What’s the last thing you let yourself be wrong about?

I spent three hours yesterday arguing with a nurse about whether 'dyspnea' was a medical term or just a fancy word for shortness of breath. I was certain it wasn’t. Then I looked it up and yes, it is. And I still felt weirdly proud of being wrong—like I’d been stubborn in service of something real. What’s the last thing you let yourself believe, even when you knew you might be off?