DO PEOPLE USUALLY CRY AT THIS PROCEDURE?

I suffer from allergies and, of course, now, with all the glorious blooming, I am especially susceptible with the accompanying runny nose and watery eyes.   

Yesterday, I was scheduled to have a lengthy procedure at the dentist's office but I didn't want to take any medication because it makes me drowsy and I didn't want to fall asleep in the dental chair.  

If people do not know my condition, they might think that I am actually crying.  In the dental chair, as I was swiping away the tears which were streaming down my cheeks, the dental assistant placed a hand on my shoulder, and she asked, very solicitously, "Are you O.K., Mrs. Raypole?"  I laughed and asked, "Do people usually cry at this procedure?"  I then explained about the allergies and she commiserated, saying she also was suffering but that she takes Claritin.

When the dentist came in, he quipped, "I just thought you were allergic to me!"

I told them about another "weeping" incident. See the Sue's News article first published in 2010:

                                        ANOTHER MORAL DILEMMA





Recently, I was in charge of organizing an event.  I arrived early to meet with the coordinator.  Because of my allergies, I did not want to take any medication as it makes me drowsy and not safe to drive.  I am especially vulnerable to runny nose and excessive watering of the eyes.  AS the event was in an outdoor park, I expected I would be a victim of the environment.

When the coordinator and I had finished the set-up,  we sat down and began to chat. After some "getting to know you" chit-chat, she asked if I had children and I said that I didn't; [something I never do is to initiate a conversation with people by asking about children because I know from personal experience that some people do not want the subject mentioned after the loss of a child] of course, since she had broached the subject, I felt comfortable asking if she had children and she replied that she did, but that she had lost a son and then she suddenly reached out and embraced me.   She whispered how kind I was.  Unfortunately, I had left my purse --with the needed Kleenex--in my car, but there I was, with tears flowing down my face.

Oh, no! My eyes were watering and she thought that I was crying because of her tragedy.

What to do--what to say--what a dilemma. Of course, the answer was not to do or say anything; just continue with the embrace.   Several days after the event, I received a thank you card with a note from her;  she wrote that I was the kindest, most compassionate person she'd ever met.

I believe that I am kind and I believe that I am compassionate, but I also know that I am not the "KINDEST" nor the "MOST COMPASSIONATE".   Feeling rather self-satisfied,  I showed the note to my brother, and he said, "If she only knew that you are really about as compassionate as an old brown shoe!" He is always so "colorful" with his zingers.  I winced.

He asked, "So, you didn't like my metaphor?"

"It was NOT a metaphor.", I said haughtily.

"Oh, I suppose it was a simile?", he asked.

I answered, "No, it is personification: giving human characteristics to inanimate objects."

He said, "It's just a good thing she didn't see the SMARTY-PANTS side of you or she wouldn't think you were kind or compassionate!"