i don't know what particularly sparked the tears - perhaps it was the vulnerability of leaning back in the dentist's chair or maybe it was when donna (my hygienist who i actually love) asked me how i was feeling followed up with "are you feeling better?". i answered politely, but didn't really address her questions. i know her intentions were good; she has known us for years.
what i wanted to say to her, but couldn't because her tools were in my mouth scraping my teeth, was - feeling better? ummm....not really at all. no, i'm not better. i'm different. i am changing. i'm not really sure who i am becoming.
and i'm still torn up inside and bleeding and in pain.
while she worked in my mouth, tears streamed down my face. she comforted me by patting my shoulder every now and then...and in hygienist fashion told me to brush my gums a little better for next time.
i left the dentist's office with teary eyes, a new toothbrush and no cavities.
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