Brutes. Medical brutes, to be specific.
Tuesday afternoon, I had the second in a series of three oral surgeries, to get my mouth back together after my “accident”. My dentist at Shreveport-Bossier Family Dentistry. Dr. Beech, is a dental artiste, and a gentle soul, who understands my anxiety both about sitting in a dental chair, and having things going on behind my head, that I can’t see. Due to the extensive amount of work needing to be done, and my anxiety level, we decided IV sedation was the way to go. The dentist does not hire the anesthesiologist directly here–they come from a service, and therefore aren’t really part of the dental establishment at all.
I had the first surgery about six weeks ago, and it went great, other than a screw-up with my pain medication (I didn’t realize Narco had codeine in it, and I have had several adverse reactions to codeine. This is something the dental office should have caught, but I should have been better educated/asked more questions/etc. I spent the night after the first surgery dry-heaving for six hours.) The nurse anesthesiologist was terrific–I didn’t even feel the needle when he stuck me the second time–(I always take a second stick, because no one ever listens to me the first time when I tell them where to stick me.)
Fast forward to Tuesday. I had spoken to this nurse anesthesiologist on the phone, and he appeared quite personable. I went in, and he began digging around on my right arm, for a place to stick. I say, “I guarantee I can show you a spot where you will have no trouble getting the IV in.” His reply, “Oh, I’ll get it in. I’m using a baby needle.” First stick, in my right wrist, not on the upper side, but the lower side. OUCH!!!!!! He says, “I don’t understand why your so red, it’s just a baby needle,” as he jabs it in further, digging for a vein that has run and hid by now. Needless to say, he didn’t get anything.
He flips my hand over, and I say, “Please don’t put the IV in my right hand. I have nerve damage in that hand.” He replies, “Gotta put it there. If I put it in your left arm, the assistant will bend over it, and your IV will come out.” I say, “That wasn’t a problem for the anesthesiologist or the assistant last time I had sedation here.” Needless to say, the man had cloth ears. He proceeded to jab the darn needle into my hand, and now I have not one, but two, three-inch dark purple and green, painful bruises in the vicinity of my right hand. Thank goodness for ice packs!
Brutes, I say.