In all actuality, the Amygdala is truly a fascinating part of the brain. This almond shaped mass of nuclei located deep within the temporal lobes, generates the overwhelming sensation of terror, that racks our bodies during times of sheer vulnerability. Like most children, I was no exception to this unwritten code of harboring these undeniable sensations of fear toward certain visuals. Two in particular, happened to fall hand in hand with one another. One being needles and the other being doctors. Now, It’s common knowledge amongst my friends, that this makes to be a formidable combination in my eyes. However, not many know the traumatizing tale as to how this fear came to be.
I vividly remember the sterilized office, that I was confined in. Desperate for something to capture the interest of my seven year old attention span, as I awaited the arrival of my tormentor. Even though illness had been no stranger to me in these times, these offices all appeared the same. Posters about lead infested candies ( perhaps I should have mentioned that I grew up in California and believe it or not, it’s common to see these sorts of posters within doctor’s offices. They warn parents and children about the lead within candies imported from Mexico. ) and other moderately disturbing conditions, that emphasized the amount of ignorance I held as a child. Though unlike most of those clinic’s, this office had a slight noticeable difference. Even for a child with a limited amount of knowledge, it didn’t take rocket science to conclude, that there were no sick people lingering about the building. They all appeared to have been perfectly fine, but were consulting a doctor for some reason. Therefore, I also felt it odd, that I had been among that number of healthy individuals. Surprisingly at the time, I felt fine, for once in my youthful existence. However, it wasn’t until the doctor had arrived and formally greeted my mother, that this troubling visit began to become clear.
He had been in a sub division of trained medical professionals, that I have grown to loath, because of this situation. He was an Allergist and I was to become his next victim of a series of agonizing tests. Despite the fact I had been confided in that same room for an hour or so, undergoing these series of tests, I felt I had been there long enough to determine his sadistic ( or so it seemed ) smile meant that I had been far from finished. At this point in time, he had entered the room with a small case within his grasp and upon opening it, I realized my impending doom. The case was lined with syringes and at the time I was told there were twenty-one. I had already not been a fan of the idea of one syringe penetrating my skin, but the mere thought of twenty-one of them stole the air from my lungs. I still remember leaping from my mothers lap and throwing myself up against the wall, trying to create some form of distance between myself and my tormentor. I’m quite sure there was a point in time, within that matter of stalling, that I had wished I could pass though the wall and make my escape. However, reality truly is harsh and I was obviously unable to escape the excruciating pain of the needles stabbing into my flesh. One after another, until all twenty-one had forced enough tears to dehydrate my tiny body. However, what little hope I had for being done was crushed, when I realized that he would have to repeat the process to the other arm…
I’d like to think that my tale of terror relates to Golding’s novel, Lord of the flies, for it expresses not only the aspect of fear ( which should go without stating, but I felt the need to do so anyway ), but the idea of shattering hope. For in my shared experience, my hope was easily crushed within a matter of minutes, however the boys on the island slowly seem to loose faith in the idea of someone coming to rescues them with their dilemma of keeping the fire lit.