I didn’t realize the story braces told me until I sat down to listen
Why, then, does my throat feel choked and my eyelids fill when the receptionist asks if we can come back on the 19th for the final visit?
I look up the date in my appointment calendar. “That won’t work,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t tell her that an appointment with my oncologist is penciled in for that day.
“How about the next day?” she asks.
I shake my head again. I’m booked for the endocrinologist. And so go the appointments on my roster. We somehow manage to squeeze in the final appointment between all the other visits.
Although those oncology appointments are baruch Hashem healthy follow-up visits (I hope), I still have a level of anxiety when going there. But an orthodontist appointment should be pure joy. I should be coming in relaxed, leaving relaxed. There are no fears of being sent for further testing; the kids are excited about the color of the new rubber bands or the new apparatus; they’re treated with an ice cream. So why am I fighting back tears?
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