Now I’m by no means a fan of Micheal Moore and his tactics of humiliation to get a point across, but the events that unfolded last night have convinced me that something has to be done.
Last night, my sister and I prepared a pleasant dinner for my family- sans my mother, who was out of town. We prepared the traditional Korean style course— rice, kimchi, doenjang soup, fish, freshly chopped tomatoes mixed with cilantro and a tad of vinegar. We were excited that we had a chance to prepare dinner and we made more than we probably should have.
When my father came back from work, we dined peacefully in the well-lit dining room. Everyone in the room seemed relaxed… maybe a bit tired from the day’s work. We spoke about Obama’s visit to Afghanistan … well I did, my family isn’t really interested in politics.
“Obama’s time with Petraeus hasn’t changed his mind on…” I paused and ate the rest of what remained on my plate.
That’s when an acute pain stabbed into my tongue. I screamed in agony as I quickly ran from the table. My dad asked what was wrong and when I tried to answer my tongue exploded with pain. My mind was reeling from from this excruciating feeling and I raced to the bathroom to see what had happened. Though my mouth was full of Korean food, I was able to see that the bottom of my tongue (The frenulum) had caught to a bracket (braces) on the side of my mouth.
Someone once told me that the penis was the most sensitive area in the body and I took their word for it… but I can tell you that the tongue is pretty damn sensitive. Speaking of penises, apparently the frenulum is a part on the penis. It was my unfortunate privilege to Google frenulum and find that Google posts pictures of the results on the very top. Don’t Google it… just take my word for it.
The psychological damage from those pictures will be added onto the pending lawsuit.
What pending lawsuit you say? Well let me continue with the story where I left off.
After several failed attempts to disengage my tongue with a toothpick, I gave up and told my dad what happened.
My father rushed me to the emergency at Miami Children’s Hospital (Though I am 18, I am considered a child still by some standards so pedophiles stay away) and the whole way I was in agonizing gut-wrenching pain. You see, the tongue was stuck in such a way that I could not utter a word nor could I swallow.
The clerk in the emergency room casually asks my name and date of birth. She looks a bit bored and seems slightly amused by my panic. I ask her to hurry and let me see a doctor. She takes my info and after a few minutes I am called in. However, I’m not called in to be treated nonono I’m called in to fill out paper work. I AM DYING HERE AND THEY’RE ASKING ME TO SIGN SUPERFLUOUS PAPERS. I am calmed by security and told to wait in the reception area. Yeah… The irony of a reception area in an EMERGENCY ROOM.
After 2 hours of waiting, I am in a state of hopelessness. The searing pain had subdued and now it was just a constant throbbing stab. I sat there… drooling kimchi, rice and saliva out of my mouth in a busy reception room full of crying infants, unable to speak, unable to complain. Writing in capital letters to the hospital staff just isn’t the same as screaming at them. The drooling had caused me to be dehydrated… and I could not swallow water. The lights in the hospital room where getting brighter, and my lips drier. They provided me a towel to drool on (thanks!) but insisted I waited to see the doctor. Thoughts started running through my head: “What if I couldn’t speak properly after this?” Oh boyyyy… I would sue them for everything they had. My future depends on my speaking ability. “What if I couldn’t taste?” Oh I would lose my will to live.
Eventually it became clear the emergency room was the worst place to go for an emergency and my dad pulled a few strings to get the home number of my orthodontist (let the North Korean spy jokes begin). After another hour of waiting outside the orthodontists office and several mosquito bites to worsen my mood, he arrived and freed my tongue from its cage.
Today, my tongue feels very sore and my anger has burgeoned. How could the American health care system make it so that I had to wait 3 hours for a simple procedure of taking my tongue off my braces? Fortunately, my tongue is fine but If my speech or taste were impaired, I would sue in a heart beat.
Maybe Micheal Moore is right. Maybe we should all just move to Canada.