Part 18 Loss of memory

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"No, none of this makes any sense to me. I've no recollection of who he is," I grumble, searching my memories. My jumbled thoughts don't make it any easier.

Patting my fidgeting fingers, mum reassures me kindly. "Cassy, it can't be helped. Take your time to recall. Your body and mind needs some time to mend. It'll come back in no time at all, not to worry. After all, you've been bedridden in coma for months, nearly a year. It's expected that you'll wake up groggy with foggy memory".

Soon after, my mum left. Too tired to keep my eyes open, I drift off to sleep again.

Muting my footfalls, I gaze upon Cassy's sleeping form. If the nurses had not informed me this morning that Cassy has woken up from her coma, I wouldn't have believed it. She doesn't look any different from her coma state. Her sleeping face reminds me of the first time we met. She was sleeping like this too, but in a better scenic setting.

Her long eyelashes rest peacefully on her rosy cheeks. It appears healthier than the pale ashen complexion in the first few months after her accident. Her lips are now red instead of the purple bloodless tint while she's in a coma. The enormous dark bruises are long gone, replaced by smaller bruises which are fast fading. I hope she's not in pain from the bruises, and more importantly suffering from her healing stitches and scars from the surgery. She'll have to bear with the ugly sight as the stitches and scars will only come off and heal in another few months.

Inspecting her critically from head to toe with a doctor's eye, I am pleased to note that she's recovering well. Remembering how restless she can be, she'll be bored out of her mind since she won't be able to leave her bed any time soon due to her previously shattered and broken bones. I literally had to sew her up like the legendary Frankenstein monster – patching up the ruptured organs, re-assembling the broken bones, re-attaching the torn tissues, ligaments and muscles. Lastly, grafting skin to smooth over the scars.

Consecutive multiple sessions of surgery are back-breaking and taxing. It is with no small amount of pride that I could save her life and make her whole again. My training and powers have paid off. Making her as beautiful as before would come much later, after she has fully recovered. I'm proud that with my skills, she won't have much scars to worry about.

The worrisome part would be her temporary immobility. The metal pins inserted into her bones to hold the bones together and straighten them will be removed soon. She'll have to attend a lengthy period of physiotherapy to walk properly again. Smiling wryly, I wonder if she'll yell at her physiotherapists if they don't allow her to overdo her rehabilitation. Cassy's the impatient type, expecting to run after only a few sessions.

Satisfied with her recuperation progress, I place the flowers in a vase next to her bed and left quietly.

Moaning in discomfort, I stretch my arms as I wake. I have no idea how long I've slept, except that I feel well rested and not so sore anymore. A bright splash of color enters my sight. My blurry eyes focusing on the object, I realize they're lilies - my favorite flower.

A nurse enters the room with a medical chart. "Oh," a look of surprise as she sees that I'm awake, "I'm glad you're up now. I'll be running some routine tests on you".

Coming next to me, she whips out a penlight and shines into my eyes. Observing my squinty eyes, she seems pleased with the results. Raising my arms, she observes and asks if there's discomfort. Next, she conducts a series of tests on my body parts, checks on my heartbeat monitor and IV drips. Finished, she nods her head approvingly and announces that I'm coming along nicely.

Gee, thanks. I already know I'm alive. Thank you anyway for reminding me.

Stroking the lily petals, she murmurs, "It seems Dr Karalianus has been here. These flowers are from him. How nice of him to visit you daily".

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