Amnesia

Author's notes:

1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.

2. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.

*****

Prologue:

Every morning you wake up and expect to be you. You expect to be almost the same age as you went to bed the previous night, know the same things, be as physically strong and able, know the same people and have the same memories. This is what gives you your sense of self. You never wake up as someone else or as you at a very different age - but what if you did . . .?

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I gradually woke up, slowly, as you do when consciousness seeps into your awareness and you relax in that glorious half sleep, half wake time, turning over your thoughts, planning your day. As I became more aware of being awake I realized that it was Saturday and our kids had to be driven to their sports fixtures, nine year old Jason to football, eleven year old Nicole to netball. I turned over for a last few minutes of cuddles with my husband, Adam, still sleeping, snoring gently beside me. I snuggled up close, hoping to wake him gently and lovingly before we had to start the day.

I felt him jolt, his whole body went rigid and as I watched his face his eyes popped open, not full of love as they usually were at this time of the day, but full of fear, fright, no, more than that, absolute terror. With a quick jerk of his body and push with his arms he moved me away from him, almost pushing me out of bed. Wtf, I thought, has he been having nightmares?

"Who are you?" he asked, almost incoherently, "Who are you?"

"Sweetheart, I'm your lovely wife Lisa, remember? We've been married for fourteen years, you must have seen me somewhere here during that time," I joked.

"Get out of my bed. I don't know you, never seen you before. Get out. Now!"

Oh shit, I thought, what happened here?

"Darling, it's my bed too, what's the . . . "

"Don't you try and sweet talk me. Where did you come from? Who are you really? Why are you in my bed?"

He was serious. Did he really not know me? He obviously wasn't playing any game I knew. I figured the best way to deal with this right now was to do what he said, so I threw the covers off me and stood up.

"For God's sake get some clothes on, whoever you are," he shouted at me, turning away, "You're so rude."

Well, I thought, that certainly isn't the Adam I know. Every time he sees me naked he wants to cuddle me, and more. I walked into the dressing room and pulled on a robe, tying the belt as I returned to Adam's side of the bed.

"Get away from me," he said again, pushing me away. I stepped backwards, hitting the wall, then, after looking into his eyes, the eyes of a hunted, cornered animal, I left for the kitchen wondering what I should do in this situation. I like to think of myself as pretty resourceful, able to handle most situations, but this one?

Nicole and Jason were in the kitchen preparing their breakfasts. Adam and I had brought them up to be independent.

"Morning, Mom," they chorused, "What was that thump we heard?" asked Nicole.

"Oh, nothing really, don't worry about it, I just hit the wall accidentally."

They chattered away, talking about their games today, both at 9am, and asking to be collected again at midday. Fortunately their playing grounds were only a short distance apart.

"Where's Dad?" Nicole asked after a while.

"Still in bed, I think. He seemed a bit strange this morning so I wouldn't disturb him if I were you."

I ate breakfast, prepared a few snacks for the kids, dressed, noticing that Adam appeared to have gone back to sleep, then herded the kids into the car and drove them to their games. Their calls of "Goodbye, Dad" as they left went unanswered.

When I returned home I entered the bedroom cautiously, half expecting another tirade. I stood at the end of the bed and looked at Adam for a few minutes. He looked the same Adam I'd known since we were childhood sweethearts, the same Adam I'd married all those years ago, yet he somehow 'felt' different; some part of him seemed to be missing.

"Darling," I began quietly, "Are you awake? Are you Ok?"

He opened his eyes and looked at me without recognition. His first words sent a shiver of apprehension up my spine.

"Who am I?" he asked, with tears appearing in his eyes.

I walked slowly around to his side of the bed and sat down on the edge. So far, so good, I hadn't been pushed away again.

"Sweetheart, you're Adam, my husband, Jason and Nicole's Dad, I'm Lisa. Why do you need to ask, honey?"

More tears pooled in his eyes as he looked away from me, as though what he had to say was too much to say while looking into my eyes.

"I can't remember," he said, his voice breaking into sobs, "I can't remember anything. I have no memory of family, of who I am or what I've done. No memories of most of my past; it's as though I'm in a vacuum, starting my life again from scratch. I can talk and remember words, but I can't remember anything complex."

Omigod, I thought, nothing could have prepared me for this. My wonderful husband is like a computer without an operating system, I thought, using a computer analogy from my work as a systems analyst.

"Well, honey, just take it easy for a bit. Maybe it's just stress from work or something." I tried to sound reassuring, but mentally I was preparing for the worst. "Just rest there. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast in bed? What would you like, darling?"

"I don't know. I can't remember what food I like and what I don't. Please bring me something that you know I like."

As he was speaking his eyes never left my face, as though he was creating a mental image of it in case he forgot what I looked like. I bent down and kissed him; no response. He didn't reach out to me, didn't really kiss me back, as though I was a total stranger, which, if what he said was correct, I probably was.

I left the room and prepared grilled tomatoes and bacon with poached eggs on toast for him, taking him a cup of his favorite coffee as well. I placed the tray on the dressing table then helped him sit up. He looked down at his naked torso, then pulled the covers up to his chin.

"I don't think you should see me naked," he said, looking into my eyes again, "I think I need to get dressed before you can see me."

"Darling, I've seen you naked all over many, many times. We are often naked together, we enjoy being naked together."

"No. No, no, no, no, definitely no. I don't know anything but I somehow know that men and women should not see each other naked."

I thought about that for a few seconds. At least he realized that men and women were different and he somehow remembered that nakedness was sometimes frowned upon between genders. I thought that was a start at least. I remembered that his parents had always been very prudish. Maybe his very basic OS was still functioning, it was the higher level software and memory that were erased. I went to the dressing room and found a light jacket for him and gave it to him. He gratefully wriggled himself into it, then accepted the tray of breakfast.

"Thank you, Lisa, I think you said your name is," he tried, and failed, to give me a smile, his face screwing up with the effort. "You can leave me now and I'll eat."

That seemed strange, but in the interests of peace I left and phoned Dr Trevor Baxter, our doctor of many years. I felt he was the best person to both notify and seek guidance from.

"Good morning, Dr Baxter here," came his confident, reassuring voice through the phone.

"Good morning Trevor," I replied, we'd been on first name terms for a long time, ever since he delivered Nicole, "I have a problem."

While he listened I told him how Adam had been responding this morning, about what he said regarding his loss of memory, not knowing who he or anyone else is, and by the time I had finished I was only saying a few words between sobs. It was as though my whole world had collapsed around me.

Trevor reassured me that what I had done was perfect and that he'd come over as soon as he could, probably in about half an hour or so. I thanked him, hung up, steeled myself to go back to Adam and walked into the room as he was finishing his meal. He looked at me with as much recognition as he would give a waitress in a café.

"Thank you, that was really nice. You chose well. Did I like that before?"

"Yes, darling, it was your favorite. How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine in my body, but my mind is almost completely blank. I don't know if I'm supposed to go anywhere today or what I'd planned to do, or anything. What day is it anyway?"

Well, at least he knew that days had names, I thought, another encouraging sign maybe.

"It's Saturday," I replied.

"Do I go to work on Saturday?"

Oh, maybe not such an encouraging sign.

"No, you stay home usually, sometimes you watch our children play sport, sometimes we take them to sport and I come home and climb back into bed with you for a couple of hours of lovemaking, but I guess not today."

"Oh. We have children? How many? What's lovemaking?"

Oh boy! Let's see how he'll take this then.

"We have two children, a girl Nicole, aged eleven, a boy Jason aged nine. Lovemaking is where we get into bed together, naked," I grinned, "and we cuddle, kiss and have sex."

This was greeted with a blank look on his face.

"We go to bed? Together? Naked? That's revolting. And have sex? How do we have sex? What's sex?"

"Sweetheart, firstly it is wonderful, not revolting, and secondly the best way to let you know about lovemaking and having sex is to show you. Would you like me to do that?" I took a step closer to the bed; he moved away from me.

"No, no closer. No definitely I don't want you in bed with me, especially not naked." He reached under the covers with his hand, obviously checking to see what he was wearing, and a look of horror came over his face. "Could you find me some clothing to put on below my tummy please. I can feel that I'm naked under here."

Ok, I thought, so he remembers tummy and can work out he's naked below there. I find a pair of shorts and hand them to him, taking his tray at the same time.

"I'll leave you to put your shorts on," I said as I left the room.

Once in the kitchen I sat on a stool at the buffet, lowered my head onto my crossed arms and wept. I wept for the joy we'd had in our lives, which he now didn't remember and which we may never have again; I wept for the frustration of having the man I loved so totally and completely and helplessly different from the man I had known and loved; and I wept for the doubt, uncertainty and frustration I felt for the future. I must have stayed like that for a while because I was startled when the doorbell rang.

Dr Trevor Baxter was a tall, gaunt man in his fifties. I took him into the lounge and told him a little about what had happened this morning, finding that my hopeless and helpless weeping had created a release which enabled me to face the situation with new resolve. We then walked into the bedroom and I introduced Trevor to Adam, because he had no memory of ever meeting him before.

Trevor checked Adam out physically, confirming to me that there was nothing physically wrong with him, then proceeded to ask him questions about his past. This went on for quite a long time and Adam became more and more frustrated as he slowly realized the extent of his memory loss. It seemed that he had no memory from now back to when he was about five years old. He had no recollection of school, of college, of his job as an electrical engineer, of marriage, children, buying the house, yet he could remember the house his parents lived in until he was five, he could remember some of his childhood friends, though not me, because I didn't meet him till we went to school together. The concepts he could discuss were only those which a five year old could understand, hence his total ignorance of anything sexual while knowing that men and women, or for him, boys and girls shouldn't be naked together.

After his interrogation, Trevor reassured him, telling him he'd be fine in a few days and that I'd look after him. Trevor and I returned to the lounge where we sat and talked for nearly an hour, trying to work out strategies for helping Adam and maybe restoring his memories. Trevor didn't hold out a great deal of hope for memory restoration, feeling that maybe he'd had a small stroke, depriving part of his brain of oxygen, causing the cells that stored the memories to die. Very much, in his opinion, it was going to be a case of needing to teach Adam how to live in this world all over again, and we both knew that was neither quick nor easy.

As he left Trevor told me that he'd contact the mental health people at the local hospital and we could go and visit them during the week.

"Good luck, and hang in there, Lisa," he said as he left, "I'll let you know when you have appointments as soon as I know."

I returned to our bedroom and found that Adam was dressed and in the bathroom washing his face. After he dried himself, he spent a long time looking in the mirror.

"I'm not how I thought I looked," he said, "I thought I was much younger than I am. How old am I?"

"You're 34," I replied, "And so am I. Your birthday is just over two months before mine."

He seemed to take this on board, went into the bedroom and sat on our bed, then asked me, "When will you take me home?"

"Sweetheart, this is your home," I replied.

He thought about this for a few minutes, obviously trying to search his non-existent memory, then said, "No, I mean my real home, where Mom and Dad live. And how did I get here anyway?"

I let out a deep sigh and sat down alongside him; at least he was letting me do that now, I thought.

"Honey, your Mom and Dad are quite old and live a long way away from here. Do you know what married means?"

"Yes, it means a man and a woman agree to spend their lives together. I went to Auntie Iris's wedding a while ago. The food was yummy."

"Great, well done for remembering that, but that was a long time ago. Auntie Iris is now nearly fifty and she and Uncle Tom also live a long way away. You and I met at school and became childhood sweethearts. Then when we were nineteen you asked me to marry you and I agreed. We got married ourselves when we were twenty. We've been loving each other, together, here in this house, since then."

I paused, thinking that at least he heard me out and hadn't denied it or interrupted. Maybe that was progress. I hoped so.

"Oh. I don't remember any of that. Were we happy?"

"Yes, darling, very happy, and we will be again once you're all fixed up. Trevor, Dr Baxter, said that you just have loss of memory and that he'll make some appointments for you to have some tests done next week. After that we'll know what's wrong and how it can be fixed."

I thought I was doing well trying to imagine him as a five year old and talking to him at that level. At least he had that little bit of memory; I mentally expressed gratitude for that small mercy. Otherwise we'd be unable to communicate at all and I'd have to teach him to speak again. Bad enough having to help him grow up a second time. There really are very few facilities that cater for 34 year old five year olds. I wondered what a 40 year old teenager would be like.

He thought about what I'd said and then reached out his hand and placed it in mine.

"I like you," he said, looking earnestly into my eyes, "Will you be my friend?"

It was all I could do not to burst into tears right then and there.

"Yes, of course I will be. We'll be friends forever," I replied, blinking away the tears furiously. "Now I'm your friend, would you like me to give you a hug?"

He gazed at me, possibly trying to work out whether he trusted me enough for physical contact yet. Then he seriously turned towards me and put his arms around me. I placed mine around him and held him, sobbing against his shoulder.

"Are you alright? Have I hurt you?"

"No, sweetheart, quite the opposite. I'm really enjoying our hug. Thank you for giving me one of your special hugs."

It was nearly noon so I told Adam I was going to collect Nicole and Jason and when I returned I'd make him some lunch. He seemed Ok with that and I left him sitting quietly in the lounge. I collected the children and then pulled over to have a talk with them before we returned home. They were amazed and sort of thought it cool that their Dad was now younger than them, well, in understanding and memory anyway. I suddenly realized that yesterday I had a loving and supportive husband to help me raise our two children; today I had an extra child and no husband. Oh well, can't change it right now, I thought, I'll cope somehow.

We arrived home to find Adam in the kitchen making a peanut butter sandwich. In true 5 year old fashion, stuff was everywhere. What should I do? Humor him like a kid? Tell him off as though he was indeed five? Tolerate him as I would an errant husband? I did none of these. Instead I gave him a hug and helped him finish the sandwich and clean up the mess. He beamed at me. It was worth the extra work just to receive that smile.

He sat at the table and I prepared some more lunch for him and lunch for the rest of us as well. What did he drink? Coffee? Milk? I asked him and the answer came back as milk. He really was mentally a five year old.

After lunch Jason and Nicole started questioning him, fascinated that he actually thought that he was five. How did he know that, they wanted to know; because when he went to bed last night he was five, he told them, so he should also be five when he woke up this morning. Such simple logic is extremely difficult to refute. However, he did not have an answer to their question of why, if he was five, was he bigger than them. Instead of answering he looked pleadingly at me as if I should know the answer. I didn't.

During the afternoon I decided to challenge him and see just how much he did know. I sat him down at the computer and suggested that he check his email. He just looked at me with absolutely no idea what a computer or email was and no clue how to use the laptop in front of him. A while later I gave him the newspaper and he thumbed through it, looking at the pictures. I asked if he could read any of the words and he very slowly and laboriously read some of the very simple words, like 'a', 'I', 'we', 'and' and 'the'. I began to see the enormity of the task of teaching him everything he needed to know to be a 34 year old man in the modern world. Just to think that we all went through this process as we grew up; we all built our own concepts of the world we live in, developed our own tools for learning and living, during the 29 years between when we were five and 34. The most interesting part is that the really important things are those which we develop ourselves, for which there was no teacher except trial and error and experience. Surely it was not possible to cram all that into a reasonable timeframe so he could resume his position as head of the household anytime soon, was it?

That evening after dinner Nicole and Jason spent some time on their laptops, while Adam watched what they were doing. The children were fascinated that they knew so much more than their father and were both eager to teach him what they knew. I watched a TV program, not because it was particularly interesting, but simply so that I had something to seem to be doing while I tried desperately to sort out the impossible situation in my mind. The children went to bed at their normal bedtime after semi-joking that Dad should go to bed earlier because he was younger than them, leaving Adam and I alone in the lounge. I snuggled up to him on the sofa and he put his arm around me.