My Teef
Today was the big day. I'd finally get my tooth looked at, and if I was lucky, maybe get some answers. Being unemployed, I don't have health insurance. Then again, if this administration has its way, most of us won't. Thus I didn't visit my dentist of 20+ years. For one thing, I'd have to drive 400 miles north, and I don't have the money for that right now. Second, there's no guarantee I'd get in right away. So I'm taking my chances with the dental clinic at UCLA.
After filling out the usual forms (do you have a deranged uncle? At what age did you get your first cold? Are you sexually promiscuous, or just lying about it? How many teeth does the average 60-year-old have? How many teeth do YOU think you'll have when you're 60? If you answered "all," don't you think you're just a little too optimistic?), and handing them back to the receptionist, I sat and waited for the interpreter. And waited. And waited. An hour after my scheduled appointment time, the interpreter showed up (I've talked to her before; there's only *two* interpreters for deaf patients in all of the UCLA health system; one full-time (her), and one part-time. Sure, there's not that many deaf people in the total population, but still... It means that if there's more than one deaf person waiting for/in an appointment, the interpreter can't be there every minute, which means you're getting less than 100% access to communication. It doesn't get any better either. There's only two or three SPANISH-SPEAKING interpreters, and this is in a city/state where Anglos are the minority!). Turns out there's a deaf woman in the waiting room as well, so we are both ushered in at the same time, and the interpreter shuttles between the two of us. The supervising dentist curtly (and cursorily) checks the offending tooth, as well as the rest of my mouth. A student dentist can "fix the problem," so I'm accepted into the clinic. Whee. After that, it's off to billing, to get the paperwork squared away, then off to get my teeth x-rayed. Rather than the bitewing x-rays I'm used to, I'm going to have this metal monstrosity shoved in my mouth, with the film attached to it, and have 21 x-rays taken (I'm used to three or four!). The (student?) technician is nice, but I sit in fear that I'm going to be left with some scar on the roof of my mouth, or my tongue severed from the base, or some similar thing. Finally we're done, and she asks if I can wait a little while she develops the film. Sure, no problem: that's the tradeoff-- I get cheaper service at the expense of my time. She finally emerges only to tell me we've gotta redo one x-ray. *sigh* Sure, no problem. Back to the x-ray room, once more, and we're done. Turns out that this is a preliminary intake, and that I'll have to come back on a second appointment to actually have the damn tooth fixed. I still think it's a filling, but it means sipping every drink through straws for another week or two.
I'm concerned about how they're going to notify me about my next appointment, so I check in with the receptionist at the front desk, who I've previously buttered up (hint: ALWAYS be friendly to the secretary/receptionist, unless they're Assistants From Hell; you never know when just being nice might pay off later). She says they'll mail me a postcard with the necessary info. Given the postal service I've had of late, I'm dubious, but I fill out the card with my address and hand it back. Off I go...
SO... I'm still stuck with the tooth, but the end is in sight, hopefully. I understand late this month/early next is when I'd be seen, so we'll see what happens.
Oh, yes, it's Valentine's Day. If you're like me, you have mixed feelings about the day (at least I did in the past!). But a Happy Valentine's Day to you, regardless of how you plan to spend it. *smile*
After filling out the usual forms (do you have a deranged uncle? At what age did you get your first cold? Are you sexually promiscuous, or just lying about it? How many teeth does the average 60-year-old have? How many teeth do YOU think you'll have when you're 60? If you answered "all," don't you think you're just a little too optimistic?), and handing them back to the receptionist, I sat and waited for the interpreter. And waited. And waited. An hour after my scheduled appointment time, the interpreter showed up (I've talked to her before; there's only *two* interpreters for deaf patients in all of the UCLA health system; one full-time (her), and one part-time. Sure, there's not that many deaf people in the total population, but still... It means that if there's more than one deaf person waiting for/in an appointment, the interpreter can't be there every minute, which means you're getting less than 100% access to communication. It doesn't get any better either. There's only two or three SPANISH-SPEAKING interpreters, and this is in a city/state where Anglos are the minority!). Turns out there's a deaf woman in the waiting room as well, so we are both ushered in at the same time, and the interpreter shuttles between the two of us. The supervising dentist curtly (and cursorily) checks the offending tooth, as well as the rest of my mouth. A student dentist can "fix the problem," so I'm accepted into the clinic. Whee. After that, it's off to billing, to get the paperwork squared away, then off to get my teeth x-rayed. Rather than the bitewing x-rays I'm used to, I'm going to have this metal monstrosity shoved in my mouth, with the film attached to it, and have 21 x-rays taken (I'm used to three or four!). The (student?) technician is nice, but I sit in fear that I'm going to be left with some scar on the roof of my mouth, or my tongue severed from the base, or some similar thing. Finally we're done, and she asks if I can wait a little while she develops the film. Sure, no problem: that's the tradeoff-- I get cheaper service at the expense of my time. She finally emerges only to tell me we've gotta redo one x-ray. *sigh* Sure, no problem. Back to the x-ray room, once more, and we're done. Turns out that this is a preliminary intake, and that I'll have to come back on a second appointment to actually have the damn tooth fixed. I still think it's a filling, but it means sipping every drink through straws for another week or two.
I'm concerned about how they're going to notify me about my next appointment, so I check in with the receptionist at the front desk, who I've previously buttered up (hint: ALWAYS be friendly to the secretary/receptionist, unless they're Assistants From Hell; you never know when just being nice might pay off later). She says they'll mail me a postcard with the necessary info. Given the postal service I've had of late, I'm dubious, but I fill out the card with my address and hand it back. Off I go...
SO... I'm still stuck with the tooth, but the end is in sight, hopefully. I understand late this month/early next is when I'd be seen, so we'll see what happens.
Oh, yes, it's Valentine's Day. If you're like me, you have mixed feelings about the day (at least I did in the past!). But a Happy Valentine's Day to you, regardless of how you plan to spend it. *smile*
posted by Mr. Sandman | 4:01 PM
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