neuro-schmeuro-FIRED-o

yeah.
didn't go so well.
lets just say that i carried all the hopes in the world for this neurologist appointment, and was so excited to see somebody 'at the top,' and by the time i walked out of his office, i was seething.

i'm not sure what happens to you people out there, when you become doctors, and successful and rich and BOSS-MAN, but...heaven help you...because it turns you into the biggest JACK*SS ever. ever.

if you're a close friend of mine, you heard me say how "i'd probably be too nervous to cry, at this appointment." and that held true. i was intimidated before i even walked in. but in an awestruck sorta way. like...lion king holding up the baby cub to the sky and singing praise songs...kinda way. i felt much awe and respect for the office was going to. if DR SINGER has recommended this guy...then...wow...i may bow down upon greeting him.

AND THAT MY FRIENDS is why he is PROBABLY a JACK*SS.
dont' ever do that! don't ever let the doctor know you think he IS GOD...because this is what happens to him!

so i wait in the waiting room for...an...hour.
fortunately, NEWSWEEK had a great article on spitzer, and i found it interesting, and nearly zonked out in my chair. nevermind the fact that chad was home with isaac, trying to work, so every minute that ticked by, made me feel claustrophic that this appt wasn't underway yet. i kept glancing at my phone and whispering, "i'm sorry" to it...for chad's sake.

did i mention this office was smack in the middle of a RETIREMENT FACILITY? i was the only one in that room under 60 years old. walkers. wheelchairs. and me. i smiled to myself as a friend reminded me, "guess how neat it will be for dr London to see a young person..." yes. i'm OBVIOUSLY very refreshing for him.

lets just get to the point.
dr london never acknowledged that i had been waiting for an hour, OR that my previous TEN YEARS has culminated to me sitting in his office. he walked in. er. strutted. sat down. looked at his chart. sized me up. "how old are you?"

29.

"what hand do you write with?"

uhm. right. wow. why are you asking me this.

"because it determines where your speech skills are embedded."

i refrained from asking him WHAT THE HELL does that have to do with jaw pain, but i let it go. i could see the writing on the wall at this point.

"so...(insert shrug)...you have...(raises eyebrows)....teeth pain?"

i guess you can call it that...

"and ...uhm...who referred you...(glances at chart)...dr singer?...and who is he...like...a dentist?"

my blood pressure started to escalate at this point...

"no. dr london. he's a TMJ/facial pain specialist."

"so why are you here?"

and thus proceeded the most painful interaction of my life.
he continued by treating me like i was some whiny, teenager who must not know what REAL pain is, therefore, shut up and let me handle poor elderly souls who need strong drugs....

"alliso...i mean....mrs morgan....you are not very articulate in your description of your pain..."

me.
he's accusing ME of not being COMMUNICATIVE....?!
wow.

i wanted to hit him....hard.
i took a deep breath and tried to remain level-headed:

"i have been to so many DENTISTS i've lost count. i've then been referred to THREE different endodontists. then i was referred to an oral surgeon. then i was referred to a TMJ specialist, who has been TREATING ME for the last 16 months. THEN he referred me to you."

he stopped.
asked me to repeat it as he furiously scribbled in his gay little file.

he pricked my face with safety pins.
he watched me walk.
he checked my jaw.
he did a bunch of random eye tests.

and rolled his eyes as he muttered, "come with me."

we enter his office and he tells me to take a seat.
i sit down.
and staring back at me are the FACES OF DR LONDON AND THE OBAMAS....

i started looking for the hidden camera at that point.
THIS MUST be a practical joke.
and since i REALLY felt there was nothing to lose. heck, there was nothing to salvage AT ALL, i had to bite my tongue from asking how he felt about his job security with socialized medicine coming down the pipeline, thanks to his good friend barack.

he proceeds to ignore me for a good 5 minutes while he shuffled around and dug his nose in a few books....

he finally sits back in his chair and stares at me:

"alliso...i mean...mrs morgan....you may have trigenimal neuralgia, but it certainly wouldn't be a classic case. maybe you have atypical neuralgia. who knows. i need to see the 5th cranial nerve via contrast MRI, asap. maybe you have a growth on it, maybe it's compressed...damaged...whatnot. so get the MRI and take ____ meds and come back in two weeks."

"oh...and in the meantime...try to figure out a way to be more articulate with your pain experiences..."

"and...if all else fails...i'll refer you to a specialist at the university of maryland....he's like....the guru of guru's over there...."

ten bucks he's TALKING ABOUT DR SINGER.
the man he just INSULTED by calling him a dentist.

NO HE'S NOT A DENTIST, you EVIL JERK.
DOCTOR SINGER HAS BEEN INVITED TO BE ON OPRAH TWICE!!!!
he's a WORLD RENOWN SURGEON who RECONSTRUCTS FACES for WAR VICTIMS in the MILITARY! HE SHOWED ME AN EAR HE WAS ABOUT TO SEW BACK ONTO A PATIENT! HE HAS CLIENTS THAT FLY IN FROM SWITZERLAND, AFGHANISTAN, ALL OVER EUROPE, BECAUSE HE IS THE BEST DAMN FACIAL RECONSTRUCTIVE SURGEON OUT THERE.....HE WENT TO SCHOOL FOR 16 YEARS AND HE TEACHES AT FREAKING UNIVERSITIES (INCLUDING THE UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND!)
...AND HE GIVES TESTIMONY IN BIG COURT CASES AS THE EXPERT OF ALL THINGS (i love him so much)
AND HE MAKES TIME FOR TMJ DISASTER CASES LIKE MYSELF....
HOW DARE YOU CALL HIM A DENTIST AND ROLL YOUR JACK*SS EYES AT ME.....

i plan on reporting back to dr singer all of these things.
and that the big dawg NEURO-SCHMEURO dude is probably on the brink of referring me...BACK to dr singer...not KNOWING that's who i've ALREADY been seeing forever.

and i had no idea what doctor london had written out for me to take, medicine-wise. but it was some CRAZY FREAK PILL that knocked me out till NEXT WEEK. i'm sitting here typing every other word incorrectly bc this med makes my body NOT WORK WELL. fingers. broken. lazy. disconnected. huh?

i looked it up on the interweb and it's a muscle RELAXANT...and...yeah...NO. "just take it between 6-7pm, it'll make you tir...." zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

and guess what.
no, thanks.

dr singer, love is not the right word for the emotions i have for you...but this was a HORRIBLE referral and i need you to try again. thanks. see you soon, my beloved bff, i know we have a date on may 12th at 7pm, in that HAWT office of yours...but let's just have a little chat first before you pull out those sexy drills. great. thanks.

back to the drawing board.