A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [31]
I am brought back by the screaming pitch of the drill. I can feel a tooth on the left front side of my upper gum and I know the drill is coming in to fix the right. It hits and penetrates and I am conscious during the penetration and the process of endurance repeats itself. I lose the air and the ability to breathe it. I clench my eyes and I bite down and I squeeze the tennis balls and every single cell of my body feels as if it is going to explode from the force of the pain. If there was a God, I would spit in his face for subjecting me to this. If there was a Devil, I would sell him my soul to make it end. If there was something Higher that controlled our individual fates, I would tell it to take my fate and shove it up its fucking ass. Shove it hard and far, you Motherfucker. Please end. Please end. Please end.
The vacuum sucks and the instrument scrapes and I endure. The interior of the canal is cleaned and drained and I endure. The canal is filled with new flesh and the root is protected and I endure. There is putty and blue light and a sander, putty and blue light and a sander, putty and blue light and a sander. I endure. I’m somewhere in Minnesota and I’m a Patient at a Drug and Alcohol Treatment Center and I’m having my front four teeth rebuilt and I’m strapped into a chair because I can’t have any anesthesia. All I can do is endure.
I feel water flowing off what must be teeth and the last of the grit washes down my throat. The cotton is removed from my cheeks and my gums and I hear muffled voices and the sink is running and cabinet doors are opening and closing. I open my eyes. I see flashes of white and I have trouble focusing. The halogen is still on. There is movement and the halogen is off and something moves away from me and other things move toward me. I hear the buckles on the straps release and the straps are pulled off and the Babar book is removed and my body is now free to move and function as it wishes and I am immediately cold and I am immediately shaking. I try to sit up and I am unable to sit up. I try to lift my head and I am unable to lift my head. I try to focus my eyes and my eyes won’t focus. I’m cold and getting colder. I’m starting to shake harder. I am still clutching the tennis balls. The agony has yet to subside.
Someone lifts me and wraps a blanket around me. The blanket is warm and the warmth brings on an intense nausea and I can feel it coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it and it comes. It comes easily, and somehow its coming loosens my stomach and my lungs and my torso and although I still can’t focus my eyes, I can see that it’s red. It comes and comes and comes. Red red red. All over the blanket, all over the chair, all over the floor, all over myself. I let go of the tennis balls and I try to lift my hand to wipe my face but my hand is shaking and my face is shaking and I can’t make them meet. My hand falls to my side.
Get some more blankets and get some water. Hurry.
I lie back on the chair.
Are you okay, James?
I moan.
Can you understand me?
I moan again, nod yes.
You need to go to the Hospital. I’m going to call an Ambulance.
I don’t want to go to a Hospital, so I gather whatever strength I have and I push myself up and I open my eyes. Doctor Stevens is standing in front of me.
No Hospital.
You need Medical Attention. Attention we can’t give you.
The chair.
What?
Lower the chair.
Doctor Stevens lowers the chair. I put my feet on the floor. I am cold and I am shaking and everything hurts. I’m sick of Doctors and Dentists and Nurses and chairs and tests and halogen lights and instruments and clean Rooms and sterile sinks and bloody procedures and I’m sick of the attention the weak and the injured and the needy receive and I don’t