I’m sitting in the chair with my mouth wide open.  I’m staring at the ceiling as the drill starts up. I smell the horrible smell of bone being shaved off my tooth.  I taste the bitterness of the adhesive sliding on to my tongue. The dentist stands over me. Just behind him is the computer screen where I can see my “treatment plan,” aka all of the work that’s ahead of me in the months to come.  I breathe and think to myself “I can do this. I can do this.”

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