Wisdom.

Despite all the horror stories I’d heard about getting wisdom teeth out, I was as calm as could be sitting in the dentist's chair. But as soon as the oral surgeon walked through the door, that calmness went out the window. He looked about 80 years old and knocked over a canister of cotton swabs as he reached for the needle that would numb me. He then proceeded to poke at my mouth with no warning whatsoever. In complete shock of his abrupt technique, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was probably staring at him with such an intense look of fear that it became distracting because he instructed the assistant to cover my eyes with a mask. This only heightened my anxiety. I sensed my body trembling. All of a sudden I was 6 years old again getting silver caps to protect my weak enamel. Tense and scared, I could feel the sweat on my forehead and palms and my toes cramping from being curled and twisted. I spent the next half hour expecting to feel the pain— the physical manifestation of all the cracking and drilling that I could hear. But the corresponding feelings never came. Before I knew it, all four teeth were out and I could once again see the light… of the overhead bulb. Reverting to memories of past pain greatly affected my present situation. I felt silly. Being afraid of getting hurt ruined a potentially positive experience. Anticipating the pain was just as agonizing as the actual pain.