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Nothing is More Painful Part 2

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When I woke up I was still in the hospital which shattered all hope that it had all been a dream. It was actually happening. I had amnesia. Somehow my life had been set to fast-forward 6 years and then abruptly stopped in the present. Neither of my parents realized that I was awake yet and I caught the tail ends of their conversation. “Michael, we need to do this gently. If we overload her with the things she can’t remember she will become overwhelmed.” My mother had tears in her eyes. I could tell she was stressed out. She always bit her nails when she was stressed and at this particular moment she was gnawing on her index fingernail.
“I understand that Barbara, but she has a right to know about her own life. She deserves to hear about how wonderful her life is.” My dad stopped, upset. “I just don’t think we should do this now. Give it time; let her ask her own questions.” I couldn’t listen to it anymore. I rustled around in med announcing my awareness of the situation.
“How do you feel honey?” my mom asked sitting down on my bed next to me. “Confused,” I stated. “You can ask us any questions about your life you want.” I looked at my parents for a moment. “I have a husband?” I could barely ask. My parents exchanged glances. “You do.” My mom reassured. Tears slipped from my eyes. “Is he a good man?” I asked my father. With tear filled eyes he replied “I couldn’t haven’t given you away to anyone more worthy.” I smiled a small smile. Knowing that my father approved made it ever so slightly more bearable. “Do we have children together?” “No,” my mother stated gently.
We talked over some simple things for the next few hours. The doctor took me away at one point to perform memory tests. Later that week, the doctor gave us the test results. “It’s hard to tell; this is one of the most interesting cases I have ever seen. You may make a full recovery, or may never remember a thing. I know that’s not the news you want to hear but it’s the only news I have.” I couldn’t help but burst into tears.
“Is there anything we can do?” My mother asked. “Try to jog her memory. Show her pictures, take her to places she often went, and maybe even reenact events that happened. I can’t guarantee results but it cant hurt.” With that the doctor left the room. The next few days went by solemnly. Finally my mother walked in the room one night with a shoebox full of pictures. We looked over pictures of the senior prom, graduation, birthday parties, and other random pictures of me over the years. Finally I asked her, “Why don’t you have any pictures of the wedding?” I asked. “I thought maybe that would be a good thing for Ethan to show you. He really wants to see you.” I sat quietly for a moment. “I think I’m ready to see him.”



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