Falling in Love in New York (4 page)

“Claire?” Abby’s eyes widened. “Mum it’s only a tiny bump in the head; why would you bother her with something like that?” Clearly her mother thought this was a much bigger deal than it really was, she realised, her hard racing once more.

But why? Had the doctors told Teresa more than they’d told her? While her mum was a bit of a worrier normally, there was no denying that she now seemed troubled by something, something more than just a bump on the head? “Mum? What is it?” she asked fearfully. “Is there something else going on here? Something I don’t know about?”

“Of course not,” Teresa reassured her. “And I wouldn’t have said anything at all to Claire only she phoned while I was leaving for the hospital, so I naturally enough I told her.”

“Oh, OK.” Abby’s relief was palpable. God, all this stuff was making her neurotic!

“So how’s the patient?” came a voice from what looked like a colossal walking bunch of flowers, before Caroline’s smiling face eventually peeped out from behind it.

“I’m grand,” Abby replied, unsettled by all this fuss. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Well, that’s a nice way to greet your favourite sister!” Caroline grinned, reaching across to give her a peck on the cheek. “I’m here to see you, and of course to give you these.”

She set down the humongous bunch of flowers that by Abby’s reckoning looked to be about five foot high, just slightly shorter than Caroline herself. “Thanks, they’re gorgeous, but there’s really no need.”

“I know, but while you’re here we might as well make the place a little less dreary. Oh, and I brought some smellies too,” she added, taking out a couple of travel-sized Clarins bottles from her bag along with a bottle of Chanel No 5. Abby shook her head as her sister duly set about spraying the bed linen. She truly
did
live on a different planet to most other people!

“So,” Caroline said then, once Abby had convinced yet another person that she was feeling fine, “Mum was just about to tell you about Claire, weren’t you?” she said glancing at Teresa.

Her mother wrung her hands. “Well, I’m not sure if now is the right time to say it, what with you being in hospital and all–”

“What about her?” Abby asked.

“Well, as I said, I was talking to her on the phone earlier and … well, she had some good news.”

“Really? What?”

“Well, it turns out she’s pregnant,” Teresa finished awkwardly, and Abby knew immediately that her mother felt guilty about the timing and even more guilty for being so happy about one daughter’s fortune while another was experiencing definite
mis
fortune. But there was little need for her to worry.

“That’s amazing news!” she gasped, thrilled for her older sister.

“Isn’t it just?” Caroline agreed smiling.

“So, how far along is she?”

“Six months believe it or not,” her sister informed her before Teresa could reply.

Now Abby was even more shocked. “
Six
months? And she’s only telling us now?” Although maybe her sister was nervous about broadcasting her happy news until she knew for sure that everything was OK–people sometimes did that. Still six months seemed excessive for something like …

Then Abby thought of something. “But how come she never said anything the other day?” she wondered out loud. “When she phoned to wish Mum a happy birthday?”

The others exchanged a glance. “Well, she probably didn’t want to take away from or overshadow Mum’s celebrations,” Caroline suggested. “You know what Claire’s like.”

Abby did, although she really couldn’t understand how her sister could have withheld such amazing news for so long. She was ecstatic for her though, and she’d definitely have to give her a call now. Or at least, whenever she got out of this place…

“Anyway, are you sure you’re OK?” Caroline asked her again. “Although, I have to admit you look pretty good to me.”

“I’m absolutely fine,” Abby reiterated for the umpteenth time that day. “I think they’re making a huge fuss over nothing keeping me in here–not to mention wasting a bed on someone who
clearly
has nothing wrong with them.”

But the shadow that crossed Teresa’s face when she said this suggested to Abby that her mother didn’t share her optimism.

“I’m afraid there is indeed evidence of damage,” Doctor Moroney said, his tone sombre.

It was two days since the accident and Abby and her mother had been called to the neurologist’s office for the results of her CT scan. As the nurse wheeled her inside on the hospital wheelchair, she noticed various skull-shaped images displayed on some piece of medical apparatus behind him.

“What kind of damage?” she asked croakily. “Where?” A stupid question seeing as they were here to discuss the results of a CT scan on her
brain
. But perhaps stupid questions were a symptom of the damage?

“The blow was a severe one, and it caused some damage to your left temporal lobe– there under your temple, exactly where you were hit,” he said, pointing to the relevant location on the scan of Abby’s brain. She couldn’t really see anything out of the ordinary, but then again, why would she? Like most people, she wasn’t exactly familiar with the inside of her own brain.

Still she nodded wordlessly, and waited for him to continue.

“Well, I’ll try not to get too technical, but just to give you an idea of what we’re dealing with, the temporal lobe houses the hippocampus, which makes up part of the limbic system–the region of your brain responsible for emotion and motivation.”

He spoke in a monotone voice that reminded Abby of the bored way the air hostesses had gone through the safety information on that first plane trip she’d taken. Fair enough if he had to repeat the information time and time again to different people but this was her first time hearing it, so couldn’t he at least try and
sound
someway interested?

“But what does this mean?” she asked, glancing at Teresa for her reaction. But strangely, the calm way in which her mother was taking the news suggested to Abby that her mother had already suspected there would be some repercussions. “How will this damage to the hippocampus or whatever it’s called affect me?”

“Take it easy love,” Teresa said, reacting to the panic in her voice. “Best to just wait and let the doctor explain everything.”

Doctor Moroney breathed out deeply, and sat on the edge on his desk.

“Abby, when people develop Alzheimer’s, the hippocampus is usually the first region of the brain to suffer damage.”

An intense range of emotions attacked her all at once. “Alzheimer’s?” she gasped. “You’re telling me I have Alzheimer’s?”

The doctor shook his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not saying that at all. All we know is that there’s damage to the hippocampus, and that this will have an effect on you long-term.” And although the consultant tried his best to try and sound offhand and even upbeat, there was no mistaking his grave demeanour.

“Abby, when we got these scans back, we weren’t entirely sure what to make of them, so we forwarded the file to the a neurologist in the US, a Doctor Franklin. He’s one of the highest ranking neurologists in his field, particularly in the area of hippocampus injury.”

Abby’s hands grasped the edge of the chair, and again she wished the doctor would just say what he had to say. This Doctor Franklin could be a high-ranking fire-eater for all she knew, or cared!

“Anyway, I’m glad we did send the scans, because as it turns out, he noticed something that we didn’t–something curious.”

“Like what?” Abby’s gaze was drawn once again to the light-box displaying the scans.

“See here?” the doctor indicated a tiny blur just to the left of the injury he’d shown her before. “It indicates some additional trauma–older trauma. Now, we’ve checked your medical records, and there’s no sign of you presenting or being treated here for any such head wound in recent years. Any idea what it is, or when it might have occurred?”

“No idea at all,” Abby replied, unable to recall such a thing. She glanced at her mother who seemed just as clueless.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” The doctor seemed to be watching her closely, almost as if he expected her to come up with an explanation.

“Well, our concerns are–or rather Doctor Franklin’s concerns are–that this older trauma which occurred in the same vicinity as the new one, could very well have a bearing on how this newer injury manifests itself.  

“What does that mean?” Teresa asked.

The doctor looked directly at Abby. “Well, the only thing we can be absolutely sure of is that your long-term memory will suffer.”

She felt her heart rate speed up. “Suffer in what way?”

“Well, as I said, it’s difficult to explain, but to try and make you understand how the hippocampus works let me use an analogy. Think of the hippocampus as a bridge. On one side, you have all your long term memories, and on the other your short-term memories. Now, when your brain creates a new memory–a short term one–it needs to pass over the bridge into your long-term memory in order for you to retain it, and recall it whenever you need to. Are you with me so far?”

Abby nodded.

“But this most recent trauma has damaged the bridge, put a crack in it as such. So when new memories want to cross to the long-term side, they need to get across the crack. Some of them however may fall in.”

Her eyes widened. “Fall in? Fall in where?”

“As I said, this is purely for explanatory purposes it isn’t intended as scientific fact,” the doctor said, a little impatiently. “What I’m trying to illustrate is that some of your memories may not end up on the other side or if they do, you might have trouble getting them back ie recalling them. Which means that while you can easily form new memories and send them across the bridge, we have no way of knowing what you’ll be able to get back.”

Abby stared at the scans, unable to take this in. She had a mental picture of an old stone bridge with a huge crack in it, and all her memories falling through it.

“But what has the older injury got to do with this?” Teresa asked. “Will it make things worse or …?”

“No, the newer injury is really the root of the problem, but the older one may yet have a part to play. We’re just not sure at the moment. Again, there are no certainties when it comes to the human brain. I really wish there were.” The doctor walked round to his desk, and opened the drawer. “I’m discharging you tomorrow, but from here on in what I need is for you to monitor yourself over the next couple of days and weeks, let us know if you notice anything out of the ordinary, any temporary blackouts things like that.”

A rod of panic travelled through Abby. “What?” she cried terrified. “I could have Alzheimer’s and you want to just send me home!”

Not that she had much of a clue about the disease other than what she’d learned from TV and books and such-like, but right then Abby couldn’t help but picture herself standing in the local shop dressed in her nightclothes, confused and wondering how she got there–things like that. And seeing as she lived alone, there would be no one around to keep an eye on her, no one to prevent her doing things like that, no one to help her…

The doctor quickly moved to appease her fears.

“Abby, as I said, that really isn’t the case. Yes, you will almost certainly suffer some form of memory … displacement … shall we say, but nothing as serious as Alzheimer’s. While can see the damage to the hippocampus on the scans, we can’t really tell how severe that damage is, or if it’s progressive. That’s the thing about the brain, Abby–it’s the most complex part of the body, and yet still the part that we know the least about.”

He handed her a card. “You remember the doctor that came to see you the first day, Doctor O’Neill? She may have already told you that she’s a neuropsychologist, specialising in TBI–Traumatic Brain Injury. She’ll help you make sense of the day-to-day impact of all of this in a way we can’t, and also, she’ll be able to monitor any changes that may occur from now on. You haven’t noticed anything different yet?”

“Definitely not. I’m tired and I’ve been getting some headaches but …”

“Very common following TBI,” Morrison said, nodding sagely. “Just keep an close eye on yourself for the next while, until I talk to you again, OK?”

Abby took the card he gave her and read the details on it. She didn’t like the idea of having to go and consult with yet another person, another doctor who would have an opinion on what might happen next and how she should deal with it.

She just couldn’t believe this; as far as she was concerned, she felt fine! Yes, there was a little bit of pressure in her head, and she was depressed about having to miss work and having to stay on in the hospital, but other than that she felt perfectly normal.

But hadn’t the doctor already admitted that he and that so-called American ‘expert’ were only second-guessing what might or might not happen? Chances were they were overanalysing the extent of this injury, and she could very well turn out to be fine.

“But at the same time, there might be nothing at all wrong with me?” she asked, pleading with him to give her at least a semblance of hope. “I mean, none of this might happen at all, right?”

“Perhaps so, but it’s unlikely …” the doctor fudged, and Abby didn’t like the grim set of his jaw, nor the very obvious doubt in his eyes.