A Happy Ending (?)

I feel lighter – but not for the squeamish

I persevere. I don’t give up unless there’s a good reason. People being awkward and obstructive won’t stop me. Weak excuses won’t be accepted. It’s one reason why I’d make a good MP.

Another is my background and principles. I’m not some rich pillock who has no idea what issues normal people face. I frequently struggle financially. I’ve used food banks. I come from a background of poverty, council houses, free school meals. I remember one Christmas as a child I got a Scalextric set. We were so short of money that my dad had to sell it a few months later. I don’t own a car, I use public transport (and a bicycle). I don’t use private healthcare, I use the NHS. My working class background is a key part of who I am and what I stand for.

And so I didn’t give up when my wisdom tooth broke, my dentist refused to count it as an emergency and just told me to take painkillers for a few months, and I couldn’t get help. Detailed here, and then here when it got worse.

It felt like most people and organisations didn’t care. One elected representative did go out of their way to help, though even she got stonewalled and came to a dead end. Other representatives ignored my case completely, or suggested I do things I had already told them didn’t work. The local health board “Patient Services” were worse than useless, since they just wasted my time and made me angry. Some examples of what they said and my replies:

“As advised in previous correspondence, the correct route to progress your concerns regarding your personal dental care is via the practice direct.”

And as I stated many times, that had been done already, and the practice refused to treat it, which is where the problem lay.

“If you wish to escalate your concerns about the care (or lack of care) provided, you can access the practice’s Complaints Handling Procedure.”

And as I stated many times, that had already been done and was a dead end.

“As you are as an election candidate, we are unable to respond to your points until after the upcoming General Election.”

I was contacting them as a normal member of the public with a dental emergency. I was trying to get the NHS Patient Services to provide NHS dental care and sort out this mess.

“I appreciate that you may be disappointed with the above, but there is nothing further that the Board can add at this stage.”

That was untrue. They could have made an appointment with their NHS emergency dental hospital. They could have spoken to the practice that they were funding NHS services through. Apathy on their part was the least useful option.

The irony was that I’m standing as a Green, and we want to give the NHS £70 billion in funding.

The General Dental Council also refused to do anything.

In the end I used an Ombudsman service. Their timescale was likely to be two months to make a decision (i.e. a further two months with an eroding wisdom tooth!) But I persisted and asked if there was any way to speed it up, and the person dealing with my case went out of their way: instead of waiting two weeks for a response from their independent dental adviser, she rang them up and got an immediate response: they considered a broken tooth of this nature to fall into the urgent care category, and told my dental practice to see me within twenty-four hours.

Wow! If only the practice had taken that approach back in mid May.

As a result of that wonderful person making a phone call in order to be helpful, my dental practice rang me yesterday with an appointment for that afternoon.

As a nervous patient with a phobia of needles and dental things I took some Diazepam, a requirement for even check-ups. Then walked into town, listening to music to calm me.

The dentist examined the tooth and explained that too many pieces had broken away. It may have been salvageable a month ago, but the delay had let it get into such a bad state it needed to come out. I could be put on the hospital waiting list (unknown duration), or he could take it out there and then. I would be awake, he’d just inject some anaesthetic into the root.

My heart was racing. I didn’t want to delay, but was also terrified. But I remembered what my sister has gone through with her surgery, and what my cat has to deal with every day because of her diabetes, and I said okay.

(I downed a bit more Diazepam first.)

I gripped on to the arm rests and tried to stay calm as the injections took place. I felt the needle tip deep in my gums, scraping against the root of the wisdom tooth.

I told myself that if I can deal with this, then I can cope with calling out Conservative and Labour bullshit in the House of Commons.

Next came the bigger dental tools. From the crunching and stabbing, I think they use a kind of chisel to go down inside the gum and loosen everything.

My biggest fear was me not being able to continue, stopping halfway and having a wisdom tooth partly ripped out.

Next some kind of deep-cut pliers were inserted to get a grip and twist and wiggle the tooth. I could hear the snap crackle and pop, but not the pleasant one of rice crispies, this was bone and calcium.

“Nearly there,” he said. “Just a few more twists.”

My palms were sweating, but I mumbled “Okay” without gagging, and prepped myself.

A hard twist, a wet “shluck”, and it was out.

And I started laughing.

“Is that it?” I asked. “Maybe it would make sense to just take all the other wisdom teeth out at the same and be done with it?”

He declined.

They don’t normally let you keep the tooth, except for religious reasons. I explained that I’d been blogging about the tooth and would like to give it a final send off. Also that I am a Pagan, and want to bury it in my garden. So it was placed in a sealed plastic pouch and presented to me so I could inspect what I’d been living with for weeks.

And so I paid £44.52 and headed to my nearest pub (independent, with no TV – instead they play good music, such as Joy Division). I got some locally brewed beer, chatted with the people in the bar and fussed their dogs. Came home.

I haven’t bothered with painkillers, as I can hardly tell anything has happened apart from the occasional bit of blood in my mouth, and the weird jelly-ish hole where my wisdom tooth used to be (and the “ouch” if I forget and try to brush that bit as I’m used to doing for the last fifty years …)

My final act was to wrap the tooth in tissue and put it under my pillow last night. Just in case. I am pretty skint, you know. But when I got up today the tooth was still there. Oh well, it was worth a try.

Anyway, for anyone curious about what I’ve had to put up with while campaigning for lovely Dwyfor Meirionnydd, scroll down. I will insert lots of blank lines first so no one sees it by accident. If you do scroll down, you have been warned!

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It would have been better if it has been repaired immediately so it didn’t fall apart and rot, but hey ho. Now I can focus back on campaigning, and hoping Greens get enough candidates into government to challenge whichever Palestinian-hating, favours-to-rich-donors conservative group get in (probably the red ones this time).

How you can help.

Promoted by Harriet King on behalf of the Green Party both at The Gate, Keppoch Street, Cardiff CF24 3JW.