Part One of Three
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MEMORY LOST
PROLOGUE
I'm Josh, 33. I'm 6'-2" and weigh about 190, with a broad chest and fairly muscular build, though not beefy. Nowadays, I'm pretty cut. I guess my physique resembles that of a professional swimmer, though I am not one. I guess I'm average to handsome looking, depending on the eye of the beholder. I have dark-brown hair which is slightly wavy. I wear it off the ears and neck. I tried a mustache and beard for a while, but could never get used to the look, so I am now cleanshaven. I have brown eyes, an average nose, and have what is considered a strong chin and jawline.
As this story begins, I'm quiet, reserved, and somewhat anti-social. I wasn't always that way, and hope not to be, in the future. I was once married, had a job, and by all accounts, a good life with a bright future. I say by all accounts, because I have little to no memory of that life. My story begins a little over two years ago in northern California on the Pacific coast.
I. UPSIDE DOWN
My wife and I were traveling on the Pacific Coast Highway, Highway 1. We were outside the northern California town of Eureka, when my world was turned upside down - literally and figuratively.
In a region where the highway is only two lanes and follows high cliffs above the ocean, we were approaching a sharp bend in the road when an oncoming car took the curve too fast and broad-sided our car, causing me to slide off the road, flip over a guard rail and plunge over 100 feet onto a rocky plateau below, landing upside down. The rocky shelf saved us from falling another fifty feet into the ocean.
However, it did not save my wife, Kate. She died at the scene. From the time of the accident, it took rescuers three hours to respond, reach our car, stabilize it and pull us from the wreckage. The driver of the other car, a young man whose rich daddy had just bought him a new BMW, escaped with minor injuries. I have no memory of any of this and only know it from what was recounted to me.
Though seriously injured, I escaped with my body mostly intact, but not my mind. Head trauma left me in a coma for 17 days, and spinal injuries to my neck left me temporarily paralyzed in my extremities. Multiple surgeries and six months of rehabilitation restored my physical function, and close to a year of physical therapy and exercise restored my physical health. I never fully recovered my mental health, at least not when it came to my memory. I suffer from posttraumatic retrograde amnesia to this day. And though, in most cases, the amnesia isn't permanent, in some cases, such as mine, memory loss can be permanent. In my case, only time will tell.
My only memory of the accident is the sound of my wife's scream, a disembodied sound which echoes in my head to this day. Everything before that moment is a jumbled blur. Except for bits and pieces, I remember very little from the past. After the accident and regaining consciousness, I didn't know who I was, what my name was - nothing; but little by little, certain things returned. Within a month of coming out of the coma, I remembered 'me'. I eventually recognized my sister, and though I had the feeling we were very close, I had no specific memories of her, just fleeting moments here and there. I even recognized my wife's parents, but remembered almost nothing about them.
As for my parents, my mother passed less than a year before the accident - complications from hip surgery. I don't know the whole story; my sister doesn't like to talk about it. My father died of cancer when I was ten; not from smoking, but from chemicals where he worked. So, it's just my sister and I.
I do often think about the accident and how a few seconds could have made all the difference - if we had made it around that curve before the other car, then my life would be completely different. I no longer dwell on that, but it does creep in.
While I have few memories from my past, I do have knowledge about it. I know I went to college, and have a couple memories related to that, but mainly, the MSc in Geophysics from Caltech hanging on my wall tells me that. And I know I was in an intern program at Lawrence Livermore, but have no memories from there.
I recognize my wife in pictures and remember her name, but little else from our six years together. I have flashes, moments I remember, like a specific time at the beach, or a moment in the car driving somewhere. And though it may sound callous, emotionally, I don't feel the loss of my wife that deeply. But I do feel an emptiness, a hole in my soul, from not having memories of her.
Okay, so I had an education and a career path; I was a husband; and apparently had a very nice life ahead of me. Don't get me wrong; I know I can still have a decent life in the future, just not that one.
While I was in a coma, my sister, Elaine, stepped in, got temporary legal guardianship, took care of my affairs until I was able to, and hired a lawyer on my behalf. Their efforts resulted in a net 5.5-million-dollar settlement for me. I gave my sister 500,000 of that and banked and invested the rest. I live on the interest and dividends - but 'living' is a loose term. Besides memory loss, I deal with moments of severe agitation, disorientation, and overwhelming depression. I am also plagued by chronic headaches, but all these symptoms have decreased with time and treatment, except the amnesia.
After my initial rehabilitation, I moved to the Smoky Mountains in Western North Carolina, or WNC, to live near my sister, Elaine. I bought a small cabin on 10 acres with a bold creek, and located near the town of Waynesville. The cabin is generally isolated, but not remote. I'm only 20 minutes from town and 15 minutes from my sister's.
After moving there, I began a strenuous regimen of physical therapy and exercise, including running regularly. After a year I reached the physical condition that I'm in today; which, according to my sister, is better than the shape I was in before the accident.
During that year, I lived a solitary existence. I battled depression and had difficulty cultivating even casual relationships, male or female, but especially female. Every time I encountered a woman who showed interest in me, I was unable to follow through and develop any kind of relationship. To this day, I don't know why that was the case.
As I rebuild my life, each day I try to focus on the present and making progress of some sort. I always hope I will regain my full memory, but I don't count on it, and I don't dwell on it. Like one of my physical therapists said, "Josh, I could tell you a hundred different things to encourage you and enlighten you on how to recover and regain your former physical strength and abilities, but the simple phrase, 'Start by putting one foot in front of the other' is the most important."
So, that is what I am doing these days, metaphorically, putting one foot in front of the other. Thus begins my journey to become a complete person.
Afraid that I was going to spiral into a hopeless, depressed state of existence, Elaine encouraged me to get out of the cabin, get off the mountain and travel - she insisted. Eventually, I relented and began a trip across country visiting our nation's natural and scenic wonders.
II. DEVIL'S TOWER
I started my trip going across the Southern U.S., hitting several significant sites, including Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico and the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Then I turned north into Utah, passing through Las Vegas, which I didn't stop to visit - too crowded, noisy and flashy. In Utah, I visited Bryce Canyon, Arches National Park and Monument Valley. From there, I continued north, visiting Yellowstone and Devil's tower. So began the journey to recover my mental health, one that, in ways, was more challenging than the one to recover my physical health, although far more interesting.
With the body, you can have a plan, a program that takes you step by step. With the mind, there's no road map, no plan; it's a crap shoot. I saw psychologists and head trauma specialists, but the story was always the same - there's no direct path to regaining your memory and no guarantees; and for every person, the journey and the outcome can be different. But my sister was right; getting out of my cabin and reconnecting with the world was the right course of action. It didn't specifically help me regain my memory, but it did help me function better, and helped my state of mind.
Traveling across country, I was constantly forced to engage with strangers and deal with new situations; something I had been insulated from to a great degree since the accident. The simple tasks of checking in at hotels, eating in restaurants, being in crowds of people, though difficult, were all therapeutic on some level. We don't realize how much of daily activity is routine when we have a past filled with experiences for a foundation. I appreciate that greatly. Conversations can be awkward, tasks can be challenging, interactions on any level can be uncomfortable.
Actually, the severity of my head injury could have left me with diminished physical and mental capacities - aphasia. With the trauma my brain underwent, only suffering memory loss and some severe headaches was quite fortunate in the grand scope of things. And I do remember certain things - how to tie my shoes, dress, shower, et cetera. Though I don't remember what I liked to eat, what I liked to watch on tv, what my favorite sports teams were, on and on. I was and still am an incomplete person.
On the upside, being put in new situations, being forced to interact with people helped me to develop into who I am now. Elaine tells me that I have become a unique blend of 'old Josh' and 'new Josh'.
After the first couple weeks of travel, I was pretty comfortable functioning on my own and was learning to deal with people and crowds on a superficial level. However, personal situations still presented a challenge, especially with women.
As I traveled, I made a few discoveries along the way - I like beer; don't know if I always did, but I do now. And I found that after a beer or two, it was easier to engage people in casual conversation. Oh, and pizza - I love pizza, even bad pizza.
Late one afternoon, after visiting Devil's Tower in northeastern Wyoming, I headed down to I-90 to get to my next stop, Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. I picked up the 90 in the small town of Sundance. I stopped there, filled with gas and ate dinner. By the time I was ready to leave, it was closing on eight p.m. and Rushmore was still two hours away, so I decided to overnight in Sundance. On my way to find a room, I spotted a bar called the Horseshoe Bar and Grill (name altered - but locals will know), and decided to have a beer. One beer turned into two as I chatted with the bartender, a pleasant young woman named Marla. While we were talking, I was approached by a guy and asked if I'd fill out a foursome playing pool.
"Hey, Marla, just want to see if our friend here would like to join us in a game of pool. Bobby couldn't make it, and we need a fill in."
"Sure, Chuck. Josh, this is Chuck; Chuck, Josh. Would you like to shoot some pool, Josh?"
