I want you
to tell me what they are and what they’re used for.”
“Okay,”
John said.
Dr. Sanchez
placed her canvas bag on her lap and pulled out a plastic fork. Seriously? John didn’t get it. He thought she might be joking so he didn’t answer right
away. Watching him closely, Dr. Sanchez waited. Is this some kind of test
for my memory, or something else entirely? Still feeling like the doctor
was pulling some kind of trick, John finally answered.
“It’s a
fork. You eat food with it.”
Dr. Sanchez
nodded then took a cell phone out of the bag and waited for his response.
“Cell
phone,” John said, “to call and text people.”
Nodding
again, Dr. Sanchez pulled out another item.
“Keys, to
unlock things with,” he said. How long was this going to go on? “Is this
really necessary?”
Smiling
patiently, Dr. Sanchez said, “Yes, it is. I needed to make sure your functional
memory from before the accident is still intact.”
“My what?”
he asked. Gretchen seemed to be wondering the same thing.
“Functional
memory is separate from the types of memories your brain creates for people,
places, and events. Functional memory is information your brain has memorized
to allow you to move through your day,” she explained. “It is extremely rare
that a person would lose functional memory from trauma. We have enough work to
do without having to worry about that as well.”
That was
incredible. John hadn’t even thought about the possibility of losing memories
of what things were or even how to talk. Waking up to find yourself in a world
he didn’t even recognize would have been ten times more terrifying than losing
only his personal memories. There was at least one thing that hadn’t been
ruined by the situation. John wasn't sure that counted as a silver lining to
this storm cloud, but he was willing to take it.
Dr. Sanchez
ran him through a few more tests before putting the chart down and closing it.
“So, my official diagnosis is that you have retrograde amnesia. Usually amnesia
is not quite as severe as this, the memory loss is normally confined to the
events immediately before and/or after the injury, but the injuries to your
brain were severe enough that this is not wholly unexpected.”
“How long
will this last?” John asked.
Smile still
on her face, she said, “Unfortunately, I don’t know.”
John felt
his jaw tighten at her response. She wasn't trying to be flippant. She was just
being honest. Trying to make himself remember that wasn’t easy. He wanted
answers.
“What do
you mean you don’t know,” Gretchen asked politely.
Dr. Sanchez
turned her gaze away from me for the first time and spoke to Gretchen. “One of
the most important things I’ve learned while studying the brain is just how
little we really know about it. We can do MRIs and EGGs and study what we see,
but we really can’t tell anyone why the brain does what it does sometimes.”
Turning
back to me, she continued. “You may regain your memories tomorrow, or they may
never return. There is no way for me to know which it will be. Often, amnesia
lasts only a few days or weeks, but with the severity of your injuries, it may
last longer. It may last indefinitely. Generally, if a person’s memories do not
return within a year of the trauma, they will not return.”
So much for
answers. Dr. Sanchez’s matronly sweetness had lulled John into the belief that
she was going to be able to help him. His head fell back to the pillow in
defeat. “What do I do now?” he said quietly. He wasn’t really talking to the
doctor, but she answered anyway.
“Well,
there really isn’t any way to treat amnesia,” she said. “The best thing to do
at this point is simply continue your life as normally as possible.”
John wanted
to scream at her, tell her how stupid that idea was, argue that he had no life
to continue with in the first place, but Gretchen’s reassuring grip on his hand
kept his anger back. That was keeping
Learning to Kill: Stories