Weeks went on by before we finally made the decision to bring her out of comatose. A day went by before she opened her eyes. She looked at me, trying to comprehend whom I was. Her eyes implored for an explanation.
“Hello there! I’m Dr. Khan, you’re in a hospital, a Good Samaritan brought you in. You had a nasty cut on your head. How are you feeling?” I said.
She tried to speak but I could tell she was too feeble for it. “It’s okay,” I said, “we’ll let you rest, okay?”
She nodded weakly then drifted off to sleep. I went on with my duties for the day but doubled back to bid her goodnight. She looked so peaceful as she slept. Who knows the storm she’s been through. I was back there the next morning. She was already awake when I got there. “Hi! Remember me?” I said cheerfully. She didn’t talk, but I could tell she recognized me. Good sign. For two weeks the routine was the same. She never said a word. It was on the beginning of the third week that she finally said something. A nurse rushed to get me.
“Doctor! Doctor! She talked!” The nurse said enthusiastically.
I rushed over. There she was. I could hardly contain myself. “Hi! …” She cut in before I could finish.
“You’re Dr. Khan,” she said.
“Yes,” I answered cheerfully. “How do you feel?”
“That’s in the normal spectrum,” I said happily. “Can you tell us your name?”
She paused. “My name?”
“I...I…I…” I could see her start to panic.
“No, no…shhhhh…it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” I comforted her. I looked at the nurse. She (the nurse) wrote something down and left.
“What did she write?”
“It’s nothing that should worry you, you’re just having a little trouble remembering your name.”
“Is that normal?”
“All injuries to the head are different, but I can say that amnesia is not uncommon. Don’t worry, we’re going to figure this out.”