The Fourth Notebook

52

Emma POV
1/6/2015
I was quietly changing James gauze on his arm. He refused to let me put aniseptic on it but allowed me to wrap a thin layer of gauze around the cuts. He was oblivious to the fact that I had put neosporin on the wrap itself. I finshed the wrap and helped him put on his sweatshirt. We sat on his bed and engaged in our favorite game, "Watch the Dust Mites Spin in the Air". The gray skies cast shadows with their white light, but did not warm us. The nurse with the blond hair, Patricia, knocked on the door.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked.
"No," I answered, sitting up now.
"Some one would like to speak to you, follow me."
I kissed his pale cheek and left James sleeping on his bed. The nurse directed me in to one of the offices behind the closed doors. I had never been in any of them. I found myself sitting in an uncomfortable plastic couch in front of a metal desk. A doctor walked in the door behind me and sat in his desk, paying no attention to me. He clicked on his computer and mumbled to himself until I coughed to get his attention.
"Oh!" He said, "I wasn't expecting you for another minute."
"I'm sorry," I apologized.
"No, no. Better to have you in here early. I have been doing some research on your case and I think we may have a solution to your amnesia. He then went into a long speech that I won't bore you with. He said that my hypo-campus was damaged and to restore it and retrieve the memories I had lost they could fix it with surgery. He said that he would need my reply in three days so that they could call in a more experienced doctor from New York.
I woke up James and explained the process to him. He didn't sound too enthusiastic, "I don't know, Emma. It sounds... Complicated."
"I'll think about it."