Surgery (flashback)

Surgery.
The word echoed through my head like a herd of elephants fucking in a cave.
Surgery.
I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes with as much force as I could muster. I don't want to pass out! I don't need surgery! I'm fine! I'll, I'll walk it off! Don't, just don't do this to me please!
How could you...
I forced my eyes open for what might be the last time. No! Stop this cart! Guerny. Gernie? How do you spell that? G-e-r-...
Focus! Don't let the drugs get to you... Don't pass out... Don't...


I am six years old. Half of my mouth hurts. The other half is numb and dry. It might not even be there. I poke my finger in my mouth to make sure it's still there. My mouth feels like cotton. Wait, I think it IS cotton!
"MOOM!" I cry.
"What, dear?" she answers.
"Dhad no-good nendisd durn' my mouv inna gottin!"
"No, silly; he just put cotton balls into your mouth so you wouldn't bite your cheek."
"Oh." I feel silly.
"He did it so you wouldn't hurt yourself. _And_ he fixed your teeth so you won't get cavities. Dentists are good people."
"Ogaay mom."
My eyes drift out the window and the gentle rumbling of the car rocks me to sleep.


I forced my eyes open with as much force as I could muster, which just so happened to be on the level of a newborn kitten armed with overcooked pasta. I looked around and found myself in a tub of ice. I found a freshly-stitched-shut incision on my left side, right around where my kidney used to be.
"Oh SON OF A-"