This routine dentist appointment should be easy

In less than 24 hours, I’m heading to my twice-a-year dental appointment.

Dan is taking me to the dentist. No big deal, right? Especially because—and not to brag—I brush and floss like it’s my job.

But I am nervous.

Not because of cavities or X-rays or even that too-pointy scraper.

I’m nervous because I haven’t had to make that tricky transfer into the dental exam chair since Dan’s hernia surgery earlier this year (we’ve been navigating it for months now).

What once was routine now feels like a really big deal.

Dan is almost fully recovered. We’re getting back into our regular, day-to-day life. But something about this transfer is getting in my head.

This transfer requires a lot from both of us.

Timing. Strength. Trust. My legs cooperating. His body holding up. Both of us remembering how we used to do this without thinking.

Now we are thinking. About everything.

In my mind, the space suddenly feels smaller than it used to. My power wheelchair seems bigger, like it takes up more room than before.

My hygienist, Jodie, and my dentist, Dr. Bever, both run such efficient schedules. It feels like there’s no room (figuratively or literally) for a botched transfer. Yet hesitation is exactly what I feel.

Because Dan and I are out of practice.

Out of shape, too, if I’m being honest. Deconditioned in ways that don’t show up on the surface but make themselves known in moments like this.

Like my sore, cranky right knee. It is sore from sitting in a wheelchair for the past 24 years, but the soreness was exacerbated by my inactivity and lack of standing while Dan recovered. My knee seems to ache at the worst possible times, adding one more layer of uncertainty to something that already feels like a careful balancing act.

Ugh.

I know we can do this. We’ve done harder things. So many harder things.

But that doesn’t stop the nerves from creeping in anyway.

Because sometimes it’s not the big, dramatic challenges that shake you.

It’s the small, everyday moments that suddenly aren’t so small anymore.

And tomorrow, we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.

Update:

We did it! Smooth transfer. Deep breath.