As you all know, I had my wisdom teeth extracted about a month ago. I must say I am glad it is behind me! That day, naturally, I was quite tense and dreading the visit. I kept saying to myself as I sat beside my dad who drove me that morning, “What they heck are you doing submitting yourself to pain knowingly?”

Read moreI had to continually remind myself that I had been dealing with pain for six weeks and this was how I was going to get rid of it! I had an urge to flee that appointment that was strong and it took a lot of logic to keep me moving toward that office. It was a battle.

When I entered the waiting room, there was nothing else to do except survey the room. I didn’t have the frame of mind to even attempt to read something. I knew with my nerves doing that would be fruitless. So what else was there to do, but look at the faces before me?

The first woman I noted was a heavier-set blond woman, probably in her 30s. She was reading what appeared to be Reader’s Digest. I was envious she felt like reading. That lucky beast!! Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing comfortable sweats and sneakers.

As I looked her over in quick, hoping to be not obvious glances, I became more and more envious of her. She was clearly not one of today’s victims, I thought. I watched her foot wiggle as her left leg was resting on her right knee. The movement her foot made was soft and flowing. It was calm, as if she were singing a tune in her head. Clearly, she was not stressed or tensed in the least. Her body language was relaxed. She had an outward appearance that nothing much mattered. I sat and wondered the nature of her visit: a post-op appointment? A second opinion? Whatever it was, it was going to be painless for her. That was obvious. If only that could have been me, I thought.

I envied her as I watched her. Subsequently, she was the first to be called in to see the doctor, and as I suspected, she came back out within minutes, happy as a lark as she went on with her day. What I would have done at that moment to trade places with her!

I was looking for comfort. I wanted to see another person there in my shoes who was coping better than I was, who could calm me with their self-assured demeanor — a lucky find in a desperate hour when the desire to bolt is stronger than the desire to stay.

Instead, I sat with all four limbs planted down beside me. My feet squarely planted on the floor, my hands tightly gripping the arm rests. For some reason in times of stress, we humans have a need to literally feel “grounded”. Why is that? We don’t want to feel in any way uneven, or unbalanced. Strange, isn’t it? I probably was rapidly shaking a foot or a leg, but I don’t consciously remember doing it. And if you watched me, my eyes darted around the room in an endless search for comfort, which I couldn’t find. I needed something, anything interesting to engage me. A happy woman in a chair, who was content, was not it! Or, I wanted an empathetic connection.

The next person who I feasted my eyes on came in the door dressed in a suit. Yeah, he was easy pickings. As he walked to the receptionist window with a briefcase, it was obvious he was a pharmaceutical salesman. No luck there. Most patients at an oral surgeon don’t come in dressed in a suit nor do they carry a briefcase. He was absent of all fear or worry, too! Damn. He went in to greet the receptionist through a private door.

I wanted company! I wanted a companion in my fear and apprehension. I didn’t want to feel like the only one.

Next, a couple walked in and went to the receptionist window. He was all friendly, bubbly and talkative: typical husband! He even talked for his wife to alert the receptionist she was here for her appointment, but his wife anything but happy and bubbly. She looked down as she walked in and sat opposite from me. Then she glanced out the window. She was in avoidance mode. These two people were simple people. Their faces told me they were kind at heart. They were hard-working people dressed for manual labor. She wouldn’t give me eye contact, so I kept my glances cursory, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her either.

She was clearly in pain–in agony, actually. The tension in her body matched mine, maybe even worse. By the look on her face, it became clear she likely had a toothache of major proportions. I think she had it worse than I did. I felt bad for her. This woman clearly reminded me of people I had known in the past who had a serious fear of the dentist. I suspect she had avoided one to the point of no return and it was the pain that finally made her relent.

As I glanced at her again and again, I tried to look mindlessly across the room. Her face just wreaked of fear. It took everything she had within her to keep herself planted in that chair. She refused to look at anyone and finally found a moment of peace when she spotted a finch in the tree outside the window. Her relief was as temporary as the bird that perched on that branch for a second before flying off again.

Just watching this woman across the room made me tense. That good old saying comes to mind, “Watch what you wish for!” I found myself getting more and more edgy. I so wanted to reach out to her to say, “I know how you feel…hey, we’re in this together. We’re not alone!” but her body language was clearly conveying to me, “I’m at my limit right now emotionally and physically”, so I held back in my desire for a connection. I caught myself about to speak three times — desperate not to feel so alone, but I knew it wasn’t the place or time. Her needs and my needs were not the same.

I was the first of the two of us to be called into the back. In between my discussions with the doctor, I saw her enter the room across from me and before I knew it, I saw her go to get an panoramic x-ray. The doctor said it was required for the work they were going to do. Then I heard her say to the doctor, “I know. I’m a weird cat. I do wear my night guard, but I wake up with it at my feet. It’s crazy, but what can I do? I take it out in my sleep and don’t even know it.”

I could overhear their discussions in bits and pieces. She had some serious infection and had obviously ignored her mouth for too long. They were discussing options for two different problems, and one of them required an immediate extraction. I saw her side profile. She was ghost white, and I suspect on the edge of a panic attack. Her body was rigid and tense as she sat in the dental chair. Then her door closed just before mine did and I never saw her again, but according to my dad, she took the same fateful walk I did out the back door where there were no stairs, but a car waiting to whisk you away! She gave up a tooth or two, too. I will never forget her face.

I just thought it was interesting how we wear our emotions on our face, how a visit to the oral surgeon’s office, where the stakes are high, can reveal a lot of details about who is having some serious work done and who is not…

Body language is often more powerful than words, if we only take the time to watch and observe.