There’s an ist in dentist which I guess is why he became my therapist yesterday. Throughout this whole experience people have remarked on how strong I am. Truth is, I’m one teeth cleaning away from a blubbering mess. Case in point, I went to the dentist yesterday and yes, while I actually love my dentist and feel very fortunate to have him as my dentist, he is not in any certain terms my therapist. I actually don’t have one of those yet. So my dentist was fortunate enough to step into this role yesterday since after all, he has the ist.
I sat down in the chair and he simply asked, “How have you been?” That was it, that was all it took for the flood gates to open and for me to gush forth all of the intricate, sad details of late. And once the dam broke, I couldn’t for the life of me put the boulders back up to block it. I spilled forth about how I was diagnosed with a heart condition and had a defibrillator placed. I talked about how my oldest daughter fell off her horse and I thought she broke her neck. And then I went on about how we were going through a lot with my younger daughter and he nodded his dentist with an ist head in solidarity, he had been through a lot with his son, he understood and then blessedly he shot my mouth full of novocaine so I would shut the hell up. And as the novocaine took effect, I closed my eyes with tears brimming at the edge and didn’t even notice the drill. As the drill worked I remember hearing him say that I’ve always been such a good patient and I couldn’t help but say that I’ve always had a high tolerance for pain. And in that moment I realized what a relief it was to be weak for a few minutes and to not hold it all together. It’s exhausting keeping the water in and the walls strong. It felt peaceful to just for a few minutes spill everything out and let it land and have someone with an ist nod their head and understand.
Maybe it was the novocaine.