Little Shop of Horrors

Last night half of one of Vince's upper molars fell out. This has happened before - he's lost a few teeth in the past years. This morning I called our dentist who is the sweetest guy and a really good dentist, certain that he would take care of it as always. Well, he didn't have any time to see Vince this week and is going away next week, so he referred us to an oral surgeon in our neighborhood - made an appt. for us at 11:00.

So, as my stressed caregiver mind feared that we were about to meet the dentist from "Little Shop of Horrors", my aide and I got Vince into the car and we arrived at Dr. K's office at 10:50, in time to fill out the reams of paperwork that are inevitable when you go to a new doctor. And yes, there were reams. After the receptionist made a copy of Vince's dental discount card (which wouldn't give us a discount there, anyway), I filled out pages of Vince's medical history (what I know of it), signed privacy statements, and pledges to pay the bill after services rendered.

Then we sat and waited...and waited...and waited. At 11:20, the receptionist asked if I brought a referral from our dentist - I said no, we were not there, and that our dentist made this appt. for us this morning. This was not good enough - so they needed to have our dentist fax a referral - more waiting time for us.

Meanwhile, they typed up another form for me to sign, giving permission to give novocaine and to extract Vince's tooth, making me aware that either of these procedures carried the myriad risks of infection, dizziness, giddiness, muscle damage, bone damage, jaw damage, high blood pressure, maybe even death - and the list went on. This is what happens from doctors being sued so much. I just ignored it all and signed the form, praying that God would protect Vince from all those hazards. I mean it's only novocaine and a tooth extraction, both of which he (and everyone else) has had numerous times with no problems.

Speaking of praying, at that point I took out my Rosary beads that I had brought along, and silently said a whole Rosary (20 minutes), and we were still waiting! Meanwhile, they asked me if it was Vince's #13 tooth that was the problem - well, I'm not a dentist, I don't know what "number" it is, but to look in his mouth, it's obvious; plus our dentist should have told them.

So finally they took an Xray of Vince's mouth, and then we waited some more.

Two more patients came in meanwhile, and were seen immediately. At 12:00, as I was about to suggest that we return on a day when they actually had time for Vince, they took us in! At this point I was about to cry, but we were finally going to see the grand, high, exalted, mystic dentist! (Actually he was an oral surgeon, which meant "lots more expensive!"). So after two antibiotic pills, Dr. K entered, and was actually quite nice - not at all scary - and he proceeded to start the job by 12:20. We were out of there at 1:00, $445 dollars poorer, and full of instructions for rinsing, soft food, etc. etc. etc., more antibiotics.

Dr. K also gave Vince a script for Vicodin in case he had pain - I won't fill it, because Vince never complains of pain from an extraction; and if he did, ibuprofen would suffice. Don't worry - I won't fill it for myself either, as painful as this caregiving stuff is. God is my Vicodin!