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|it's like a nightmare|
|it started back in highschool. i was an idiot then. i had no idea which way was up, and now i know plenty of kids who are about as mature, intelligent and self-assured as i am now on a good day. i don't understand how this can be until i remember: i am still an idiot.|
i had a dentist named Jerome Shatoff. he was a terrible dentist. perhaps he had an ether problem, but his work was painful and done without any craft or attention to detail. so his fillings always broke or fell out or came loose. he is solely responsible for 2 later root canals, one had to wait 3 days in excruciatingly loud, exquisite torturous pain while i waited for the cheap clinic to come back from a long weekend.
naturally, when i had insurance, i'd go to dentists and they would say - the dental assistants would say "my god! who did this to you?" and i would answer "Yerrow Hkahogh" because their fingers were in my mouth. they'd say "you should have these fillings replaced, but your insurance (through parents or school i don't recall) won't cover a replacement filling.
some of his work looked fine from the outside, but wasn't burnished properly so by and by things would get inside the tooth and work in secret.
i found out about a fantastically good triple-supervised clinic in washington hts, but it took me over an hour to get there, and often it took 2 or 3 preliminary visits before they'd actually do anything, so no matter how much of a priority i made getting my teeth fixed, and it did cost money there, there just wasn't enough time. it took two years just to get caught up to where i was supposed to have been all along.
my wisdom teeth had come in too. the bottom ones were and remain at bad angles, pressing against other teeth, causing decay, also acting as a catch where everything i eat gets stuck and there's almost nothing that can reach back there, so i'm pissed at my parents for not thinking of this before having me.
when the lower wt's came in, one abscessed, so i went in for an emergency extraction, after another long weekend. they x-rayed me just in case something had changed in 3 weeks since the last films were shot, and then put me in a chair, where seven or eight students and oral surgeons crowded over my "highly unusual anatomy" and gave me the littany of possible risks, including peristhesia, permanent or temporary; infection; a broken jaw; or a bit of plaque getting into my bloodstream, travelling to my heart, lodging there in a valve, growing, and ultimately killing me.
so they injected me with fully 2 ampules of lydocaine, maybe more, and crowded in so that i could not breath. i passed out, came to for a moment just in time to vomit into a bedpan, and be sent home, numb and in shock.
they didn't tell me how to prepare, so i took the advice of some shithead who told me that they would surely sedate me for the extraction, and if i'd eaten anything in the previous 12 or so hours, i ran the risk of partially regurgitating and aspirating the contents of my stomach, which could kill me. so i didn't eat. and because i find it almost impossible - it was in fact impossible for me at the time to run on a regular schedule, i wasn't able to get to sleep until about 4 or 5 that morning, and the motherfuckers had told me that i might not get treated if i wasn't there before 8 or 9 am, which to me was an almost inconceivably early time.
i was extremely sleep deprived, had that awful rotgut feeling which comes whenever i'm up before noon, no blood sugar, and they scared the living hair out of me on top of it.
i never did get my lowers extracted. they still bother me, the left one must be totally rotten, along with the molar it's pressed against. i don't have the money for general anaesthesia, i don't have the ability to not pass out and throw up, having had 6 years to meditate on the risks as they were ennumerated that day.
i went back last summer though, the last thing i was able to have done during the 9 minutes where my disaster relief medicaid was in effect between their fucking it up and cancelling it becase they called me samantha on my card when i am a man. shithead beaurocrats. and they know that beaurocracy doesn't work, but what can you do when you get a steady stream of beatendown assholes coming at you complaining that they're not getting their basic needs met? you hand them more paperwork, which asks for information they do not know about themselves, and deny them care based on their own ignorance, and feel justified because you operated within the rules.