"Salma; The Dentist Who Designed for Dancing Letters"

In the land of enamel and x-rays, I learned the art of dentistry—but my textbooks fought me. Words like "periodontitis" wiggled like loose teeth. "Why does everyone else read this so easily?" I wondered, squinting at pages that blurred like misty clinic windows.

Then—the revelation: my brain was wired for stories, not static letters. Dyslexia made:

• Memorizing dental anatomy feel like assembling a puzzle in a tornado...
• But spotting patterns in patients’ pain points? That was my genius.

Without realizing it, dentistry trained me to:

• Decode chaos (a mouth full of cavities = a messy interface).
• Simplify the complex (explaining root canals to nervous patients = writing clear microcopy)
• Design for stress (if a dental chair feels scary, so does a cluttered app!).

One day, I met a terrible medical app—tiny text, confusing buttons. "This feels like my old textbooks!" I thought. Lightbulb moment: I could design tools that don’t require decoding