Falling in Love in New York (7 page)

Hannah nodded and waited for her to continue.

“So I rang Mum and explained what was happening and told her to turn on the TV, but that was a big mistake really, as straight away she too started worrying about Claire …” She exhaled deeply. “So after managing to calm her down, I told her to phone Claire and then phone me back and let me know that she was OK, which she did.”

“Must have been a relief.”

“It was.” Abby shook her head, the whole episode again reminding her that she really should give her older sister a call. “Then after that, I rang Kieran–my boyfriend at the time–to see if he knew what was happening but I couldn’t get through.” She paused for a moment, and cleared her throat. “After that, I think I went back to work and by then, everyone in the office knew what was happening so we kept the TV on in the background and pretty much saw everything as it happened after that, the chaos in the streets, people jumping out of the buildings, the towers falling …” She bit her lip. “It was so awful… and at one stage, with all the talk about more hijacked planes targeting other locations and possibly some in the UK, I remember thinking that this could really be the start of something big …another major World War or something. I don’t know–there was just something so surreal about the whole thing.”

“I remember thinking the very same thing myself,” the doctor replied sombrely and the two were silent for a couple of moments as each replayed their own recollection of the days’ horrific events.

After a while, Hannah spoke again. “Abby, when I asked you what you remembered about 9/11, the sequence of events you described that first time was your semantic memory of events, a step-by-step account of what is by now common knowledge about that day, the timing of the crash, the fall of the first tower etc. 

However, the second sequence of events–the ones you described just now–was your
emotional
recollection, not just of the event itself but perhaps more importantly how you and your feelings were central to it. This second sequence was much more vivid and much more involving–yes, you couldn’t remember a couple of things, such as the sandwich you made for lunch or why the TV sound was down, but these trivial things were unimportant compared to the enormity of everything else that was happening at the time.

The recollection of your emotional reaction was particularly vivid, you immediately worried about your sister in New York and you very quickly reached out to the people close to you–your mother and your boyfriend. You also outlined the empathy you felt for the people involved, whereas the first time round it was just a flat, emotionless account, almost as if you were reading it from a piece of paper or something.”

“I see.” Abby nodded, now completely understanding what the doctor was saying.

“I’m trying to emphasise the importance of emotion when it comes to memory retention. Semantic memories are
learned
memories whereas I suppose, episodic memories are
experienced
, and often emotionally charged. They’re felt,” she clarified, pointing to her chest.

“I think I understand now.” This was making a hell of a lot more sense now, although Abby was still unsure as to what it all meant in relation to her injury.

The psychologist seemed to read her thoughts. “Abby, because of the complex nature of the brain, and the many millions of neural pathways inside, we still have no
absolute
way of knowing how this injury will affect you long-term. The only thing we can be sure of is that it will–almost without doubt–affect your ability to recall episodic memories.”

Abby’s stomach dropped. “But what about my existing memories?” she asked. “The ones like I just described? They won’t be affected, will they?”

Hannah sighed. “It’s possible but at the same time unlikely. I know that must seem very frustrating to you, but unfortunately that’s just the way it is. And of course, there’s the issue of that older injury that Doctor Franklin found on your scan. This makes things even more complicated because we could be talking about some dual-effect we can’t anticipate.”

“I already told them–I don’t know anything about an old injury,” Abby insisted, frustrated that the only thing any of these medical people were certain about was that they couldn’t be certain of anything! What good was that to her?

“Abby, I know how difficult this must be for you–especially when you haven’t yet spotted any noticeable difference in brain function. But this sort of thing can take time to manifest, which is why we need to keep a close eye on your progress for the next while to see if anything … unusual happens. After an injury like this, incidental memory blips or even blackouts are common, so I need you to keep a very close eye on yourself too. To start with, I suggest you try keeping a diary of your day-to-day experiences–which may help you pinpoint something out of the ordinary.”

“But when will this happen?” Abby cried, distressed at how inevitable all of this seemed. “When will my memory problems start? Will it be now, next week, next year, when?”

Hannah shook her head slowly. “As I said, as of yet we just don’t know for sure. For the moment Abby, we just have to wait and see.”

“How are you feeling, love?” Teresa asked, putting a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits on the table in front of Abby.

It was a weekday afternoon, some three weeks after her release from the hospital, and seeing as she was on enforced leave from work and had plenty of time on her hands, Abby had called over to her Mum’s house for a chat.

“OK,” she said, with a grateful smile. Although of course, this was the furthest thing from the truth. In reality, she didn’t know how she was. Since discovering the nature of her injury and what it might mean, her emotions had swung between anger, distress, fear and absolute denial. But for today at least, she supposed she felt OK.

But the worst part was not knowing. Not knowing when her brain would decide to start ‘losing’ memories, and worse, not knowing what those memories would be. As she would be on medical leave from work for the next few months, she’d spent much of her free time researching her condition on the Internet, an exercise that was proving as confusing as it was futile.

As Hannah kept telling her, there were just too many unknowns when it came to the human brain, and while she now understood somewhat better the workings of her temporal lobe and the dreaded hippocampus, there was no way of knowing when the damage would make itself felt.

“Most of the time, I don’t know what to do with myself,” she confessed to her mother. “I’m so used to having a million and one things to do at work, whereas now I have all this time on my hands.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, there’s probably no harm in that all the same. You were working way too hard before all of this happened, rushing here and there and everywhere–you needed to slow down sometime.”

“I know,” Abby bit her lip. “It was because I was rushing around that this happened in the first place.”

Her mother was silent, obviously unwilling to agree that Abby was responsible for her own misfortune. “Well, it could have been much worse, couldn’t it?” Teresa said. “That falling slate could have killed you. And speaking of which, I was talking to the solicitor yesterday about the insurance.”

Following the accident, the hugely apologetic roofing contractor had been in contact with Abby’s family in relation to a claim. Because the accident had happened on a public road,
Right-On Roofing
was obliged to pay Abby a considerable amount of compensation for her accident. Teresa, who’d agreed to deal with all the paperwork on Abby’s behalf, had learnt that the contractor’s insurance company were currently processing the claim and to the family’s great relief were also liasing with the hospital to cover her medical costs. As there was no issue over liability, she would also be entitled to a once-off lump sum, which
Right-On Roofing’
s company director informed her would be paid as soon as the claim was settled.

“He reckons it should be sorted fairly soon,” Teresa said, referring to her conversation with the solicitor.

“Really?” Abby was taken aback that it was all going so smoothly. Then again, the roofing company was probably anxious to get the whole thing dealt with as soon as possible–just in case the doctors discovered more serious damage in the meantime! But while the company might want to wash their hands of it all quickly, she was surprised at the speed and efficiency of the insurance company. Bureaucracy wasn’t usually so straightforward–something that as an accountant Abby knew only too well. Still, she wasn’t going to complain, if the lump sum did come through relatively quickly then at least she wouldn’t need to worry about lost earnings from work. In addition, she also had her savings to rely on–considerable savings that were supposed to go towards the purchase of her and Kieran’s first home. But seeing as that wasn’t going to happen now….

Her mother seemed hesitant. “Love, I don’t mean to sound negative or I don’t want to upset you or anything, but what if … well, what will you do when the doctors say will happen
does
happen?”

“I don’t know,” Abby answered, swallowing hard. “Dr Moroney tells me that I should be OK, and that my normal day-to-day life shouldn’t be affected all that much other than the odd memory blip here and there, but to be honest, there are too many ‘shoulds’ in there for my liking. But all I know is that I seem absolutely fine so far, and apart from the occasional headache and a bit of tiredness now and then, I haven’t noticed anything different. To be honest, I’m wondering if they’re blowing the whole thing out of proportion.”

“Wouldn’t you think they’d be able to tell you something more concrete at this stage!” her mother harrumphed. “All this ‘wait and see’ stuff is just not fair to anyone. Either they know or they don’t know!” Teresa took a sip of coffee, and Abby noticed that her hands were shaking with anger, or was it fear? Fear that her youngest daughter could realistically end up forgetting everything about her family and the people closest to her?

Because this was something that Abby feared too. After all, it happened to Alzheimer’s patients, didn’t it? But the doctors had reassured her she didn’t have anything like Alzheimer’s, and that it was this so-called episodic memory rather than normal day-to-day working memory that would be affected. But how well did they really know that? According to Hannah, that American specialist knew of only one or two other precedents but as neither had this mysterious ‘second’ injury, they couldn’t really make a comparison.

Abby sighed. What really terrified her was that there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t end up forgetting all the people dearest to her. And to think, she recalled sadly, that she had spent the last year trying her utmost to forget about Kieran. Be careful what you wish for and all that…

“What about that other injury, the older one Doctor Moroney told us about?” her mother asked then. “Do you have any idea at all what that might be?”

Abby shook her head. “None at all. I’ve been racking my brains to try and think of something, some previous circumstance where I might have hit my head or fallen over, but I just can’t think of anything.” She smiled inwardly, thinking about Erin’s take on this.

“It must be drink-related,” her best friend had insisted, while visiting Abby at the hospital. “Drink and stiletto-related.”

Although it had been quite a while since Abby had been drunk enough to fall over, let alone go out on the town in stilettos! Still, as she couldn’t think of any ready explanation, she supposed it was something to consider…

“That’s a very strange one altogether,” Teresa went on. “Especially as they seem to think it could affect this latest one in some way.”

“I know, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about any of it unfortunately. I think I just need to try and get on with my life as normal, otherwise I’ll go out of my mind.” Abby grinned then, realising what she’d just said. “Although I suppose that’s part of the problem in a way.”

Her mother couldn’t help but smile back. “I suppose there’s a part of me that wonders if the doctors can be sure about any of this. You say that they keep saying the brain is so complex that they can’t predict anything for sure. So maybe this long-term memory loss thing mightn’t happen at all. Maybe your brain synapses will recover of their own accord.”

“Maybe.” Abby shared her mother’s frustration with the doctors’ non-committal approach but she knew that it was all she could expect for the moment. And in fairness to Hannah and Doctor Moroney, they genuinely
didn’t
seem to know when or how things would pan out.

Now she took a sip from her coffee mug. “Look, whatever happens, I’ll have to deal with it,” she said, hoping to allay her mother’s worries.

“I really don’t know how you can be so calm about it all though.”

Because I don’t want to worry you,
Abby said silently
.
And she knew that if she got outwardly upset and revealed to her mother just how worried she herself was, it would only make things worse.

As it was she was being particularly careful about putting her mind under any strain at all and of course the medication that the doctor had prescribed her also went some way toward maintaining her Zen-like attitude. But instead of confessing her fears, and worrying her mother even more, she now feigned a carefree shrug – something she’d perfected over the last few months following the break-up.

Just then the telephone rang, and Teresa picked up the portable handset lying on the kitchen table.

“Hello? Yes, that’s right. You’re there now? OK, just give me one minute and I’ll be over. OK, thanks.” Hanging up the phone, she turned to Abby. “I told Mary Collins I’d take in a delivery for her and that’s them now. Will you be all right here, if I pop over and let them in?”

Mary Collins was a good friend and nearby neighbour of Teresa’s and each woman held spare keys to the other’s houses.

“Of course, you go on. Unless you want me to go with you–do you need a hand taking it in?”

“No, no, it’s only a parcel. You stay there and relax, and I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, putting on a jacket. “Make a fresh cuppa and go on into the sitting room.
The Afternoon Show
will be on soon.”

Switching on the kettle again, Abby did as she was bid and carried the plate of biscuits into the living room. While her mother was a big fan of afternoon TV, she wasn’t so keen, having had it up to her eyes with TV in general for the last few weeks. She’d much prefer reading a book but as she tired easily these days, she didn’t want to put her eyes under strain. Even spending a half an hour or so on the Internet made her eyes hurt, so Abby was careful not to put her brain under any undue pressure–just in case.

But as she had nothing better to do while waiting for her mother to return, she turned on the television. Nothing but ads, ads and more ads, she thought, looking around for the remote control, which she eventually spied sitting on top of the piano at the far end of the room.

Abby approached the piano, but instead of reaching for the remote control like she intended, she impulsively lifted the lid and pulled out the small stool tucked beneath. Then, she sat down and began idly running her fingers along the keys. 

Some ten minutes later, Teresa Ryan returned from her neighbour’s to a house filled with music, and her youngest daughter in front of the piano in the throes of Beethoven’s
Ode to Joy
.

“God, it’s years since I heard that,” Abby’s mother said fondly. “Actually, it’s years since I heard you play at all–we really should get you in front of that piano more often.” Then she turned and went back into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. Slightly shell-shocked, Abby stayed sitting in front of the piano, her fingers tingling, and not just from striking the keys.

Because as far as she was concerned, she had never played the piano in her entire life.

“No need to worry, that sounds perfectly reasonable,” Hannah informed her the following afternoon, after Abby had frantically phoned her office for an immediate appointment. She’d been completely upended by the incident at her mum’s house, not just by her surprising ability but moreover by the fact that her mother seemed to think that it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“
Reasonable
? How could it be reasonable?” Abby cried, slumping miserably into Hannah’s purple armchair. “I don’t remember ever playing the piano in my life!” She shook her head. “As far as I’m concerned I don’t know how.”

“As far as your
episodic memory
is concerned, you don’t know how,” Hannah clarified smoothly, “because you can’t specifically remember learning. Your procedural memory on the other hand, isn’t concerned with when or how you learned this particular skill, as it’s only responsible for retaining it.”

“I don’t understand …”

“Remember when I tried to reassure you that you would be able to live a perfectly normal life as far as your day-to-day activities were concerned? That you wouldn’t forget how to walk or how to dress yourself, drive a car, things like that?” When Abby looked blank, she continued. “OK, take for example learning how to walk. Like the rest of us, you probably learned this particular skill when you were a baby–what twelve, thirteen months old?”

“I think so yes.”

“So forget the head injury for a moment. I’m willing to bet that you can’t actually remember learning, can you? You can’t remember going from crawling on all fours to balancing upright and taking those first steps?”

“Well no.”

“But yet you still know how to walk, don’t you?”

“So far, yes,” Abby muttered wryly.

Hannah folded her arms. “Well, when it comes to learning a skill, such as walking or playing the piano, episodic memory is responsible for the recollection of ‘where and when’ you learned it, whereas procedural memory is responsible for the skill itself.  The brain doesn’t need to access the ‘where and when’ in order to remember the skill. Procedural memory and episodic memory function quite separately from one another. Am I making any sense?”

Abby nodded thoughtfully. “I think so. You’re saying that the undamaged part of my brain knows that I could play the piano, but the damaged bit couldn’t remember learning to do so.” Although it was still very scary, at least she was now beginning to understand the reasons behind it.