The dentist’s office is not my happy place. Not even in the same zip code. Or hemisphere. When the hygienist checks my blood pressure and tells me it’s a little high, I try and act surprised. She doesn’t know that my anxiety is about ready to make my head explode the minute they wrap that little napkin around my neck. This week when I went in for my regular exam, I had a big ‘ol cold sore on my upper lip. You can probably guess how comfortable that was going to be when they’re stretching my mouth open, right? This very sweet Continue Reading