able to get sleep, which made a huge difference.

I tried for the next couple of days to get into the dental clinic, even though I knew they really couldn’t do anything until the course of antibiotics was done. I was just starting early to get seen for “any problem,” as my dentist had instructed. I never, ever got called back, and it wasn’t until I saw my counselor on Thursday that I found out they just flat don’t return calls. My counselor called, talked to a live body while I was there in the room, and got nowhere at all. They’re sticking to my having to be seen by the contracted doctor, even though it would be considered an emergency. And they weren’t going to give me an emergency appointment time anyway because way back on September 6th I incurred a $15 charge as a no-show. I called, but it was “after the appointment time” so they’re charging me. Of course it was after the appointment time… my appointment was for 7:30 a.m.; they are supposed to open at 7:30 a.m.; I started calling at 7:15 to let them know I needed to get a jump from AAA and that I would be a little late; they didn’t turn on their phones until almost 7:45, well after my appointment time; then I was told that they couldn’t see me later, and that I would have to pay the $15. That was way back, as I said, on September 6th. I’d been seen SINCE then, dumbfuckers!, and was told everything was okay.

So, well… as I said, my counselor wasn’t able to get me any further than I had, although she DID talk to a live body. As it stands now, I am to finish the course of antibiotics and hope that they keep things clear until I can finally be seen on the 23rd. And oh… I have to pay the $15 charge before then or I won’t be seen. Yeah, like I always just happen to have an extra $15 lying around, you know, especially when I was trying to follow their rules but they didn’t hold up their end. Doesn’t matter… I am apparently at their mercy, no matter no how.

As for now, the pain isn’t too bad, and I’ve not been taking the Lortabs. I took them for just two days because I had a concern, which came true. Being on them for just two days started the withdrawal process again (from the morphine) and I’ve been sweaty and swampy again since early Wednesday morning. Who cares? At least I can function again. I’ve been back on solid foods since late Wednesday night, although I am most definitely glad I live alone. I’m sure it wasn’t pretty, watching me suck in through a barely-openable mouth some soup broth, then seeing me push the potatos and carrots up against my lips, then shoving them in with the back of the spoon. And it wasn’t until I went to the bathroom, later, that I saw that my right chin was covered with soup, which had also run down my neck. I don’t know if it’s the pressure from the swelling infection, or permanent (I hope not) nerve damage. But my lower lip is numb, as is a big part of my right cheek… kind of like the numbness one has after dental work. How ironic, huh?

So, well… as it stands now: still swollen; pain mostly managed; on antibiotics; and hoping there are no more problems with it until I can get the root canal, etc., on the 23rd. Risky, huh? Ah, the excitement of my life!