Surgeons vs dentists

Today I returned to see Dr K, the hand surgeon. I trusted this man in the past to open up my palms and fix my 25-year-long bout with carpal tunnel. He did it, and did it well. I only lost one muscle in the process. Considering how advanced the problem was, he was brilliant. He even let me look at my hand while it was open and in the process of being repaired. That was way cool!

No. You can't yell at me for waiting so long to have the surgery. I begged for it for 25 years. Anyone who has advanced carpal tunnel syndrome understands that it is not something pleasant to live with. I am one of those odd ducks who tests negative when the truth is otherwise. Dr K understood that I wasn't making up my discomfort and fixed it.

So. I have some trust established with Dr K. I took my little tape-wrapped finger back to him today. If you forgot, he had gone high tech in his attempt to help my left ring finger recover from torn tendons. He taped two fingers together after I said I had already tried two separate splints that just didn't work for me. My hands are too small, is my guess.

Today, he told me I am progessing normally. As far as I am concerned, my finger is still swollen, red, and it hurts like hell. He said I see it every day (really?) and so I didn't notice that some swelling is down. OK, I can buy that. He again showed me his finger that he tore the tendons on years ago. It's slightly misshapen, but not much. He said mine will be the same. He said it takes time.

I am slowly learning that doctors will not answer direct questions unless they feel like it. I have not been able to get any time answers regarding healing for this, so I asked, "How long did your finger take to heal?" "Six months."

Had he told me that last time, I probably would have canceled today's appointment. Oh well, what to do? He told me I don't have to wear the tape any longer to protect my finger, and I am to do some daily massages on the damaged area. Push until it starts to hurt. No problem, I can do that until the cows come home. Of course, I don't have cows. I have beagles, and they aren't allowed out on their own. Nevertheless, it clear to me now that this will be at least 3 more months in the healing process and I get to rub it daily like a little genie lamp. With lotion, he said. Put lotion on first. Maybe I can make a wish at the same time?

I off-handedly mentioned my gum graft surgery to him. He is, after all, a plastic surgeon who specializes in hands. He does do other body parts. I have no scars at all on my palms. On one, he followed a natural crease, and on the other, he made his own, but somehow it doesn't even begin to resemble a scar. I thought if my jawbone does progress with <insert something ugly here> I might need him and his magic touch. This is what he told me, and I am not making any of this up:

Don't go to dentists. They are mean and evil people. They damage your teeth, damage your gums, and scrape the natural enamel off your teeth. Just brush your teeth often. I have only seen a dentist twice in 61 years. Look at my teeth, they are just fine. Stay away from the dentists if you can help it. They are bad.

Yes, that is from a board-certified physician. Where was he when my mom dragged me out from under the bed every few months to go see a dentist who hit me when he hurt me and I cried?

You are laughing about my doctor, aren't you? If you don't ask questions, you don't get entertained.  

He also told me that I don't need to return unless I do something else to my finger. He said a few times that he would miss me. Before I left, we compared arthritic bumps on our little fingers. He said any day over age 55 is a gift.

I was laughing too, until I got in my car, turned the corner, and caught my un-taped finger in the steering wheel and brought tears to my eyes.

Where is my lotion?