There seems to be enough of general interest in this one to warrant a post.
On Monday evening I broke half a tooth off but surprisingly, am not in pain as yet. Bad move in the UK not to have pain.
Next morning I phoned and was told my regular private dentist, who said he would always be available in an emergency, was not, so they scrambled to find another.
She refused to extract [which they’re agreed over the phone it needed] unless a written letter from the heart specialist authorized them.
They should, technically, go through my GP and they tried but the GP has now changed the rules and patients can only phone 2 hours a day – at least they’ll answer during those two hours, you can phone all you like. The substitute dentist says the GP decided it wasn’t their problem, it was the heart specialist’s problem.
The dentist substitute sent an email to the heart specialist requesting advice but nothing has been received as of some minutes ago.
I phoned the heart specialist’s secretary myself and this is her day off.
The substitute dentist also decided to take a day off today, although she was rostered on, but the secretary, who knows me well, is doing what she can – she’s a sweetie but can do nothing until someone in charge, medically, will actually authorize something.
Though I’m not in actual pain, it is affecting the bod and I had nosebleeds most of yesterday, plus there’s the infection issue [salt water].
I went to the supermarket this morning to get soft foods and had a bit of a turn.
What concerned me was that, although I’m expecting chest pains and am at-the-ready with GTN spray and phone, this in the supermarket was not that – it was neck, left arm and ankle, suggesting to me a stroke in the offing.
However, they won’t let you in at A&E without the stroke to actually go with it. Pre-stroke doesn’t qualify.
My mate has a standing offer to do the job with pliers.
I’ve come back to a reasonable state after food, enough to type this post [6 p.m.’s is already scheduled] and have contacted the dentist again as I can’t reach either the heart place or the GP – the GP automated voice wanted to know my life history when I did get through and I just hung up.
The dentist’s secretary, under orders from the mega-firm which took over the practice about a year ago, making it now a cosmetic place for wimmin, can do nothing until they get that letter from the heart specialist.
Excellent. This is what Africans are rioting to get over here to enjoy.
I’m actually fine right now, food and coffee have stabilised it all, plus Mark Matis’s 528 cubic inch [see previous post] has restored the roarpower and I’m raring to get out on the drag track.