The End of the World

Whenever someone does anything to me with a needle I make an effort to smile. This is because decades ago when I had a minor operation I was on the table and the doctor was about to administer the anesthetic when he moved his masked face close to mine and said with startling gruffness, why the grimace, kid? It's not like this is the end of the world. I had no idea I was grimacing. I had no idea that my fear appeared to others as anger. After that, whenever I had to get a shot or give blood I strove to smile before the needle pierced my skin and oh how the reviews changed; nurses would say aren't you the brave man and offer me a lollipop or compliment me on the clarity of my veins. The pain was still there I guess but the pain was just one part of the experience and not the most important part. 

This morning I had to give blood for the annual wellness check and just before the bee sting I smiled automatically but the nurse didn't say anything and kept on not saying anything as my blood unspooled and it hit me that like everyone else in the hospital I was wearing a mask and she couldn't tell what was happening with my face. In fact she was trying to keep her head as far back away from mine as possible in order to maintain the proper distance. The rules had changed. I could contort my face any way I liked and no one would be able to tell, no one would even care, but after living with this habit all these years the natural thing was for me to smile as though facing the end of the world.