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"Nope. Tests show impulses from the higher cortical areas of the brain transmitted to the limbic system. And the blood work has abnormal numbers for norepinephrine. Maybe she was not chronically depressed, but all the signs are here."
"So, the emotional circuit of the brain is compromised. Open the MRI scan. I wanna take a look at her prefrontal cortex."
He did just that and when we zoomed in to the area I was interested in, I saw his head shaking.
"It's not lit up at all." My shoulders sank.
"Minimal activity and look at her hippocampus volume; it is very reduced. James, it's all here. She was physically and psychologically traumatized. The signs are all over her brain. You don't have anything to do with it?"
His question made me nauseous.
"What the fuck? Of course not! I would never touch a woman with the intent to hurt her."
"Fair. You want to hear my theory?"
"Yeah, I can't concentrate."
"You said she lost conscience and fell down with no obvious cause. I say she was either having a depression episode, or a big scare, possibly because of whatever is causing that kind of stress. The hit to the head reset her brain, and she erased only the part of her life that was marked by abuse."
Fucking hell.
"She did tell me that her last memory is a fight with her father."
"There you have it, the dad had a few tantrums and beat the shit out of her."
My stomach turned into a tight knot. It seemed like a logical theory, and I hated every single thing about it. I was not a violent man. I never had been, but I had my number of rounds in the boxing ring with Zach. I hoped Rita's father did not cross my path anytime soon because I was ready to make his skull match his daughter’s.
"Sullivan, I’ve had cases like this before, with violent fathers or uncles. Maybe you should make her take another consult...for other types of abuse."
A bitter taste was suddenly installed in my mouth, and I was suddenly nauseous. To say I was disgusted by the mere idea of such a ludicrous thing to happen to Rita - my Rita – it was a soft statement.
"So," Jake closed the monitor and turned to me. "I know my recommendation is redundant for you, but I feel obligated to say it. She needs a calm environment, lots of time to recover and maybe some therapy, but they will ask a lot of questions, and it seems like you want to keep this under wraps. I can give her some under the counter Exelon."
"Dude, I'm not giving Rita Alzheimer drugs."
"Your call, but Exelon is very good for memory. Just keep it in your mind."
"Absolutely not. Now let me get to her before she gets bored and starts chasing your nurses down the halls for fun. Rita is one fiery woman."
"In bed?"
"Why are you like that, Jake? I need another favor. Let me do the talking, and don't say a word about her previous injury."
"You don't think she's entitled to know that her brain was shaken like hell by a guy with hot fists?"
"No. Never if I can help it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What I hear, doctor, is that I was right, and there is no injury. We waisted precious sex nights because of that."
We were strolling, holding hands on Randolph Street, enjoying the good weather we had today. The spring was around the corner, and the city was coming back to life. She couldn’t stop telling me how wrong I was.
I still was.
I was a disgrace to the oath I took. I was holding health information from a patient. I shouldn't even know her health status. I had no right.
"At least we know we're in the clear now. Stop holding my concern for you over my head, lady."
