We are still dealing with the mysterious mouth pain, and Bob is suffering terribly. Somedays, it's all I hear: "my mouth, my mouth" and "hurts, hurts". I am at my wit's end and wish these doctors would get to the bottom of it and find him some relief.
Last week, we went back to the Pain Management doctor. He had done two nerve block injections in Bob's jaw, (to the tune of $30.00 a pop) and neither worked. His plan was to do three more injections, but Bob and I "discussed" this, and since the injections weren't working, I figured it was a waste of time and money to do any more. When I was registering Bob at the counter, the receptionist gave me a "consent form" for another injection and I told her that we had decided against another injection but wanted to pick up his pain medication scripts and talk to the doctor about any alternatives. So, the receptionist yells to someone in the back room "No injection for Robert!"
Of course, Bob heard this. Immediately, he began yelling "Injection! Injection!" Poor Bob, in his wheelchair, pulling at the corners of his mouth with his fingers, showing everyone in the waiting room his gums. Tears begin rolling down his checks and he's crying "My mouth! My mouth! HURTS!" and this is in a full waiting room and, of course, everyone is staring at me like I am the evil witch who won't let this poor man have his mouth injection.
God. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I wanted to run out the door. Instead, I pulled a chair up to Bob's wheelchair and tried to calm him down. I reminded him that we had talked about this and he had said the last two injections didn't work and why pay for more injections, if they don't work. At this, he started yelling "MONEY! MONEY!" and everyone is looking horrified at me, so now, not only am I the evil witch but I'm also a cheapskate. I was never so happy to hear his name called and get behind the closed door. Finally, the doctor came in and I asked him if he thought a third injection would help if the first two didn't work. The doc pretty much agreed that it would be a waste of time and money. But, he wouldn't give Bob any more pain medication and told me to soak his feet in Epsom salts. Christ.
So, the next doctor we went to see was Dr. Doom, whose an ENT (ear, nose, throat doctor). Dr. Doom is so known to us as he is the doctor to see when you want to hear the worse case scenario. I mean, say you go to Dr. Doom because you have an earache, he will tell you that "it might be an infection but--it might also be a terrible incurable cancer and I'll have to cut your ear off, and even after that you'll still die a slow and painful death. BAH HA HA HA!! So, let's run some tests and find out, shall we?" Anyway, we went to see Dr. Doom, who surely will get to the bottom of this, because no one else seems to know what to do. Dr. Doom examined Bob and now has ordered both PET and CAT scans of his mouth and neck, because, you know, it might be cancer, or it could be radiation necrosis, or it could be something else. Bob goes in for tests next week. Now, all we can do is get the tests done, wait and worry.
Other than that, I'm still waiting for the financial assistance paperwork from Bayfront to see if I can enroll Bob into Outpatient Rehab there.