When dealing with the medical community, do you ever get the feeling that you have to jump through rings lit on fire to get anything done? I do, and it's over something that should be so simple. Let me explain. I have all four of my wisdom teeth still at age 32. They didn't grow in impacted, crooked, or jagged. I have never had a problem. At least not until recently.
My lower left wisdom tooth is becoming a bit of a problem. The problem is minor compared to the usual troubles associated with wisdom teeth. Every so often I bite down on the surrounding gum which causes minor inflammation and pain. So, I went to my dentist who referred me to an oral surgeon. I meet with the oral surgeon and am told to my face that he doesn't like me, I'm complicated.
I can see your jaws dropping. Yep, that's really what he said to me. So I go and get a referral to another oral surgeon whom I saw today. She's leaving her practice and according to her, none of the people who are replacing her are qualified to handle me. Another dead end. I call my mom on my way home and ask her to make me an appointment with a new dentist. The dentist won't take me until next month but strongly urges my mom to go somewhere else because they really don't want to handle me either.
No I am not done yet. I get home and try to set up an appointment with a hospital that has a dental department that specializes in high-risk patients but they say they don't take my insurance even though my insurance says they do. By now you are probably wondering what makes me so complicated that no one wants to deal with me over a simple extraction. Here it is. I have seizures. I have grand mal seizures that are not controlled by medication.
I'm one of those lucky people for whom anti-seizure medication doesn't work. I also have a lot of seizures. I'm talking multiple seizures every day. This means, unlike most people, I can't sit in the chair in the oral surgeon's office, be given local anesthesia, and have my teeth pulled out in twenty minutes. Nope it couldn't be that simple.
To extract my wisdom teeth, I have to be admitted to the hospital and be put out completely just as if I was having major surgery. It's the only way to prevent me from having a seizure while very sharp, pointy objects are in my mouth. Ergo, no one wants to touch me. So bring on the rings of fire that I obviously need to jump through just to get one problem tooth taken care of. You know, I was first diagnosed wih seizures at age 4. You'd think that by now I'd be used to people treating me like I have the plague. But believe it or not, I'm not. Especially not from people who deal with serious health issues every day.
I guess even the medical community has its phobias and people with seizures are persona non grata. Who knew?