We were awakened the next morning by three men we had never seen before. One of them spoke English, very poorly, but we could understand him. He said, “Come with me.” They blindfolded us and took us upstairs into another room. We waited for approximately an hour before they removed our blindfolds.
The room was not modern, but it was clean and, to our total amazement, contained all of our medical, surgical, and dental supplies. A generator was brought in to run the equipment. I was in awe of their ability to transport these supplies without being apprehended. It must have taken an incredible amount of time, organization, and research to accomplish such a task in a short period. This man must be very important for them to go to such trouble to kidnap Trudy and me and steal the equipment. These people knew exactly what they were doing, and they were very serious about their mission.
By this time, my neck was stiff and sore. My eyes were so fatigued that I was having difficulty focusing. A gritty, sticky film covered both eyes. I felt the lump on my head where the blood had dried and entangled my hair. Trudy was not faring much better than I. Her hair was sticking straight up in the air. Always the optimist, she said, “Ray, you know I always rise to the occasion, so does my hair.” It was not one of her funniest puns, but I laughed anyway.
The men returned and ordered us to begin. We set up the portable dental unit and assembled the surgical instruments as usual. Bowls, disinfectant, and sterile wraps were strategically positioned. I reached for my headlamp. I was surprised to see it was my own from the clinic in Jordan. These men had been meticulous in their preparation of the room.
It took us about an hour to set up, but we did it, and we were ready for any kind of dental problem that came through the door. We told them that we were prepared to proceed when they were. We waited for almost two-and-a-half hours. Then, suddenly, they came over to us and placed the head covers on us again, and soon afterwards, we heard men coming from the other room. As the group of men came into the room, everything fell silent. They took off our head coverings. We both gasped in disbelief. Standing before us was bin Laden himself. He was sitting in the chair with several men surrounding him, including the two men who spoke to us in English. I could barely breathe when I realized the importance of this situation: I am being forced to treat the most wanted man on Earth. Trudy turned to me; we were speechless. I didn’t know whether I should speak to him or perfunctorily go through the procedure without interacting with him at all.
The men wanted to get started immediately.
Bin Laden looked terrible. His face was severely swollen on the left side, to the point that his left eye was swollen shut. He looked dehydrated and frail. He still had facial hair, but it had been woven to prevent it from interfering with his treatment.
While the men around him were talking to him, he just sat there looking at me as if to say, “I know by the look on your face you know who I am. Are you going to help me or what?”
Three of the men held rifles as if they were extensions of their bodies. Two dogs followed along closely behind them. When they started to bark at us, the man commanded them to stop. Immediately, the dogs sat. I noticed they wore unusual-looking collars. Upon closer inspection, I detected the presence of a radio device that I had not seen before in the United States. These dogs were obviously well trained. A Rottweiler and a Doberman, they were healthy, sleek, and muscular. I could not, however, ascertain why they would have radio collars.
While we were in the room with bin Laden, I observed one of the men working on a laptop computer. His attempts to secure an Internet connection yielded no results. It obviously had WiFi capabilities, but it was not connecting. I could not imagine why he would be trying to go online. We were underground; chances of reaching a live connection were almost nonexistent. I think he was trying to execute a program. Then, it occurred to me. My Mikecrodent chip was interfering with his computer.
He struggled with it for ten more minutes and gave up. I was relieved until he proceeded to scour the room for signs of interference, potential problem areas for frequency distortion or for a device that might block the signals. He stared at me, twice, and then looked away. Alarmed by the sudden interest he had in me, I returned to the business of examining bin Laden’s mouth.
I noticed several times that one of the men in the group kept nodding his head when I would speak. He seemed especially gracious when interacting with me but harsh when he spoke to the other men. They wore black turbans like those usually worn by the Iraqis. I noticed that the man with the red turban was missing a finger on his left hand. I could see it as he wrapped his hand around the barrel of his rifle. I wondered what happened to this man.
Meanwhile, the radio walkie-talkies were going off every few minutes. I hesitated for several seconds before approaching bin Laden. I knew I had to examine him, ask questions, and touch him. I could not begin without finding out about his other health conditions. When I asked him the first question, a simple straightforward question about his general health, the interpreter stopped me. “No. You begin now.” He was adamant that I had absolutely no interaction with bin Laden.
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