I'll tell you exactly how it happened. The needle went in precisely where it was supposed to. We'd agreed in advance about how it would be and I wasn't frightened. This is what I was thinking: that I was hoping it would help, that I was ridiculous for thinking it would help, that hope and thought are different (hope being like faith rather medieval, thought being like science more 20th century). These thoughts, and the pinch of penetration through the skin, the pain and the recognition of pain, which, even dulled, is present. You'll never think of things being boring in the same way again, I thought. And then. Then as the drill pierced the bone, then. Be here now, be in this moment. This is how it felt to me: it felt like the new pain was loud and insistent, but it also felt like the old pain, the curtain of pain that I had lived with for so long that I had ceased to notice it, was ... gone. It felt like I might be able to complete a thought without wincing. It felt radiant; it felt divine. I wish it had really happened.