"Thirsty," I said.
"I bet."
"Hungry.”
"That's a good sign. But you have to go slow. You haven't had solid food in a while. We’ll need to start you off easy until your digestive system grows accustomed." She paused. "What's the last thing you remember?"
I thought hard for a moment, trying to pull the memories out of the black box in my brain, but I couldn't.
It was just emptiness.
It was almost painful trying to think about it. Then I realized the side of my skull was bandaged and throbbing.
"I can't remember,” I said.
"That's okay. Don't worry about that. It's very common. People often block out traumatic moments."
This was more than a block of a traumatic moment. I couldn't remember anything. It was like I had no existence prior to this moment. I couldn't remember my childhood, my parents, my best friends, nothing. The only reason I knew my name was because the man beside my bed called me by it. Even then, I had to rely on the fact that he actually knew who the hell I was. He could have been making it up, for all I knew.
Today was like my birthday. The first day of my new existence.
"I'm Nancy," the nurse said. "I've been taking care of you for almost a week now."
"A week?"
"You've been in dreamland for a while.”
I tried to move my arm, but the restraint stopped me.
“We didn’t want you pulling out your feeding tube,” she said in a compassionate voice.
The tube wasn’t comfortable. I wanted it out. Now!
“Do you know where you are?"
I shook my head.
It hurt to shake my head.
"You’re in the Pineapple Bay Hospital in a trauma unit. You suffered a gunshot wound to the head. It's a miracle you're still alive. Somebody was looking out for you."
"If somebody was looking out for me, I don't think I'd have been shot in the first place."
Nancy laughed.
The man by my bedside kept squeezing my hand.
“If you promise not to pull out your feeding tube, I’ll remove the restraints.”
I nodded.
She released the leather straps lined with lambswool.
I felt liberated.
"I'm gonna ask you a series of basic questions. Don’t stress about it. If you don’t know the answers, that’s fine.”
I nodded again.
