i wake up in the hospital surrounded by people i dont know.
they tell me my name, age, and occupation. they tell me i was in an accident. they go around the room introducing themselves one by one-- names and how they know me. they are very kind. understanding.
in the morning there are less people there. not for any bad reason. they just had work or school, you know how it is. i think i might know that feeling, too.
i can still write my signature because of muscle memory. i can still unlock my phone, but the screen hurts my hand from the cracks. i have a tremor i didnt have before.
the doctor says i should recover my memories with time.
i wake up in the hospital with a small group around the bed. i dont know them.
they tell me their names and how i (should) know them. they sound a little desperate. they dont tell me why im here until the doctor comes in to explain. apparently i was in an accident, but the memories should come back with time.
the woman who says she's my wife looks at him, scared. i can tell she knows me, and i try to know her.
i try to follow along and fit into the place i used to fill, but everything i do is wrong. i can tell from their reactions. even my voice isnt right. i look down at my hands. theyre completely still in my lap.
in the morning i am asked what i remember. i tell them that i woke up yesterday with a lot more people there. they stop me.
that cant be right. what did i do yesterday?
i ask the doctor about my tremor. he says he didnt notice it yesterday, and i say it was there the day before. he asks if im sure i remember. i doubt myself even though i know im right.
my wife puts a hand on my shoulder, but she wont look me in the eye.
more people were here yesterday last time. im sure of it. i ask the woman who calls herself my wife, and she sounds annoyed when she responds. her mother had to leave. our friends couldnt stay. et cetera, et cetera. so now its just me and her (and the doctor, of course.)
the doctor sounds unbothered by my questions, but i vow to try to ask them when she isnt in the room.
she comes back with a bottle of orange juice. my favorite, she says. im not really a fan.
we got into a fight at some point. i dont remember what it was about, but it was bad enough that one of the machines im hooked up to started going off. or so i assume, because a nurse came in to check on me. he said he was surprised my heartrate went back to normal so quickly. i blink at him. what were we fighting about, anyway?
i asked for some orange juice.
a psychologist is brought in to see if i am mentally sound. i still dont remember the accident, but apparently i dont need to in order to be released.
my wife brings up the strange gaps in memory. inconsistent is the word she uses. the psychologist frowns as she explains.
she goes through the events in order, which helps me piece things together some myself. she talks about a tremor.
"your hand's been shaking. again, its not consistent. just like your tastes." i am reminded that im supposed to like orange juice.
she sounds exhausted. i wish that i could help her more.
the psychologist is going to stick around to observe me for the next few days.
this will be real confusing when i cant remember, i think.
my wife has work today, so its just me in here.
the doctor is accompanied by a woman with a notepad. maybe a student? no, she looks too confident. the doctor notes my tremor, and the other person writes it down.
they ask me questions back and forth. stuff like my medical history, where my family is from, what i do for work. i can answer bits and pieces, but i dont really deal with the big stuff, i explain. i sit in the morning and drink some juice while birds sing.
the notepad woman asks me what kind of juice i like. how is that relevant? still, i answer.
its 3am but i feel like i just woke up. i havent been sleeping well. i wasnt sleeping a minute ago. i dont know where this energy came from. i scroll on my phone so im not completely bored.
the doctor comes in after some nebulous amount of time and is surprised to see me awake. he asks if ive been having trouble sleeping.
i dont think i have. maybe. i dont know. i bet youre tired of hearing that.
he chuckles and assures me he doesnt mind.
fine, i say. no tremor, still. did i have one yesterday? i mean, earlier today.
"yes you did," he says. "its strange. im still not sure whats causing it."
maybe its me. what if this is all just me looking for attention? an accident wasnt enough-- maybe i wanted to keep getting help? feeling special?
"do you feel special right now?"
i feel like a freak. my wife isnt even here. i cant remember her name. still, i feel safer when shes here.
"if you were doing it for attention i think you would have stopped after your friends and family left."
the doctor leaves and i shut my eyes. i grow and shrink in loops in my mind. i still cant sleep.
my wife is here again today, and so is the notepad woman. psychologist. she asks me how im feeling.
im overwhelmingly neutral, but that doesnt feel like an answer, so i say im fine.
she says the doctor talked to me last night about feeling upset about this whole thing, which is very normal.
i say i dont remember that, and i look down at my shaking hands. i do not look at my wife, and she is silent. it feels unfair that she should be distancing herself from me for this. my cheeks get hot as i get angry, and i can hear my heartrate speed up on the monitor.
"are you alright?" the psychologist asks.
i want to punch something, but instead i say im tired and she should go.
only after the psychologist leaves the room does my wife look at me. she has worry lines on her forehead.
"i love you, you know that?"
she peels back a layer of hardened shell from my heart, and the soft flesh comes out from underneath. i hug her.
i say im scared, and she rubs my back in slow circles. something in me knows the other guy would be upset he wont remember this.
im awake at night again, but this time my wife was able to stay. i watch her sleep on the shitty chair in the corner. she's curled up in a ball. her breath is slow and deep.
for now, i am okay. i watch her until i cant keep my eyes open.
the psychologist has a theory about whats wrong with me, but she says it wouldnt be a new thing. it would have to have existed beforehand. she asks my wife if she ever noticed anything before the accident.
"i dont think so... maybe? he could be indecisive, but nothing like this."
"were there any problems with his memory? forgetting important dates or acquaintances?"
"well hes never been good with names or faces. or dates, either." she chuckles. "his ability to plan things is pretty abysmal."
the psychologist nods like she is finalizing a decision. i cant think of the word, but its like a decision, or a prescription, but its telling you what you have. she says i have dissociative identity disorder. diagnosis is the word. even when its small, something just feels right when i remember things. its like a light shining through gray sky.
i think i have always been like this, but childhood is a thing i remember like i remember trivia. it didnt happen to me, but i know what ive been told. as its described, this seems normal for the condition.
my wife seems scared still, but im happy to have a word for it. it doesnt feel like ive got it situated quite right over my understanding of myself, but i trust itll get there with time. i hope the other me is as receptive to all this.
im allowed to go home now. i dont know what happened exactly, but something was apparently solved. my wife grips my hand. is she worried i'll fly away? get into another accident? i ask her if shes okay.
she looks at me, and her eyes say "i dont know if i know you." her mouth says "i'm okay."
i answer her eyes. get to know me while i get to know you.
