So you may have noticed that I've been absent from the blogosphere this past week. I've had one of those weeks when it is all you can do to stay afloat. The raging and ongoing infection deep in my jawbone has not only been turning me into a grumpy bear, but a slightly disturbed one. I have spent countless hours (and probably countless £'s in phone charges) 'telephone- stalking' my local hospital in an attempt to arrange the surgery I so desperately need.
Monday, 27 April 2009
(I am quite sure that my hospital records now have the initials 'C.L.' ("Crazy Lady") scribbled beside my name, with an added note warning that under NO circumstances am I to be called. That is the only reason I can come up with, why despite an average of four hours calling per day, I haven't been able to reach a single person who is able to help me sort out this desperate situation.)
I even got so desperate last week that I googled emergency dentists and came up with practice somewhere south of London which took me three hours round trip to journey to. Upon arrival my heart sank as I saw it was part of a lack-lustre 'strip mall' deep in the suburbs, and reception was being manned by what appeared to be a former Eastern European prostitute.
Things didn't get any better when I was ushered inside an office by a grinning Asian dentist who although possessing a hilarious sense of humor (or so he himself thought), seemed intent on carrying out the surgery right there and then, even beginning a process of bargaining on the price!
I stood there confused and flustered as he told his hijab-covered assistant to close the door and tried to cajole me back into the chair. Just in time I remembered my sister's urgent warning not to do ANYTHING that day without going home and thinking about it first.
I managed to escape his eager clutches, but was then escorted dismissively back to the mini-skirted and black stocking clad receptionist, and only there did I sneak a peek at the screen and see that the dentist had typed in 'needs lots of treatment!' gleefully beside my name. I also discovered that the surgeon I needed to see wasn't even working that day and that the man I had seen was merely a visiting associate (a cash-strapped relative perhaps?) who had sneakily made the appointment with himself when I had rung in anxious and desperate that morning (sigh)....Why do these things always happen to me?
Also, helpfully, on the weekend I read a big article on the dangers of abcesses and mouth infections left untreated. Apparently the infection can spread to various organs in the body and particularly the heart. Great. So on top of the agonising dread of the approaching surgery, there is now every likelihood that I have permanently put myself at serious health risk - and yet I am still no closer to resolving the situation.
My latest two options involve a local dentist who is willing to 'give it a go' this week although she is admittedly no oral surgeon but says she likes a challenge....or I can travel across London to a large dental hospital and if they deem me to be in enough pain they shall perhaps carry out the surgery there and then (but possibly by a student dentist)...urgghhhhhh!!!!
Alternatively I was told this morning that if I don't mind my health deteriorating further, and am willing to put up with the constant pain until say mid to late June, then I might just get that hospital appointment after all.
Posted by "Moaning Mum" at Monday, April 27, 2009