When Care Becomes Contact

When Care Becomes Contact
Aurras – Return to the Body by Bettina Kira Neumann

This story is for practitioners who want to bring humanity back into care — and for patients who need to know their presence matters as much as their treatment.

Sometimes the deepest lessons about embodied care arrive when we are the ones receiving it.
This story began in a dental chair and became a reflection on what happens when communication disappears — and how the simple act of presence can turn a procedure into partnership.
It’s a reminder that healing depends not only on skill, but on the nervous system’s sense of safety, trust, and attunement.
It also speaks to the heart of Somatic Movement and the Life/Art Process — practices that teach us to listen, move, and create from embodied awareness.

The Experience

Yesterday I sat in the dental chair — this time as the patient.
And something happened that I can’t shake.

At first there was no warning, no “I’m about to start.”
The dentist didn’t say anything before beginning.
To his credit, when I asked him to please tell me what he was going to do, he paused and explained the full procedure clearly.
And I appreciated that.
But what he didn’t understand was that communication isn’t a one-time orientation; it’s a continuous thread.
It’s the steady voice that stays with a patient while things are happening — the words that help the body track where it is in the process.
If he couldn’t keep that thread himself, it could have been his assistant’s voice —
someone to say, “You’ll feel something cool now,” or “We’re placing this piece,” instead of the empty comfort of “You’re okay.”
That’s all it takes for a nervous system to stay regulated.

The First Break

Early in the procedure I began to gag.
My mouth was propped open, instruments inside, saliva pooling in my throat.
I couldn’t speak or swallow, yet they kept asking, “What’s going on? Tell us!”
The panic rose not from pain, but from the impossibility of answering.
How could I tell them what was happening when I physically couldn’t form words?
That helplessness stayed in my body long after the moment passed.

And yet, the assistant noticed.
She softened the room without saying much — maybe just through her tone, her eyes.
She was the one who released the device that had propped my mouth open, the one who saw that I couldn’t swallow.
Her kind voice was all I needed to feel seen and heard.
That simple act of awareness — and the chance to breathe again — let my body know I still existed.

The Second Break

Later came another shock.
Suddenly there was a syringe, a rush of cold, gooey material filling my mouth.
No warning — only, “Close your mouth.”
I didn’t understand at first.
Then I realized he expected me to keep it closed until the material hardened.
My jaw locked, my breath caught.
For a moment I felt like I might never open my mouth again.
It wasn’t the substance itself — it was the shock of contact, the loss of orientation, the touch without words.

And earlier, when he’d offered me “herbal gummies” to help me relax — I see now that what he wanted was silence, not partnership.
A body doesn’t need to be numbed to be calm; it needs to feel safe.
Safety comes through communication — the rhythm of being kept in the loop, breath by breath.

What This Teaches Me About Care

As a practitioner, I know the other side — the time pressure, the constant focus, the documentation, the multitasking, the questions flooding in, the pressure to look competent even when our own systems are frayed.

But this experience also showed me something harder to admit:
many healthcare offices don’t have a language for human connection.
They know how to explain a procedure, but not how to orient a nervous system.
They know the steps, but not the words that create safety.

And yet, it takes so little — a pause, a sentence, a tone of voice.
It doesn’t slow the work; it anchors it.
Because a regulated patient makes the practitioner’s job easier, not harder.

The Reflection

Later I wondered if I had made it worse — if my own intensity or sensitivity created tension in him.
Maybe I wasn’t the easiest patient.
But that self-doubt is its own form of trauma — a patient blaming herself for needing care in a system that has forgotten how to listen.

The truth is: I was asking for partnership, not perfection.
I was offering awareness, not resistance.
I wanted to help him do his best work — by being fully present in my own body.

Embodied Takeaways for Practitioners

1. Orient before every touch.
   A simple sentence — “You’ll feel pressure now” — gives the body a map.

2. Keep communication alive.
   Don’t stop once consent is given; stay in dialogue throughout the procedure.

3. Let presence lead.
   One mindful breath, a softer tone — co-regulation begins here.

Embodied Takeaways for Patients

1. Respect the practitioner’s expertise.
   Trust their skill and judgment; they’ve trained for this work.
   Stay reasonable in your expectations — they can’t read your mind, but they can respond if you communicate what’s needed.

2. Advocate for your needs.
   Share what helps your body stay regulated — a slower pace, small pauses, or quieter sound.
   You can ask for adjustments without trying to control the process.

3. Keep communication open.
   Dialogue, not direction, creates trust.
   When both patient and practitioner stay aware and connected, care becomes collaboration.

Return to the Body

I left the chair angry, but also clearer.
The body is not an obstacle; it’s a teacher.
If we learn to listen — to ourselves and to each other — we transform procedures into presence, and care into connection.

In the studio, we practice this every day — through Somatic Movement and the Life/Art Process, learning how breath, rhythm, and tone turn contact into care.
Because medicine, like movement, begins in the moment one human says to another, “I see you.”

Invitation: Join the Pilot Research

If this story resonates with you — as a patient, practitioner, or caregiver — you’re already part of the conversation.
Return to the Body is a living practice and pilot research project exploring how Somatic Movement and the Life/Art Process can transform the way we give and receive care.

Are you curious how this work could support you or your team?
Let’s find out whether this pilot and its scholarship program are a fit for you.

👉 Book a Clarity Call with Bettina Kira Neumann › 
A short Zoom conversation to learn more, ask questions, and explore how you can be part of Return to the Body: Where Movement & Art Become Medicine.