Stephen King: The Dead Zone

Johnny had been given two preop injections, one of demerol and one of atropine, and when he was wheeled in he was as high as a kite. The anesthetist approached with the biggest novocaine needle Johnny had ever seen in his life. He expected that the injection would hurt, and he was not wrong. He was injected between L4 and L5, the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae, high enough up to avoid the cauda equina, that bundle of nerves at the base of the spine that vaguely resembles a horse’s tail.

Johnny lay on his stomach and bit his arm to keep from screaming.

After an endless time, the pain began to fade to a dull sensation of pressure. Otherwise, the lower half of his body was totally gone.

Ruopp’s face loomed over him. The green bandit, Johnny thought. Jesse James in horn-rims. Your money or your life.

‘Are you comfortable, Mr. Smith?’ Ruopp asked.

‘Yes. But I’d just as soon not go through that again.’

‘You may read magazines, if you like. Or you may watch in the mirror, if you feel it will not upset you.’

‘All right.’

‘Nurse, give me a blood pressure, please.’

‘One-twenty over seventy-six, Doctor.’

‘That’s lovely. Well, group, shall we begin?’

‘Save me a drumstick,’ Johnny said weakly, and was surprised by the hearty laughter.

Ruopp patted his sheet-covered shoulder with one thinly gloved hand.

He watched Ruopp select a scalpel and disappear behind the green drapes hung over the metal hoop that curved above Johnny. The mirror was convex, and Johnny had a fairly good if slightly distorted view of everything.

‘Oh yes,’ Ruopp said. ‘Oh yes, dee-de-dee … here’s what we want … hum-de-hum… okay

… damp, please, Nurse, come on, wake up for Christ’s sake … yes sir … now I believe I’d like one of those… no, hold it… don’t give me what I ask for, give me what I need … yes, okay. Strap, please.’

With forceps, the nurse handed Ruopp something that looked like a bundle of thin wires twisted together. Ruopp picked them delicately out of the air with tweezers.

Like an Italian dinner, Johnny thought, and look at all that spaghetti sauce. That was what made him feel ill, and he looked away. Above him, in the gallery, the rest of the bandit gang looked down at him. Their eyes looked pale and merciless and frightening.

Then he spotted Weizak, third from the right, his watch pinned neatly to the front of his gown.

Johnny nodded.

Weizak nodded back.

That made it a little better.

3.

Ruopp finished the connections between his knees and calves, and Johnny was turned over. Things continued. The anesthesiologist asked him if he felt all right. Johnny told her he thought he felt as well as possible under the circumstances. She asked him if he would like to listen to a tape and he said that would be very nice. A few moments later the dear, sweet voice of Joan Baez filled the operating room. Ruopp did his thing. Johnny grew sleepy and dozed off. When he woke up the operation was still going on. Weizak was still there. Johnny raised one hand, acknowledging his presence, and Weizak nodded again.

4.

An hour later it was done. He was wheeled into a recovery room where a nurse kept asking him if he could tell her how many of his toes she was touching. After a while, Johnny could.

Ruopp came in, his bandit’s mask hanging off to one side.

‘All right?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘It went very well,’ Ruopp said. ‘I’m optimistic.’

‘Good.’

‘You’ll have some pain,’ Ruopp said. ‘Quite a lot of it, perhaps. The therapy itself will give you a lot of pain at first. Stick with it.’

‘Stick with it,’ Johnny muttered.

‘Good afternoon,’ Ruopp said, and left. Probably, Johnny thought, to play a quick nine on the local golf course before it got too dark.

5.

Quite a lot of pain.

By nine P.M. the last of the local had worn off, and Johnny was in agony. He was forbidden to move his legs without the help of two nurses. It felt as if nail-studded belts had been looped around his knees and then cinched cruelly tight. Time slowed to an inchworm’s crawl. He would glance at his watch, sure that an hour had passed since the last time he had looked at it, and would see instead that it had only been four minutes. He became sure he couldn’t stand the pain for another minute, then the minute would pass, and he would be sure he couldn’t stand it for another minute.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *