This Saturday just past, we were meant to catch up with my father and his defacto, however it had to be postponed because my father had an infected eye with a gash on his cornea.  So instead of a nice picnic lunch on the bay I took my seven year old to the shops to buy track pants and socks for school, nowhere near as much fun but a necessary activity.  In the car on the way to the shops Claire asked “is grandpa alright?”, I told her that he had been to a specialist and he was going to be fine.  The word ‘specialist’ must have rung alarm bells in her head because she gasped and said “How much did it cost?”.  Poor thing, only seven and already concerned with the cost of medical care!

I had another appointment with the endodontic specialist today. As lay in the dental chair I made a big mistake… I didn’t close my eyes. Instantly my pupils dilated (at least I’m pretty sure they did) and my head shook as I saw that HUGE needle headed for my mouth. I snapped my eyes shut but it was too late, fear entered my body. My heart rate accelerated and my mouth went dry. Calm blue ocean, clam blue ocean, calm bloody BLUE OCEAN! I repeated it over and over in my head and finally I calmed down. Then the next hurdle presented itself and I started to panic once again, I couldn’t breath! I was at the tail end of a cold and my nose was still blocked quite a bit. I didn’t want to cancel my appointment because I didn’t want to wait another eight weeks for another appointment. but perhaps I should have. I had a rubber dam in my mouth so breathing through my mouth was not an option… air…air… I needed air. I took a deep breath through my nose and it cleared all the mucus… thank God… I could breath again. This happened about three times during the hour long root canal but the real scary part was yet to come… paying the bill! $1560 later I was freed from the clutched of the endodontic group, that brought my total to $5000 exactly for just two teeth! It was now time for lunch but considering we don’t actually have the money for all this dental work (God bless credit cards) I was reluctant to spend any money. What was I to do? Then it hit me… give blood. So over to the blood bank I went to see if they could fit me in. They had one space available so in I went and got poked with yet another needle then out I came with a sandwich, sausage roll, cappuccino and sultanas all for FREE. Now that’s how you get lunch without spending a cent!

My ingrown toenail is slowly getting better because my aunt filed it in the center which reduced the pressure (thanks Aunty Carole).  After a couple of days the swelling reduced enough for me to be able to touch it without crying out in pain.  So out came the big guns… matches and a needle.  I struck a match and shoved that needle into the flame attempting to make it somewhat sterilized.  I braced myself and pushed that pin into the skin beside my toenail.  That didn’t hurt as mush as I expected so while I was feeling brave I gave my big toe an all mighty squeeze.  Well the result made my husband feel physically ill and I have to admit my stomach started doing flips. Pus exploded out of that needle puncture and erupted out from under my nail to ooze all over my toe. After a couple more squeezes I filled up a bucket with warm salty water and shoved my foot in.  Yep… here was the pain.  I must have plunged my toe right in a clump of undissolved salt because that toe of mine was stinging like I’d shoved it into a hive of bees.  Oh well, no pain no gain and all that jazz.  I’m just glad my toe is looking a little more like a normal toe, still quite ugly but I can blame my mother for that one.  You should see her toes… UGLY!

I’m not scared of the dentist but after this last visit I’m not too thrilled about seeing one again.   It was an endodontic specialist who charged me $3440 to fix one tooth and took pleasure (I’m sure) in filling my mouth with stitches as he cut into my jaw bone to remove an infected cyst.  At first all went well I got to relax and lie down with big over sized glasses on… quite fashionable these days. The root canal was done then things got serious, the white cloth on my chest was removed and a more clinical blue cloth took its place.  Another assistant entered with BIG needles and a tray of torture devices just for me.  The next thing I knew I was being sliced open from the inside of my mouth with three sets of eyes on me.  I decided it was best if I just calmed myself down by slowly counting (inside my head of course) 1… 2…3… 4…5.  I stopped at 382.  It’s surprising how the ability to count departs when the crunching of your own bone can be heard.  I turned my thoughts to the bus I was going to catch home after this.  If I could just get to the bus this would all be over.  Well after being prodded and poked, sliced and diced, I was stitched up and sent on my way.. after paying the bill that is.  I made it to that glorious bus that would take me home and away from these professional torturers.  I must have been quite a sight with a mouth full of swabs and bloody teeth.  No one sat next to me, maybe the ice pack I held to my jaw kept them away.  Now I sit at home hardly able to talk (much to the delight of my husband) not able to eat and a face so swollen it looks like I have been in the ring with a professional boxer.  Why do we do it?  Why do we let these so called professionals torture us?

The dentist is bad enough but when you hear them say “specialist” the room starts to spin before your eyes.  Your pockets start to burn and instantly your stress level rises.  Well at least that’s what happens to me.  After a troublesome root canal I thought my teeth problems were over, how wrong I was.  A bone cyst in my jaw is now the latest drama and of course only a specialist can see to that.  So now while I wait for my referral letter to arrive by post my husband is having a mini breakdown.  How much will it cost? what is it? how do we fix it and how on earth are we going to pay for it?  Did I mention we are not in a health fund? You just know that the bill will be in the thousands and I can think of plenty of other things I could do with that money….if I had it.  Now I guess I’ll be paying for the “specialists” children to be put through private education.  Oh, the joys of life.