What is it? That smell. It's like dust but something is wrong with it. I hear a drill. Oh shit! That smell is my bone. I breathing in fragments of my own structure! That's one thing you should never smell. Four tools in action. I can't move. I'm helpless. I just have to lay there and take it. I'm paying for this to be done.
I can't move. If I do something will go terribly wrong. More wrong than what my senses are currently telling me. My motionless body dances in what is contractions in my hands and spine. They flex cautiously and I have to tell myself to relax. The only other movement is in my eyes. I don't want to look at him, afraid he might look at me. I want him to focus on what he's doing and not distract him, for that would bring much greater discomfort. His head moves into my line of sight so my eyes draw an imaginary line around his body and focus on little things. A dot in the ceiling tile, the northeast corner of a ceiling vent. These are my only escape. I'm paying to have this done to me.
I can't feel it but I can hear the high pitch scream of the drill, the sucking sound to remove bone fragments he's grinding away. I hear the light scratching of metal picks against my bone. I smell something synthetic? It's strong and brushed against the bone. Reminds me of airplane glue? There's a gun that shoots purple infra-red lasers at my bones. I'm really so glad his vision is protected while I'm laying here frozen in time. I'm paying for this
I hear ever more drilling and suction. I rise and return to the land of the moving. $300 is taken from me and they want to do it all over again soon. No wonder some people hate the dentist...
