“Please sir,” the nurse said. “Leave your eye alone. It will only make things worse.” The cold grip of her surgeon’s glove clasped my forehead. “Look up for me, please.” She pumped three drops of dilating solution in my eye before I could respond. The doctor walked into the room, still wiping his damp arms.
“Well, how’s our patient today?” he asked.
“Can I be asleep for this?”
“Sorry–no. I need you awake for this, son. Trust me, you won’t feel a thing.”
“But I don’t want to REMEMBER a thing.”
“It will be fine. I do this all the time.”
The nurse unpacked his surgical equipment, and placed each item neatly on the tray before me. Seven steel scalpels lay in wait, as they tittered with delight. Sutures, sufficient to sew a gaping wound shut on an elephant, piled in a heap next to them, and then there were the needles. Needles, long enough to bore a hole through my head, lined up one after the other. I said a silent prayer with morbid anticipation.
“Are you sure I won’t feel anything?”
“You’ll be fine.” He grabbed my head and spread apart my weeping eyelids. He pulled his microscope close to my face as I stared out into the light above, searching for comfort. “I think we are ready to start,” he said as he grabbed a hold of the sharpest needle on the tray, and held it up. “Ok son. You’re going to feel a little pinch.”
I gasped as the mighty lance pierced my skin. With a dull shrill of torture, it slowly plowed into my warm flesh. Down through my muscle it passed, into my brain, and beyond the memories of times gone by; stopping only when the tip of the needle broke off in the back of my skull. Ten times it plunged into my screaming head, and each time, the table let out rattle as I squeezed my toes and clinched my fists. Without a doubt, I didn’t want to remember.