The day I had my “wisdom” teeth out

9/16/05

Like the majority of us, I had to get my wisdom teeth pulled. The doc wanted to do it at Children’s Hospital, which I was fine with me. In fact, I was more comfortable there; I didn’t have to worry about people being freaked about my disability. One less thing to worry about, people not understanding my needs. Boy, was I wrong.

The day of the surgery they call us in early. Which was great, because it wasn’t the fact they had to come out, it was the waiting that was killing me. Mom took me of course, on her day off. We ended up getting off on a different exit, the one that didn’t give a scenic view of the ghetto. Because of that, we were on the wrong side of the hospital, couldn’t find any handicapped parking. We followed bubble-butt signs, to a parking garage, and proceeded to find a spot there. We assumed that because it was designated handicapped, that a van would be able to park on the first floor…wrong. Top of the van hit the warning bar, and the garage guy (who’d been watching all along, and didn’t say anything) came running. I thought mom was going to go off, I would have. “You saw us before we drove in here, why didn’t you say anything?!” But she didn’t say anything, just followed his directions to back the van out. Like I said before, we were on the wrong side, so there where no handicapped spots. At the time I didn’t realize that, “Where the hell is handicapped?” He parked us by an unused ticket booth, marked with orange cones. I’m surprised we didn’t find a ticket on the windshield later that day, that’d be our luck. When I got out, I talked to him some. Basically said that there were many parking garages in the city that were tall enough for my van. And that we just assumed when we saw the disabled sign directing us were to go, we would be fine. Nobody understands.

I was weighed for the first time, in god knows how long. I was excited that I would finally know my true weight, and was happily surprised when I found out I’d been estimating 10 pounds over what it really was. They weigh you on what looks like truck scales, weigh the chair, then the chair with you in it. Subtract the difference. Before we got to the room, I explained it to mom. The absurd thing was, they asked me to take off my sandals. Now think for a second, how heavy can my sandals be, and what difference is that going to make on a scale that’s equipped for heavy duty weighing? We both made comments about, but the aides just went about their business. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.

I figured that with me being in a hospital, it was just a matter of time until they ask me for a urine sample. Before I used the bathroom I asked…”No, we don’t need one”, “Are YOU sure?” “We don’t”…“Are you POSITIVE?” Then after they start questioning me and finding out I’m sexually active, THEN they want a urine sample! What, just because I’m disabled there’s no way I have a sex life? Stupid people. It’s extremely hard for me to give a sample, and there was no way they were getting one from me now that I’ve gone. Only other way was to give me a blood test. I’m guessing that they didn’t want spend the money for that, so I got the “anesthesia may hurt you fetus” lecture. Right in front of mom too, lovely. I should’ve just pee’d a cup for the heck of it, rather they if needed it or not. Nobody understands.

Now for the grand finale! Who the hell knows why they asked me to be there early. We waited for 3 hours, part of the hospital rooms even changed shift we were there so long, so we had to go back out to the waiting room. We were the only ones there, like he’d forgotten about me. When the nurse came in to get me, “Kennedy?” “I guess so, being I’m the only one here.” She took me back to the operating table. By then I was so tired of waiting that I was actually excited that it was my turn. I pulled up to the table, saw it was way too high, asked if it could be lowered. Nope. “I guess you all are going to have to pick me up.” Now before I got out of my chair I showed them the off and on switch to my joystick. I was sure they knew where it was. Ok, so I’m up on the table trying to drift off to LalaLand with the little mask…. all I hear is them bickering and fussing over the chair. I push the mask off to figure out what the racket is about. “Oh well, they’ll figure it out.” I try to relax with the mask again. Will this surgery ever get on its way? Here I was, about to get cut, and all I can think about is what are they doing to my damn chair! I just couldn’t relax with all that going on out the corner off my eye. Four highly educated people, and not one of them could figure out one switch. One last time I push off the mask, rise up on my elbows, look over at them and holler, “Jesus Christ, I told you where the switch was!” I was through, LalaLand take me away from these freankin idiots. I remember thinking by then, I hope they ran themselves over with the chair. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.

An hour later, I woke up, mom got me dressed and I got the hell out of there. She was surprised I was alert enough to drive my chair. I was fine in three days, but I got a stupid infection. The stitches didn't fall out and the doctor didn't bother with a check up to check. I’m a pro at teeth pain, but it’s the infection that always gets me. As for my experience that day, there was clearly not enough “wisdom” to go around!


There is nothing special about being “Special”. Read another experience I had.


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