Page 12 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

“So,” Brenda asked in a gossipy tone. “How are you friends with him?”

It was an odd question.

Any other time and she might have noticed that. Today, however, she felt her confusion mix with a bitter disappointment that she was left alone to deal with this mess.

So much for her rescuing hero.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you friends with Logan Steel? My daughter’s going to die when she hears her favorite movie star was here, and I got to speak to him! She absolutely ADORES him!”

* * *

She was savedfrom answering by the appearance of the doctor, a man in his fifties. Smiling, and with an air of kindness about him, he entered, followed by a team of helpers, each of them sporting caring expressions.

His name was Dr. Lewis, and he was a neurology specialist.

Promising that she was in safe hands, he explained that they would look her over to build an overall picture, before getting into the nitty gritty of what they think had happened.

They moved her to a private room and closed the blinds. She took off her dress and felt a moment of panic that clawed at her throat.

The dress was the only real thing that connected her to her past. It was her only physical link to the woman she had been before the memory loss, and to have it taken away from her like this, felt like the only security she knew was being torn away.

As if the nurse knew the turmoil that was going on inside, she patted her hand, a calm smile on her lips. The nurse had gray streaks in her hair that was pulled back into a neat bun. There wasn’t a single strand that was out of place. She wasn’t sure why, but that simple fact lessened some of the panic.

She was in capable hands.

The nurse helped her into a hospital gown. Her heart was listened to. Numerous X-rays performed. Blood was drawn. DNA taken. Wounds were cleaned, disinfected, then covered over with Band-Aids.

Bundled from one room to another in a whirlwind of examinations, there wasn’t time to think about Brenda’s comment, and whether the woman knew what she had been talking about. After several hours of being examined from head to toe, Logan was pushed firmly from her mind.

After deciding she wasn’t in any imminent danger, Dr. Lewis sat her down as someone brought a tray of food. Though the bed was comfortable, she found she couldn’t lean back against it. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew what the prognosis was.

Her tongue flicked out to lick her dry, chapped lips. Feeling thirsty again — she’d already drunk what seemed like a gallon of water, but her thirst could not be quenched — she reached for the plastic tumbler of water that had come with her food.

Dr. Lewis smiled patiently at her, brown eyes crinkling with patience. Folding his hands in his lap, he waited for her to take several sips before speaking.

“I know this must be terrible for you, but other than a nasty bump on your head, and the lacerations which were most probably caused by bumping into some rocks while you were in the water, you are clinically well.”

“Apart from the amnesia,” she added.

“Well, there is that,” he admitted. “It seems you hit your head, which has caused you to lose your memories. Now, in many cases of post-traumatic amnesia, the mind heals itself in time and you can gain most, if not all of your memory back. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to give you any indication of what you should expect until we see how long your amnesia lasts.”

“I don’t understand, you can’t just give me an estimation?” She heard the desperation in her voice and hated herself for it. Hated how weak she sounded.

“Sadly, no. The severity of your amnesia can only be determined by its duration. For example, if you only lost your memory for up to an hour, it would be considered very mild with an expected full recovery. You might experience a few minor headaches and some dizziness, but that is all. Up to seven days, however, the injury would be deemed severe and recovery could take weeks to months, and you might find that you were less capable than you were before the injury.”

“What does that mean, less capable?”

“There can be some cognitive and attentional deficits. After a trauma like this, some patients struggle with concentration, for example, or they have trouble communicating things verbally.”

“What if it’s longer? What if I have it for a month or more?” she asked.

Dr. Lewis smiled again and patted her hand.

“Let’s not worry about that, shall we? Why don’t we wait and see what happens? No point worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.“

“That bad, huh?” she replied, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach.

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