Laughing gas.

Without this carefree state inducing gas, I couldn’t make it through a routine dental appointment without someone scraping me off the ceiling. Or at least without a few visits to the bathroom to cry. I don’t know what the deal is. As a teenager, I could have root canals and fillings and cleanings, without so much as a whimper. Now, just the thought of going to the dentist makes me anxious. Blech.