You know the long and
sorry saga about my tooth. Well I had it removed this week. So I am feeling
sorry for myself. With any luck this will fix the months of discomfort I have
endured. It seems that it is not a good idea to do root canal work on a cracked
tooth so out it came. Call me toothless.
I promise you will not
hear too much more about my teeth. I think I have milked this topic to death. I
just have to tell you that my collection of dental practitioners now numbers
four, the dentist, the orthodontist, the hygienist, and the dental surgeon. I
laugh in the face of the rest of you with your measly one dental medical
practitioner. HA, ow , ow, ow!
On the day before I
was due to visit the orthodontist to further discuss my teeth Philip had a
doctor’s appointment because he was pathetically sick. I mean man flu to the
moon and back, sick. Honestly, I thought I had brought up my sons to be a bit
more stoic.
Seeing as Philip was making
a noise about being sick I took pity on him I suggested that maybe if he felt
so dreadful he should go to the doctor. He acquiesced rather quickly which was
a hint to me that he was actually quite sick. Off he went to the doc and was sent to a hospital for some
tests and the next thing I knew he was being admitted to said hospital and
being hooked up to a drip. Now before you get all freaked out, putting someone
on a drip does happen at the drop of a hat in Dubai. I am sure it is used by
hospitals to get you to spend 24 hours in their grossly overpriced half empty
medical institutions. I would not mind so much if I felt there was an ounce of good
old fashioned nursing care to go with cost. But there is not. The nurses are
lovely and cheerful and could not give a toss. For someone under observation
Philip was shockingly unobserved. There is no doubt that the drip was much
needed and Philip said he really felt the difference. After several days of
being weak as the proverbial kitten where the prospect of standing without a
chair to lean on was unthinkable I think that every cell in his raging body was
thankful for the boost of whatever it was that they pumped through him. But the
care is dreadful. He was left on occasions for hours without the drip hooked up.
Not once was he offered a meal or had explained to him how a meal was obtained.
Even when the nutritionist came to visit and gave him a special diet for his
grossly compromised immune system did that come with an accompanying meal, just
a meal plan. We had to track down the caterers to get food and when it came…… well
let’s not even go there.
So in the middle of Philip
being a dead duck shivering and sweating and generally being revoltingly ill I
had the orthodontist say that “best the tooth comes out tomorrow”. “Sure, why
not? The week can’t really get much worse.”
I said tempting fate. Well of course it could. Bryan had to travel to
Qatar on business on the day of my tooth extraction. At the crack of dawn, after
Bryan had already left for the airport he remembered that he would need his
credit card for a car hire. So he came home to pick his up. I had Bryan’s credit card but, as it happens,
not on my person, long story, well not long, but boring. I had it at my office.
So let’s just say that he was not exactly thrilled at the turn of events, but
he could not really have a hissy fit because I was feeling so dreadful for
Philip, my sick baby, and sorry for myself over my impending appointment and
the fact that Bryan was deserting ship in the middle of it all. So Bryan left muttering “Never mind I will
make a plan.” Zimbo to the end.
Off I went to the dentist;
while I was checking in I got a call to say that Philip would most likely be
released in the late afternoon and they wanted someone to come and collect him
because he was not really strong and should not take a taxi alone. Which is why
I landed up with a swollen chipmunk face at the hospital asking that Philip be
released a couple of hours early so that
1. we could beat the
traffic at rush hour and
2. the anesthetic
on my mouth would not have worn off before I got home.
“Of course Philip can be
released early” said the hospital staff. "Yay" thought I, except that it took the
hospital up to the half an hour before his original release time to prepare his
release. One and a half f-ing hours!!!!!!!
By which time I was a thundering bad tempered buffalo in pain and
resorted to ungracious behavior towards the hospital staff in an desperate
effort to get the paperwork moving. I hope I never ever need to go to hospital
in this city.
Philip and I lay on our
respective beds feeling mightily sorry for ourselves for several hours after we
got home. Then I took some of the magic painkillers that I have. I tried, I
really did, but you can keep your bloody Paracetamol,
when I am in pain I want it taken away not the edge taken off.
Philip on
the other hand had to endure several more days of an internal war against
some un-identified virus. He shivered and sweated and heated up to a steaming
geyser to plummet down with shivers and shakes etc, et very worrying, cetera. He
has for the first time in his life felt truly weak and not in control of his
body and I don’t think he liked it very much. I certainly did not. But today
things are looking up. Philip has only had a couple of bouts of the quivers and
the weekend is almost here and it is a long weekend YAY.
PS that was
a couple weeks ago now and life is pretty much back to our version of normal but only after Bryan came down with a cold and
them me and then Philip. Honestly.
Dubai.
Eh.
I have a
theory. We are the center of the world. So many people came through from East
to West and North to South and every compass direction in between so we get
every bug that is about.
Oh and add
to that:
· a nefarious private
medical system ( no Third World do good-er medical professionals here) and
· a neurotic
population of internet self-diagnoses who will happily part with their hard
earned cash and pay any snake oil salesman with a DR attached to their name for
clearly scientifically bogus products or buy anything that is labeled as natural (
Hemlock anyone?)
You are forced
to take your health into your own hands and wade through miss information, over
information, and cover my arse information to try and figure out what it is
that is really needed and what is just a complete waste of time. It is scary. There
was a time that you would trust the hospital to do that. Not now. Anyway I am
now sounding beyond boring but…. You know what I mean right?
Having written my diatribe and moaned and complained I simply cannot just delete and trash my post. You all have to share in the misery with me.
Having written my diatribe and moaned and complained I simply cannot just delete and trash my post. You all have to share in the misery with me.
Wishing you all a healthy week.
