Last Friday, I got my bottom wisdom teeth removed. No big deal. I'm a little young for the procedure (fifteen) but I've had braces on for years and the bottoms are becoming impacted, so it's time to pop them out. My original surgeon sadly wasn't available so I had no choice but to go to another. Surgery goes well, yadda yadda. The doctor is horridly insincere and the nurses are air-headed, but I let it pass. 8AM on a Friday morning, I'm sure they probably hadn't had their coffee yet. That isn't one hundredth of the bad service.
It's Tuesday and I feel awful. The meds I have been prescribed are making me vomit like no other, the swelling still hasn't gone down, I'm still on a liquid diet, and my face is permanently drawn into a grimace, since I couldn't do much other than sob. I called the doctors and they schedule me in first thing today. Okay, that's fine. Anything to make the pain go away.
I get there this morning and I'm put in the surgical room. Cue the doctor. He asks me my symptoms. I tell him the medicine I have been prescribed is making me vomit, how it hurts to lay my head on pillows, talk, and how my face is still swollen. He kinda stares at me blankly before going, "K, dry socket. I'll put in the meds nao." This put me off a little bit. I ask if he's going to check to make sure, but he just goes, "Nah, you can't really tell. So.. I'll just put the meds in." .. Okay? That's kinda weird but I let it pass. He's a doctor, and even though I could probably have some horrendous infection where octopi of the deep south are mutating and growing through my tender gums, he's seen it a million times before and knows his facts. So I open as wide as I can, muttering quiet "Sorry.."s before he YANKS my jaw open and literally SHOVES the medicine down into the sockets of my teeth. D: I really couldn't open my mouth that much, obviously, and yanking it didn't feel nice at all, especially without a soft warning or a nice reminder to try and open wider.
I know it's not supposed to feel good, but I swear he was imagining that I was one of his ex-wives or something, because it was SO careless and SO painful that I began to cry, and complain about my stomach being upset. He just sneered and goes, "Yeah. It tastes bad. Sorry. I'll take it out if your weak stomach can't handle it." .. WTF? It says clearly on his chart that I've got anxiety issues and I specifically TOLD him that the MEDICATION was hurting my stomach. Pinesol-tasting cotton has NOTHING to do with it. He then turns to my dad and says, "Give her advil three times a day, even if she isn't hurting."
My dad pipes in with, "Well, she's been taking ibuprofen an-"
"Advil and Ibuprofen are the same thing."
.. Wtf? At least let him finish his sentence. He's not a stupid person. I'm not a stupid person. Just because I'm only fifteen doesn't mean that you are above me, because clearly your personable manners are not very well-kept at all.
He then scooted me out of the room and made the secretary fix me another appointment for tomorrow to remove and replace the dressings tomorrow afternoon. :/ What do you think I should do then? I'm kind of scared of going back now. Advice? D:
But there was some good service. As I left the building I collapsed in the hallway half from my anxiety and half from nausea, and one of the nurses who was running an errand or two came out to make sure I was okay and offered me a bed or a wheelchair if I needed it, and kinda petted my hair all maternal-like. <3 She was really sweet. I hope I see her tomorrow.
On a funny side note, the other nurse who ushered me in gave me a paper containing details about dry socket, and I told her, "Well, I'm taking an oral contraceptive for my severe menstrual cramps.. Aren't users of birth control more susceptible to the condition?" (Google for the win? 8D) and she just kinda blankly stares at me and goes, "... I don't... think so?"
Turns out it's in bold in the little pamphlet. Lol~ She can at least read the shit before handing it out. >__>;