Tell me The Truth

Chapter 2: Anger

Tell me the Truth

Chapter 2

~ Anger ~

It had been two weeks since Isabelle woke up for the first time after being in an induced coma for several weeks. The past days hadn't been easy. She'd gotten physical therapy daily to recover and build up muscle mass, she'd seen a therapist several times a week to train her cognitive abilities and learn how to deal with memory loss, and she'd undergone several tests to make sure she was healing properly. Not an hour had gone by that she wasn't confronted with her new, weakened body and brain damage.

She felt tired constantly, often got dizzy, had to watch what she ate or she'd get nauseous, and had a hard time concentrating on pretty much anything. Combined with the constant headaches, she felt weak and irritated. No matter how hard she worked, she barely seemed to make any progress and while the doctors kept telling her that her body simply needed time, Isabelle was running out of patience. She wanted to go home, wanted to figure out how to start living again and actually get to know her son.

Isabelle had seen Noah only four times since she'd woken up. Doctor's orders. They told Chad that she had to recover first and grow stronger before she could handle seeing her son. Bullshit. Isabelle was sick and tired of everyone making decisions for her. She was a grown woman, for god's sake, and they kept treating her like a child in need of supervision. Even when she went to the bathroom, they advised her to call for a nurse in case she got dizzy and fell. Like that was going to happen. Isabelle was far too proud to call for help every time she got out of bed. She wasn't an invalid. 

"I've got some good news for you, Isabelle," the doctor stated, smiling down at her.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow and waited, pretty sure she was going to be disappointed yet again. The past several times the doctor had told her he had good news, it was to tell her that her recovery was going well. Yet every time she asked him when she could return home, he'd repeated that she was not ready and needed to be patient. Her patience had officially run out.

When she didn't reply, the doctor simply smirked. "You're allowed to go home this afternoon."

Mouth falling open, Isabelle stared at him in shock. Did she hear that right? "I didn't want to get your hopes up in case something came up, but I discussed your current condition with your husband and we both feel that you're ready to return home. He had to make a few arrangements, like make sure there's a hospital bed downstairs and a nurse available to check in on you occasionally, but since all of that is settled, I feel confident that you'll be in good hands. In case something does come up, you suddenly feel more tired or are in any pain, you should immediately return to the hospital to get checked out."

"I..."

"Take it easy, don't push yourself too hard, and I'm sure you'll be fine. You're a true miracle, Isabelle. We never expected you to recover this fast or well."

"But I still don't remember anything." How could her recovery be going well if she still had no recollection of the past nine years of her life? The therapist had told her not to push herself to remember, to simply be patient and wait for her brain to rouse the memories on its own. But Isabelle was done being patient. She wanted to remember, wanted to know what had happened to her.

"Isabelle," the doctor spoke softly, his eyes kind, "As I've told you before, retrograde amnesia is something that one recovers from over time, so it may be that you will recover some or all of the lost memories of the time prior to the accident. However, it can be that the memory of the time leading up to the event cannot be recovered, perhaps because the accident interrupted the transfer of information from short-term to long-term memory."