Page 32 of Howl For Me
“You see this part of your brain?” Dr. Simpson, the neurologist, pointed to the scan on the computer screen.
Damara held on to her mother’s hand and nodded. She swallowed hard, waiting for his expert opinion. They’d driven two hours to the city to see Dr. Simpson. He’d come highly recommended since his specialty was patients like her.
“Is that good?” she asked, taking in the picture of her brain. She really didn’t know what she was looking at but prayed that was normal.
“Well, first off, amnesia is quite rare,” he began.
Damara glanced at her mother and found her eyes just as wide as hers.
“Really?” she gasped, surprised.
“Really.” Dr. Simpson nodded. “It’s actually made more popular in movies and books. But from what you are suffering from, I’d say it was the real deal.”
“I would say so. I’ve lived with it for five years, so I know it’s real.” Damara sniffed.
“You’ll get your memory back. I just know it,” her mother murmured, patting the top of her hand before they turned back to the physician sitting in front of his computer screen.
“We call your form of memory loss ‘retrograde amnesia’. It is where a person cannot remember anything before the trauma, but are able to create new memories,” he explained.
Before she’d returned home, she’d hadn’t remembered a thing before the crash. Maybe this wasn’t what was wrong with her.
“This is the area where your long-term memories are stored. Let me show you someone who doesn’t suffer from amnesia.”
He typed in a few commands, and a similar picture pulled up, and she could see a slight difference.
“There’s not much difference,” she noted.
“No, there isn’t. Which is good and bad. Good in the way that I don’t see anything on this scan that would suggest that you have a disease that could be causing your memory loss. The downside is that there isn’t anything on here to explain your memory loss.”
“So the scan didn’t really help?” Damara asked, feeling somewhat defeated.
“To be truthful, I’d have to see whatever scans you had around the time of your trauma to be able to compare.”
“I can tell you where I was admitted. I think I had every test and scan known to man.” It wasn’t the news she wanted to hear, but she would take that there were no disease processes causing her memory loss.
A knock at the door gained their attention.
“Enter,” Dr. Simpson called out.
The door slowly opened, and Gavin peeked his head inside. “Is it okay if I come in?”
His deep baritone voice sent a shiver down Damara’s spine. Her heart rate increased with the intensity of his gaze.
“Please, I’m just about done here.” Dr. Simpson stood from his chair and offered his hand.
Damara smiled, taking it.
Gavin pushed the door open entirely and stepped into the room, moving toward Damara’s side.
“It was nice to meet you, Damara. Give the information to my nurse, and she’ll get the records for me.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Elizabeth stood from her seat and took the doctor’s hand in hers. “Bless you, Doctor. Please figure out what is wrong with my baby girl.”
“I will do my best, ma’am.” Dr. Simpson smiled, patting her mother’s hand.
Gavin’s presence filled the room, distracting Damara from the conversation between the physician and her mother. The already small room seemed minute in comparison with his large frame standing next to her. She regarded him, and their eyes connected. The look of concern on his face took her breath away. He rested his hand on her shoulder, sending comforting waves into her.
“Let me go find Irvin,” Elizabeth muttered. “I’m sure that husband of mine is in the cafeteria getting something he doesn’t need.”
