Extra-soft Toothbrushes

The first time I shopped for extra-soft toothbrushes was, you guessed it, when David was first diagnosed with leukemia. At Walter Reed Medical Center he had mouth sores, so I walked into downtown Bethesda and bought out the Rockville Pike CVS’s supply of extra-soft toothbrushes, all four of them. I’d never even heard of them. They cost twice as much as the national brand toothbrushes. I always buy the store-brand and in fact Jim’s favorites are the ten for a dollar ones I found at the dollar store. But that spring this was something I could do to take care of David.

Being David’s housekeeper for his last fifteen months, I am pretty sure he didn’t brush his teeth much, if at all. He certainly didn’t keep a toothbrush in sight in the bathroom or his bedroom.
But now, it doesn’t matter how infrequently David cleaned his teeth while he was sick.

Recently I had a viral infection of my gums. After a day or two my gums became so inflamed that even the extra soft bristles caused pain. Is that how David felt for months? He never complained of pain. Sometimes he would go to clinic and when they asked, what’s your pain level (on a scale of one to ten), he’d say, “Seven.” A seven for him would probably be a thirteen for me. I was grateful that he would answer these questions accurately for them; I was sad he didn’t share his pain with us more.

What else doesn’t matter? That he didn’t use the incentive spirometer to keep his lungs clear of pneumonia.


It doesn’t matter that when he got pneumonia in his last months it was never cured. It doesn’t matter that for seventeen months he didn’t walk around the block or lift handheld weights for exercise. It doesn’t matter that he stopped eating in the last days of his life.

All these physical concerns we mortals have don’t matter for him. I have no more worrying to do, but more crying.