Whatever Happened to Caring and Compassion?

It’s turning out to be another one of those days where I just shake my head in disgust with people’s lack of compassion, thoughtfulness, and common sense. Ordinarily, I’m a fairly positive person, and try to convey that positivity and optimism to those around me. There are, however, always assholes (yeah, I said it!) out there to shoot you down.

Part One: The Surgery

To begin, Ruth was told a few weeks ago by her regular dentist that she was going to need some periodontal surgery. She had a tooth that was being slowly exposed down to the bone, and they were going to need to remedy this soon in order to save that tooth. They made her an appointment with the periodontist and her worry began. Aside from the fact that she remembered my horrible experience from periodontal surgery a few years back, the thought of having surgery inside her mouth, having something cut and scraped from her palate and sewn to her gums around her teeth was very scary to her. She immediately began talking about being sedated.

When she finally went to this other doctor, she was very nervous. Sadly, he was not very compassionate or caring. She intimated to me after that visit that she was not crazy about him, but the primary reason she gave me then was that he said he would not give her any post-op pain medication…that she could just take ibuprofen. That was a red flag to her, and that one thing just began to eat away at her, I could tell.  She did finally convince the guy to give her a little something to take the edge off…2mg of diazepam (valium). So she took that this morning before we left for this guy’s office. When we’d pulled up at the office, she shared with me some of the other things this doctor had told her during her first visit: things like, “if you take that valium, and then talk very much or ask any questions about what I’m doing, we’ll have to ‘abort’ and just stop.”  and “we don’t give stuff like that (narcotics), you’ll just have to deal with it.” WTH?? I swear, if I’d known some of these other things, we would have looked for another periodontist!

So, in this last week or so leading up to her surgery, she has worried and worried about how it’s going to hurt during and after the surgery. Sure, worry can be irrational at times, but it should have been addressed instead of dismissed.  She was doing her best to face this thing head-on and get it done.  The least…the VERY least the doctor could have done is to explain to her why he may have felt her worrying was unfounded or unnecessary. Ruth finally called our family doctor to see if she would consider calling in a prescription for a couple of post-op pain pills. When our doctor’s assistant called Ruth back to say they were calling something in to the pharmacy, she said the doctor couldn’t believe that this guy would do oral surgery and not offer someone medication for pain post-op.  But having this couple of pills…just in case….alleviated a lot of worry for Ruth, and allowed her just a bit of respite from all anxiety.

So, appropriately (in my opinion) gorked out, she made her way from the car into this office this morning, with lots of help and support from me. It was nice to see and find out that an old friend of mine was the receptionist in the office, and the receptionist’s niece, whose mom is also a good friend, was the assistant who would be helping. They called Ruth in almost immediately, so I helped her out of her coat, and handed her her phone and earphones, onto which we’d loaded some soothing music for her to listen to during her procedure. They helped her into the procedure room, and I sat down with my phone and magazine, prepared to busy myself for the wait time.

My friend, the receptionist and I had time to catch up on each other’s families, friends, and events in our lives. She also very professionally reminded me we’d have to pay the $300 + dollar remainder that insurance did not cover, before we left the office.  In the time I had left, I checked and responded to work emails, looked at a few pages of my magazine, and went to the restroom. Finally, the doctor appeared behind my friend in the reception window, and said to me, “Do you want to come back?”

“Sure.” I replied and went around the corner and down the hallway into the room after him.

On the way, he says to me, “It would have gone a lot faster and easier if she’d kept her mouth open.” I thought about it, and had all kinds of snappy come-backs, but I held back. One: She was relaxed completely and nearly asleep because of the valium. DUH! Two: Has this guy EVER worked with a sedated patient?!?! Three: Has he ever heard of bite blocks or retractors??

Ruth was still obviously gorked out when we entered the room, the assistant was still there, keeping an eye on her. The doctor said to me again…as if I didn’t hear him the first time, “We would have been done a long time ago if she’d kept her mouth open!”  Deep breath. I looked at the assistant, and let it go again. I asked Ruth how she was feeling, but she just kind of grunted. In front of Ruth was a computer screen on a swing arm, with a picture of her gum where he’d stitched this new graft. “This is what we did, “ he began, pointing to the picture and explaining how he’d harvested  the tissue graft from her palate, and then stitched it to this area of gum where she didn’t have enough bone or soft tissue to fully support the root of this tooth. Since he hadn’t elicited any response from me the first two times he said it, (presumably) he said once again, “It took longer because she couldn’t keep her mouth open.”

OK…he wants a response of some sort from me, obviously, so I simply said,  “Yeah, I guess that’s not easy when you have a sedative on board.” That was obviously the response he was looking for.

“That’s why we don’t want people taking those drugs before they come in. It’s hard to work on them in that state.”

I unclenched my tongue from between my teeth and replied, “I’m sure she’s not the first patient who’s been nervous about surgery and needed medication.” I said it calmly, but firmly, looking him straight in the eye, and I think he got the message that I wasn’t going to discuss it further. He went on then to explain what he’d done, what to expect, and to ask me if I had any questions. I said I didn’t, when what I really WANTED to say was, ‘Yes, what makes you such an uncaring, uncompassionate asshole?” I really didn’t want to have a big confrontation since she’s still got to return to this guy to both have stitches removed, and supposedly to have another such surgery done.  He left the room, and the assistant completed the post-op instructions with me. We were going to need to stop by the pharmacy for two more meds…one antibiotic, and one steroid dosepack.  We managed to get Ruth up out of the chair, into the waiting room, and sat her in a chair so I could pay the bill, get her coat on her, and gather up all our stuff to leave. My friend asked if I’d like for her to call in the prescription so it would be ready when we got to the pharmacy, and of course, I said please and thank you! She did that as I was leading Ruth out the door and to the car. Still very unsteady on her feet and with very slurred speech, she was probably not going to remember any of this later!

Part Two: The Pharmacy

The pharmacy is about 20 minutes away, but on our way home. With Ruth still very incoherent, I wanted to stop and get her meds and then get her home and into bed to sleep it off. I pulled into the drive-thru at the pharmacy. I waited a minute or two, and since no one had appeared at the window, I pushed the call button. Soon, a young lady appeared at the window. She was just kind of looking at me, but didn’t really say anything, unless the mic hadn’t worked, or I just didn’t hear her. But I just told her I was picking up a prescription, and gave her the name, and told her the doctor’s office had just called it in a while ago. She disappeared for a few minutes, then passed the window again, on her way to the other side of the area. Then she came back to the window and said, “What’s her date of birth?” I gave it to her, and off she went again. In a few minutes, she came back to the window and said, “We don’t have anything for her.”

“I heard her calling it in,” I replied. “She was doing it when we left the office.”

“It’s not here.” she said. “They must not have gotten it here yet.”

So I asked, “How does that happen? I heard her calling it in about 20 minutes ago. We were in the office, and I heard her.”

Shrugging, she just said, “I don’t know, but we don’t have anything for her.” Not once, I might add, was the word ‘sorry’ used by this person. Just about this time, someone called from behind this girl, and she, in turn says to me, “It’s here now. We just got it.” So, magically, the prescription request has now appeared.

“OK,” I asked, “how long will it take to get it filled?” Motioning toward my gorked-out wife, I said, “She’s been sedated, you see, so I can’t just drop her off at home and come back, or whatever.”

She says to me, “If you park and come in the store, it will take about fifteen to twenty minutes. If you drive away, it will be an hour or more.” I was flummoxed.

“What?? How does that make sense?? I just told you, I have my wife here who is sedated, and can’t really be left alone…either in my car for 20 minutes, or at home, while I drive back down here. Do you understand what I’m working with?” I was really getting testy by now.

The young lady just said to me, “I’m just telling you how we do it.”

“I’m just telling you that kind of treatment isn’t right!” I said. “That’s just ridiculous! No one cares about customers or people anymore!” She continued to just look at me.

So, with no recourse, other than to act like a total ass myself, I just told her I’d have to figure something out and come back later.  Off I drove, wondering what makes people behave that way; wondering whether I’d be able to get back later and leave Ruth alone; wondering if I should have asked for a manager; wondering if they would like being treated that way if they were the customers; wondering if I should just let it go. Wondering.

After I got Ruth to bed, ice pack on her face, and the car unloaded, I fixed myself a little lunch and waited for about an hour-and-a-half. I checked on her again, and since she seemed to be sleeping soundly, I quickly jumped into the car and headed back to the pharmacy to get the medications. I convinced myself on the way to let it go, not make a scene, unless something else happened. It was more important to get the stuff and get back home before Ruth tried to get up or something.  I was a good boy, even though this same young lady waited on me this time. The meds were there, ready to be picked up, and I just continued to breath deeply and curb my tongue. Besides, she was working fast, I presume to get me out of there quickly and without another incident.

I smiled all over myself when I got home and began to empty the bag from the pharmacy, and I found the receipt that had that ‘Tell us about your service” text at the bottom. HMMMM….online survey, I thought! Why, yes. Yes! I believe I will!