The Validation of a Smile (My Struggle With Trying To Find Help For A Debilitating Back Injury) By Trent “I just want to get my smile back.” These were the words that fell deafly upon the ears of the first dentist that I had seen in years. It was a free service provided through the local health department. It was a service that I didn’t know existed. It was a service done out of charity and kindness. For all the x-rays of teeth, the picking and poking with sharp metal objects darting about the mouth, there was much that the dentist couldn’t see; far more that he couldn’t know. Rather, he had to deal in the immediacy of the moment; something that at times misplaces the humanity found within another person. My mouth was filled with rotting teeth, deteriorating gums, and the remains of front teeth kicked out years prior during a soccer game only to be replaced by caps that would, too, disappear over time. This is what he saw, not me, nor the struggles or even the services that I, too, provided, within my own time, and within my own way. Fast forward a few years to tonight -- “Open your mouth … Your teeth are rotted. Why?” “Well Doc, to be honest, I haven’t been able to afford dental care.” “But you have had multiple MRI’s on your back over the past few years. Surely you could have used that money to pay for dental care.” “No, not actually. I am at least twenty thousand dollars in debt from unpaid medical expenses. Due to the severity of my back injury, I haven’t been able to work in a couple of years. A fact that I am not happy about, but one that I have been at the mercy and guidance of others in trying to remedy. The reality is that I have a window of five to ten minutes where I can stand, or fifteen to twenty minutes where I can sit upright before I am consumed with pain that sends me reeling to the floor. I tend to sleep as much as is humanly possible for it is through which that I am able to escape the pain, momentarily as it might be. But even now my injury grows worse. I am unable to lay down at all. The threshold of pain has increased exponentially while my functionality has decreased significantly.” “But this hasn’t always been the case. When you were working, why did you not utilize your health insurance to seek treatment?” “Doc, you assume that I had adequate health care. I did not. See, when you look at me, you see a man at wit’s ends without investigating the causality of which. You make many assertions without conclusive evidence to back it up. Had you done the necessary testing, you would have learned that from the early years of my twenties onward, I was working only jobs that I could be called away from, or call off from at a moment’s notice for I had a father dying of cancer to care for, and a mother in desperate need of care that she had otherwise dismissed due to depression and the want to isolate away from a world that she grew ever more skeptical of. Unto each of them I gave my focus while my peers stole themselves away amongst their studies and professional achievements, thus setting themselves up for a better, more eloquent life free of such assumptions.” “Unto each of them, I gave up myself -- a broken tooth here, the ability to financially save there, to even a journal filled with broken dreams and a zeal for life unrequited as with everyone that I came upon saw only my afflictions and scarcely my own humanity and the offerings that I provided. I was made nothing as I gave everything to do what I thought best for my parents, my siblings, and my community. I was made nothing, and that is reflected within your attitude and assumptions of me now. You are not the first to look down upon me. You are not the first to readily dismiss my individual worth. You are not the first to assail my very memories with such callousness, and I doubt that you will be the last.” “But Trent, your last MRI has shown signs of improvement. Your ‘injury’ is moderate at best.” “Doc, this is the reading of an MRI done by a radiologist that even you have to refer to in gauging the next course of action -- surgery or therapy. Your colleague this morning suggested a level of ignorance as a justification for the ineptitude and lack of treatment since I have come upon each of you hat in hand for assistance. And this is the first time in nearly two years since the MRI was taken that I have been told of an improvement. This would be great news if it weren’t for the fact that the pain levels haven’t decreased, nor have I gained mobility back within my extremities. This, then, defies both logic and the interpretation of my last MRI.” “What then would you have me do?!” “I was sent here for another MRI and possible emergency surgery due to the significant increase in my symptoms.” “There are no MRIs done after 6 pm. There is no one here to do them due to budgetary constraints.” “Then why in the bloody hell was I sent here today?” “Listen, if you raise your voice at me again, I will walk out of this room and have security remove you from the building.” That does it, I want a patient rep! I dont have to deal with this attitude, Doc. There are no patient reps. They all leave at six as well. “Isnt that convenient for you? In regard to your threat of having me removed, have you seen your security guards? Not for nothing but even with a broken back I could outrun them.” “Are you trying to be funny?” “I am a comedian, but no, that was more a statement of fact.” “Either way, I fail to see the humor in it. So I will ask you again, what is it that you want me to do?” “That is the question to ask after all isn’t it, Doc? At this point, and in light of your indifference, I do not know. You look at me like countless others have over the course of fifteen years in dealing with what I would assume to be a curable injury. You look at me as if I were a two-bit pill junkie wanting my next fix. When I look at you, in spite of the years of ‘I am limited in what I can do,’ or ‘I’ll have to give you a referral to someone else for this’ as I have heard ad nauseum further feeding my skepticism and frustration, I see hope that maybe, just maybe, I can get through to this one. Maybe this one is willing to think outside of the box and find a solution that will give me back that which I have been forced to idly watch ripped from my very hands gradually, apathetically, and regardless of my howls at the moon or clenched fists raised to a wayward God. -- my ability to function; to work, and to have a life outside of this very injury that has taken far more from me than you could ever fathom.” “I have seen your history. You are not here nearly enough for me to consider you in that light.” “Thank you Doc. You are the very first one to see past the jadedness of your profession within the modern age of pill addiction.” “Okay, let’s start over. So what medications have worked for you in the past? Let’s start there.” “None of them really to be honest. With each new doctor offering varying diagnoses of my injury, I have always conceded to their best judgement as to what may work. Each time as I swallowed pill after pill, I did so with the hope that perhaps today would be the day that the medicines work, that today I would regain my life as if I were Robert De Niro in the heart wrenching movie ‘Awakenings’ coming out of a twenty year long comatose state that, in spite of the years stolen from him -- the formative experiences, and the opportunities of personal achievement or renewal -- that he could still find purpose; that he could still find love and happiness. That at the end of the day in spite of the adversities he faced, life was there waiting to shower him with the very things that would make his contempt melt away thereby allowing him the chance to pick up where life, for whatever reason, decided to hit the pause button even when he was still within the ‘play’ mode.” “Poetically said.” “Thank you. I am know to turn a phrase or two.” “Indeed. Well, how about this? What has worked for you in regard to your pain?” “Doc, in the time that I have been dealing with this type of injury, this is the very first time that anyone has either asked me such a question, or was willing to address this particular symptom.” “Okay, then let’s do this … I’m putting you back on the Neurotin, the Flexeril, and Skelaxin …” “What about the Cymbalta and the Lyrica?” “I want you to continue those as well. When I had a herniated disc, which was nowhere near what you are dealing with -- your’s being a multi-layered injury extending the L2 through S3 portion of the spine -- I was on five different medications for a couple of months …” “...” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing Doc. You are the first medical professional in the past few years that has actually validated the very fact that I am suffering from a legitimate spinal injury without me having to take them by the hand and walk them through the multiple MRIs, various diagnoses, or such misinformation given to me by your colleagues. I’m just taken aback by your response.” “You shouldn’t be, but thank you for the compliment. Now then, I also want you back on the steroids. We won’t know whether they are going to work upon your inflammation until we try them. But hey, even if they don’t work on your back, come bikini weather you will be rocking some serious six pack abs.” “...” “Trent, are you smiling?” “Yes Doc, and thank you for that.” “It was the abs joke wasnt it?” “Not so much, but for seeing me as more than just a medical chart, and by offering me a glimmer of hope that has been sorely lacking lo these many darkened days. Just the same, the joke needs some work if you are going to try to steal my job ... Just saying.” “Not a problem. Let me get these prescriptions for you and then you will be on your way to better days and a far more vibrant life.” “I hope so Doc, I hope so.” “Just try to keep those selfies you will be posting of your abs to a minimum on Facebook will you?” “Can I sue you for malpractice of a good joke?” “I’ll have to refer you to a specialist on that one.” “Touche Doc, touche.”
Posted on: Fri, 07 Feb 2014 06:15:56 +0000
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