Midnight Agony

A Story by ClaireMcFall

Midnight Agony

The dream was average, neither pleasant nor frightening. Just a chaotic collection of images, glimpsed that day or dredged up from memories, and woven into a bizarre tapestry of film that my subconscious accepted without question. Something about water, a flood. I was trying to save a child, but then I was shooting a film on the beach. Somehow I was in a cave, water trickling away, a school of fish outside waiting to be fed but I had no food for them. Friends calling me, daring to dash through the assortment of sea life and join them. I dashed, a lobster clicked at my toes. A haphazard, crazy dream, but I was used to it. A psychiatrist would have a field day with my night-time visions.

But then, just as my mind would sometimes fight the alarm, trying to convince me that it was a police siren or car alarm as the piercing beeping smashed its way into my reverie, the pain crept in. In my dream my jaw began to ache. Had I been punched in the mouth? Fallen on my face? For a moment my subconscious struggled to find a way to cope with this new information, to create a reality where I could accept the pain and stay safe in my abstract world. But it was losing the battle. The pain intensified, pulling me back into the real world, demanding that I open my eyes and pay attention to it. My subconscious tugged back, insisting that I stay under, unwilling and unready to wake. For a time - it could have been seconds or minutes, maybe even an hour, I had no way to judge �" the two fought for control of me. I drifted, increasingly aware of the throbbing ache, but unable to pull the blanket of sleep from my eyes.

Eventually the pain won. My eyes stayed closed, but curtain of oblivion parted. I knew where I was, warm and comfortable in my bed, my husband breathing deeply beside me. Before I had time to register this and snuggle contentedly deeper, waiting for sleep to return, the reason for waking made itself forcefully known. Throbbing, aching, ten inch nails driven up through my teeth into my brain. For a moment I drowned in it, still not fully conscious and unable to cope with the onslaught of pain. My head lolled slightly, my eyes rolled back. I was lost.

I must have moaned, but I was not aware of it. I couldn’t think beyond the red hot spikes that were filling my consciousness in waves. But the sound woke my husband. He rolled over and curled into me, stroking my forehead.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I veered violently away. The soft pressure of his fingers was suffocating, pinning me down.

“Don’t touch me,” I gasped, the involuntary sharpness to my voice a product of my desperation to be left to deal with the agony alone. Somehow it was easier to manage in isolation. He made one or two more soothing comments, suggesting I phone the Emergency Dentist. I snapped at him. It was unfair and uncalled for, but the pain made it hard to think rationally. I wanted him to go back to sleep, I wanted to be on my own. Eventually he turned away, hurt at my unkind rejection of his attempts to console me. I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to think around the fire in my brain.

Three minutes later I was engaged in a tussle. The thoughts that could coherently form demanded action. Painkillers waited in the kitchen, ready to bring relief. But my body was warm and comfortable, below the neck at least. It was reluctant to move, aware that the air above the duvet was saturated with the chill of February. It tried to lull me into a false sense of security. Wait, it crooned, this will pass. I tried to believe it, floating in a haze of hurt. There were moments of respite hidden in a stupor of sleep, swiftly overtaken by a surge of breath-taking agony. The longer I lay, the sharper the world came into focus; the whir of the fan, the uncomfortable angle of my neck on the twisted pillows, the fidgeting of my husband unable to sleep while I suffered. Defeated, my eyes snapped open, decision made.

Flapping the covers back, I hoisted myself out of bed. I crossed the obstacle course that was my bedroom cautiously, taking care not to tread on any one of the many objects that threatened to add to my discomfort. Upturned plugs and discarded high-heeled shoes with sharp silver buckles, heavy boxes and a large dresser with pointed corners. I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the safety of the hall and felt the chill of the laminated wooden floor beneath my feet. I tiptoed towards the kitchen, hoping my absence would allow my husband to sink back into unconsciousness. I felt my way in the dark, pausing to squint at the clock as I passed. Midnight. Ordinarily I would be overjoyed to have woken so early, thinking of the hours of blissful sleep that would follow when I returned to bed. Tonight all I could think was that there was a long way to go until the morning light, and anything I took now would not be enough to see me through. Even when I squashed this pain, there would be more on the way.

Once in the kitchen I headed straight for the sink. I knew I’d left a packet of ibuprofen there, carelessly tossed aside from dinnertime. That would save me from rooting around in the chaotic pit that was the medicine cabinet, or turning on the light and taking the final step into consciousness. Somehow the dark allowed me to pretend that this wasn’t real. It kept the promise of sleep hovering over me. The harsh fluorescents would banish it completely.

I grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, not even bothering to rinse it out so desperate was I to choke down the little drug that promised to release me from the bubble of blinding pain. I poured water into the glass �" hot, cold, it didn’t matter. The splashing sound of the liquid swirling around the vessel triggered another need, and I danced a little as I waited for it to fill. The drug, black in the dark although I knew it to be a shocking shade of pink, was sugar coated and slid down my throat with ease. However, ever mindful of the power of ibuprofen to stick in the throat and cause damage, I chugged it down with half the glass, wincing and shuffling as the need to urinate pulsed more urgently. I dashed to the bathroom and relieved myself, still in the dark. Then sighed, anticipating reprieve.

Instead, the throbbing intensified, pounding under my teeth. I tried to lie back down in bed, wondering how many minutes the drug would need to take effect. Ten minutes? Fifteen? I could last that long. I tried to lie on one side, then the other. Both brought surges of agony, squeezing the nerve in each tooth until it screamed. I settled on my back, throwing my arm across my face in an attempt to hide. Again I moaned, aware of the sound this time. It was pitiful, childlike. My husband turned over �" still awake then �" and gently stroked my knee. I tried to concentrate on his touch. The warm, gentle tickle as his fingers fluttered against my skin, but the ache refused to be ignored. It roared, red and ugly, claiming my full attention despite my efforts. I shook my head, trying to loosen its grip, but the movement only triggered fresh waves of pain. I lay still, gasping and whimpering, every muscle in my body tight. I couldn’t stand this, couldn’t lie motionless, had no patience to wait.

I got up again, making no attempt to be quiet this time, and shuffled through to the lounge. I noticed with relief that the pain seemed to lessen when I was moving. I opened the door to the one room that was always warm in the flat and stepped inside, smiling briefly as my toes curled into the thick pile that was luxurious after the cold wood. I paced the darkened room, able to take only three steps before I turned on myself. Why was it taking so long? It almost felt worse, pulsating barbed needles into my cheekbone. My eye throbbed, threatening to explode. It twitched, making the blurred shapes in the room vibrate slightly.

Despite the agony, a wave of tiredness swept through me and I crashed onto the couch. I swayed, halfway between sleep and waking, lulled by the darkness but jolted back to reality by the pain. Again I drifted, aware only of pain, hardly able to open my eyes. I rocked gently back and forth, trying to soothe myself into sleep. After several minutes I became aware that I was swaying in tandem with the throb of the toothache. Shocked, I pulled my eyes open and forced myself to sit still. I focused on the thin slither of light that snuck under the doorway from the stairwell of our block of flats, trying to stay in the present. What time was it? I walked into the hall to the luminous clock, still unwilling to switch on any lights. Half past twelve. I stared at it in horror. Half an hour? That should have been plenty of time. The drug wasn’t working.

I trudged back to the lounge, flicking the light on in despair. The energy-saving bulb sparked feebly to life, bathing the room in a dull glow which quickly flared into a harsh white light. I squeezed my eyes against the assault of brightness, grimacing as the motion set more burning pokers drilling into my jaw. Out of ideas, I continued my stunted pacing in the tiny room. Three steps towards the window, three steps towards the door. I trailed my fingers across the small dining table and around the solid black handles of the much ignored cross-trainer. Mindless movement. My mind whirled around and around in circles. If I couldn’t kill the pain, I couldn’t sleep. If I couldn’t sleep I would be locked in the agony all night. I needed to kill the pain.

I paused halfway across the room and stared into the mirror that hung on the wall. My face stared back at me. My hair hung around my face in disarray, its dark brown colour bleaching my face chalky white. My jaw was clenched and my green eyes bright, wild. It wasn’t a face I recognised.

The painkiller I had taken was very strong. I’d headed straight for the good stuff, and I knew I couldn’t take two. Vague notions involving a piece of string and a slamming door floated into my head, but I dismissed them immediately. I would never have the resolve to do it, and besides the pain was all over. I had no idea which tooth was the culprit. I had other drugs, different types. But I knew I was supposed to wait two hours in between. I glanced at the clock. Twelve forty-five. Could I wait an hour and a quarter? A fresh twinge left me gasping. No, then.

I got back up and resumed pacing, undecided. My eyes felt heavy again, a plea for my body for sleep. I was exhausted. What harm could it really do? The safety guidelines were always overcautious. It would be fine. And then I could sleep. This thought appealed to me above all others. Without conscious thought I coasted back to the kitchen. This time I turned on the light and yanked over the cupboard, hunting for something specific. The big red box shouted out at me and I grabbed it, turning it over in my hands. Red for danger. This was stupid. Heedless I pulled it opened and clutched two sachets, ripping them open and dumping them in the still half full glass of water from earlier. I watched as the large white circles exploded and fizzed, bubbling frothy foam to the surface. Not bothering with a spoon, I stuck my finger into the tepid water and swirled it, trying to accelerate the dissolving process.

Three gulps emptied the glass. I waited, bracing myself from experience. The caffeine in the drug would hit first, escalating the pulsating agony. I clenched my jaw convulsively, hissing in air through my teeth as this drove the knives of pain deeper still. Relax, I told myself again and again, willing my muscles to obey. My eyes widened hopefully as the pulsating began to dim. The lower half of my jaw cooled into irrelevance, not responding when I stretched and flexed it experimentally. The fire in the upper half retreated to one tooth, one large molar that had caused me so much trouble in the past. The tooth I’d begged the dentist to try and save when he’d suggested pulling it out. I didn’t think that it had been the cause of the pain, but it was its last stand of defence.

I probed at the offending tooth with my tongue, pushing at it in a futile attempt to dislodge the ache. It pushed back, fiery torture. Tears of frustration threatened, but I held them back. I had to deal with this rationally. If I lost my head I felt like I would go to pieces. I took deep, steadying breaths. I had taken everything I could, I would just have to wait it out.

A face appeared in the glass door, body hidden by the dark hallway. My husband, come to investigate. I smiled weakly, reassuringly. I didn’t want him to worry. He wasn’t fooled. He came in to the room and sat down on the couch. I sat on the chair opposite. We looked at each other, silent.

“I’m fine,” I eventually said. He looked disbelieving and I couldn’t blame him. Wanting to confess I added, “I took extra pain killers. They’ll work in a minute.”

He looked disapproving, but nodded. Then we simply sat. I was barely aware of his presence. My every thought was focussed on testing the pain, analysing the ferocity, looking for tiny decreases in potency, something to hold on to. Seconds ticked by. I waited. Tested. Waited.

“Let’s try and sleep,” I sighed. If the pain wasn’t shifting, at least I could try to be comfortable. I followed Chris back into the bedroom and lay down. Right side hurt. Left side hurt. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to come and overpower the ache. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was dulling, still throbbing torturously, but without the venom it had had before. I concentrated on that one thought and closed my eyes, willing it to be true. Slowly the burn faded and the peace of oblivion claimed me.

© 2011 ClaireMcFall

Author's Note

I wrote this at 5am (during toothache induced insomnia) so apologies if it's a bit thick and laborious. I could work on it... but I quite like that it reflects my hazy brain.