by E L Bossert
“Get a neurologist in here,” the doctor called out. “We need a consult immediately. Order a CAT scan ASAP to check for skull fractures.”
The patient stirred again, opening her eyes wider this time.
“Can you feel me touching your hand?” a nurse asked.
No response.
“Can you move your finger for me?”
A slight movement in the patient’s index finger. The nurse was pleased and continued to make requests. The patient moved each leg no more than an inch then let out a low moan. The patient’s closed her eyes.
A second doctor joined the team, leading a discussion about whether the patient was stable enough for the CAT scan or even an x-ray of her skull.
Hearing the discussion around her, the patient became aware she was in a hospital. The intense ache in her head pounded every time someone spoke. There were several references to Hero Doe, but that made no sense to her. Drifting in and out of consciousness slowly gave way to a more awakened state.
“Can you tell us your name?” the doctor asked.
The patient tried to shake her head but something prevented her head from moving. She groaned no instead.
“Do you know what day it is?”
Another groan.
A series of questions finally led to a halting answer from the patient.
“Hospital...no where...no why...no name.”
“You are in the hospital in Crestwood,” the nurse spoke directly and clearly. “You hit your head on a car windshield and have been unconscious for about an hour. You saved a little boy. We don’t know your name yet.”
“Oh,” was all the patient could manage while trying to process this new information. Finally, she asked, “How’s kid?”
“He’ll be fine, we think he just has a couple of broken fingers,” the nurse responded, even though it was a minor privacy violation. However, under the circumstances, the patient most likely would not remember two minutes later anyway. “How are you feeling? Can you tell us if you hurt somewhere?”
The patient contemplated for a moment before replying with a list, “Head...leg...arm...my name?”
“Hero Doe. For now.”
“Oh.” The patient closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
SARAH FOUND A COUPLE of nurses at the station outside Max’s room and inquired about the person who saved Max. One of the nurses told her they could not release information to a non-family member, then added they had not heard anything anyway. Sarah made her way to the ER to ask the intake clerk. She received the same answer initially. Then, without looking up, the clerk mumbled as if talking to himself, no family has arrived for that patient.
Sarah walked back to Max’s room, passing the main entrance to the hospital. She could see a few reporters already gathered outside. A police officer tried to keep them to one side to prevent interference with people who actually needed to be at the hospital.
“A couple of hours and the vultures are already here.” Sarah barely disguised her disgust as she relayed the scene to Jamie along with the lack of information about the woman who saved Max.
“I saw Dani when I was in the ambulance with Max. She was respectful, but clearly she had to put something online. Didn’t take long,” Jamie replied.
Jamie knew Dani, a reporter, socially. They went on one date shortly after Dani moved to Crestwood to work at the local newspaper. Within ten minutes they realized they were best suited for a professional relationship, not a personal one. Jamie gave Dani a couple of exclusive interviews over the years as a courtesy, to support Dani’s career. In return, Dani respected Jamie’s privacy, but she couldn’t do anything about the other reporters. That was the closest Jamie ever came to a healthy relationship with a reporter.
“What do you want me to do? I can make a statement for the family? Ask for privacy, that sort of thing?” Sarah was prepared to take on the duty of family spokesperson to protect her sister and nephew.
“That would be good. The hospital will try to protect us. Is anyone else here?” Jamie asked.
“Bryan and Marco and Gee. They’re hanging out in the café. Shon went to the house to pack up a few things and is on the way. I haven’t reached Mom and Dad yet.”
“Draft something up, please. Just say Max is doing well and we would like privacy.”
The press conference started mid-afternoon. The head of hospital administration gave a brief statement first.
“We can confirm that two people arrived at the trauma unit. We cannot comment on the condition of either patient or release their identity, but Sarah Jordan-Dirk will make a statement.”
Sarah stepped up to the podium of microphones in a small meeting room.
“I would like to confirm that my nephew, Max Jordan, was brought to the hospital this morning after a minor accident. He has a couple of broken fingers. The doctors and staff in the ER provided excellent treatment. Max is resting comfortably and will be fine. His mother, Jamie Jordan, is with him. We ask that you all respect our privacy, as well as the privacy of other patients and their families. We appreciate the concern that has been extended to Max, his mother, and our family. Thank you.”
Reporters yelled a cacophony of questions at anyone who might answer. Who is the second person? Is it true that your son, Marco, was involved in the accident? Was Max killed by a truck? What is the condition of the second person?
“We have no additional information for you at this time.” The hospital administrator put an end to the press conference and asked security to clear the room and entryway.
As they retreated into the hospital corridor, Sarah apologized to the administrator for the inconvenience to the hospital, who shook her head and sighed.
“We’ll try to keep them outside. I’ll ask for security at Max’s door, but that will just tip them off it’s his room. If everything goes well you can all be out of here early tomorrow.” The administrator then added, “This was the first time I could honestly say I have no further information. We still don’t have a clue who this hero is.”
The conversation was cut short by the appearance of the County Sheriff. The sheriff was a long-time friend of the Jordan family. She earned the nickname Chief one night when, ignoring a bleeding wound from a bullet that had grazed her arm during a chase, took down and arrested a man who had committed an armed robbery. One of the officers on the scene started to exclaim, you the man, but stopped himself and changed it to, you the Chief. The new title stuck.
“Sorry to bother you, Sarah, but I need to show you a picture and see if you recognize this person.” Chief held up a photo printed on a sheet of paper.
The person in the head shot was not immediately identifiable as female or male, with eyes closed and gauze obscuring the forehead.
“No, I don’t recognize...is this our hero?” Sarah shivered, “Is she dead?”
“No, she’s not dead,” Chief replied. “We took the picture before she was conscious. We are trying to get an ID. It’s my understanding she is conscious now but can’t remember her name or anything about the incident. None of the witnesses at the scene recognized her. I wanted to show this to you and Jamie and the family to find out if any of you recall seeing her before. Do you think Jamie is up for taking a look?”
If anyone else had asked, Sarah would have put them off, but Jamie and Chief had been close friends since high school. Chief was almost as protective of Jamie as Sarah herself was. This was probably the reason why Chief was taking on such a mundane task.
“Yes, I’m sure she will want to help out if she can. Max has already asked about Boo. That’s the name he gave our hero.” Sarah led the way to Max’s room. “Do you think Max had some contact with this person before? Like someone tried to grab him?”
“Not from the reports I’ve heard, but we will be checking into everything. It will help when we have her real name.”
Chief and Sarah arrived in Max’s room, finding him groggy from the pain medicine and quietly playing with a puzzle using his un-splinted
hand while Jamie watched and spoke softly to comfort him, and herself. Seeing Chief, Jamie rose from the bedside to embrace her friend. Max held his arms up for a hug, too.
“I am very happy to see you, tiger.” Chief smiled at Max affectionately, enfolding the child in her arms gently and tousling his hair. Chief held out the picture to Jamie, shielding the eerie portrait from Max’s view. “Sorry to bother you but have you ever seen this person before?”
Jamie studied the picture for a moment. The purple T-shirt tipped her off that this was the person on the hood of the car who had saved Max. At the scene, she had briefly looked at the blood streaked face and wondered if it was the woman she had seen walking down the sidewalk.
“Not before this morning. I saw her lying on the car, and I think it might be the same person I saw walking down Main Street as we came into town, but that woman had a big backpack. Is she dead?”
“No, she’s alive,” Chief replied. “We should take another picture now that she’s opened her eyes. She doesn’t appear to be local. She can’t remember her name, where she’s from, or why she’s in Crestwood. A witness said she had a backpack, but it’s missing. We think someone picked it up. There are a couple of homeless guys, regulars on that street, we are looking for them. I know you see a lot of people. We thought you might remember meeting her somewhere else. When you were off on location or something.”
“No, nothing comes to mind.” Jamie looked at the picture again, studying the sharp facial features. “Will she be okay? I need to thank her.”
“They said her condition is fair but stable. We’re canvassing the stores in the area for surveillance tapes to see if she’s on them somewhere. Something will turn up.”
“You said she’s awake. When can I see her? I want to make sure she receives whatever care she needs.” Concern creased Jamie’s face.
“I can’t tell you a lot, but I will say she hit her head pretty darn hard. Cracked the windshield. A neurologist is coming in. The staff will be very thorough. The story about her saving Max has made the rounds. They said her memory should come back if there aren’t any complications.” What Chief did not add was that the process of recovering memories could take weeks, or months.
“Thanks Chief. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Jamie turned her attention back to Max.
Chapter Three
TWO DAYS AFTER HIS discharge, Jamie and Max returned to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. Jamie dropped by the inpatient wing where Hero Doe had been moved to see if she could shake lose any news about the injured woman.
“Boo!” Max yelled when he saw the tall woman stick her head out the door of the staff break room and took off toward her before Jamie could flinch.
“Max, stop,” Jamie called as loudly as she thought she should in a hospital. “Max, no.” She hurried to catch him, but he had a head start and no inhibition about reaching his target.
“Boo,” Max reached his hero and leapt into her arms. Fortunately she avoided crunching his broken fingers as she caught him.
“Well...Max, it’s good to see you! Oh my, what happened to your hand?”
“Remember, you saved me. Like Supergirl! You flew in and saved me from the truck!”
“I did?” the woman replied with equal enthusiasm. “Wow! But you hurt your hand.”
“You broke it. But that’s okay, you didn’t mean to,” Max offered matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry. I’m glad you forgive me—what did you call me?”
“Boo!”
“Is that my name?”
“Yes!” Max pronounced.
Boo looked up to see Jamie and a nurse standing in front of her. Extending her free hand to Jamie, Boo politely introduced herself.
“You must be Max’s mother? I’m...Boo. Sounds a lot less pretentious than Hero.” Boo gave the nurse a humble look.
“Hi, I’m Jamie, and yes, I am Max’s mother.” Jamie cocked her head to one side to inquire, “They said you can’t remember your name, but you remember Max?”
“No, not really,” Boo turned her head slightly away from Max, who was running his un-splinted hand over her nearly bald head. “I heard you call him. He seemed so excited to see me, I didn’t want to spoil it.” Boo lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.
Jamie was relieved to sense Boo did not recognize her. She had learned to pick up on the moment of awe when someone realizes they are meeting a celebrity. Boo seemed to have a pleasantly blank face when looking at her. The innocence was refreshing.
“How are you feeling?” Jamie took her first long look at Boo’s face, studying the strong jaw, the lines forming at the sides of Boo’s nearly golden light brown eyes, and the deep dimple on one side of the her face. Her unevenly shaved hair was still mostly obscured by gauze bandages. The bronzed skin of Boo’s sinewy forearms and well-defined biceps suggested she spent a lot of time outdoors. Boo definitely had roguish good looks even if she was a little worse for wear at the moment. Jamie consciously forced herself to stop staring.
“I’m able to hobble around. Bit of a bruise on my ankle. Guess my big boots saved it from being broken. Otherwise, just minor bruises. Oh, yea, a bit of a head-bang.” Boo rolled her eyes toward the gash in her head, which had been stitched and taped over.
“I need to thank you for saving Max. They told me you grabbed him and...” Tears filled Jamie’s eyes. “If it hadn’t been for you...” Jamie couldn’t finish that sentence either.
“Well, I am glad I did whatever I did, because this little person is precious.” Boo gave the child in her arms a little tighter squeeze. “Hey, Max, if it’s okay with your mother, do you want some ice cream? The nurses hide some in the freezer, but I think they’ll share.”
“Mom, can I?”
“Yes, go ahead, but not too much. It’s almost lunchtime.”
Boo silently thanked Jamie for her permission, then addressed the nurse.
“You can tell...” Boo paused to think, “Jamie—I’m not too good with remembering names yet, but I’m getting better. You can tell Jamie what you told me about retro amnesia or whatever fancy name you called it. Right now this seems to be as close as I have to family.”
As Boo and Max disappeared into the staff break room, the nurse eyed Jamie. There was no harm in sharing the basic information about the patient’s condition.
“Boo, as she will now be known, has a mild to severe concussion. We are still monitoring her for any complications, seizures, brain swelling or other symptoms from her injury. There do not appear to be any other serious injuries. She has a bruised ankle, where the truck hit her, and bruises on her arm and hip, where she landed on the car. She has near-total loss of memory of names, places, and prior events in her life, but the basics are still there. We are following a concussion protocol, trying not to overstimulate her brain. But we’re also trying to help her remember things if she can. This type of amnesia typically reverses and the patient recovers some or even most of their memory...eventually.”
“I don’t know what to say. Is there anything I can do?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t think the police have turned up any ID yet. We’ll keep her for at least a week and hope we make some progress. If she hasn’t remembered her name, someone will have to decide where she goes. It’s unclear what will happen at that point.”
“Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I owe her everything.” Tears stung Jamie’s eyes again.
“This is the perkiest I’ve seen Boo since she came to our unit. I won’t tell if you pop back in for a visit. Hanging out with nurses and doctors who just want to poke and ask you how many times you’ve had a bowel movement today gets rather boring. We have not turned on the TV or offered her access to the computer, and she hasn’t asked. We are trying to limit stimulus. A little interaction might help. I’m sure you’re busy and it’s a lot to ask, but we have all rather taken a liking to Boo. She may not remember her name, but she remembers her manners. She is quite a charmer.”
Jamie relaxe
d, feeling more at ease believing Boo did not recognize her. It was a long-lost sensation to meet someone with such a clean slate.
“HOW’D IT GO?” SARAH popped into Jamie’s kitchen to check in after Max’s morning appointment at the hospital.
“Max is fine. Doctor says he will probably only vaguely remember this whole ordeal when he’s older,” Jamie replied as she prepared sandwiches for lunch. “We saw Boo, as Max has named her. I tried to thank her but didn’t do a very good job I’m afraid. I was all choked up.” Jamie’s eyes held back tears just thinking about what might have happened if not for Boo’s quick action. “Have you eaten?” Jamie asked her sister.
“I had something, thanks. I’m catching up on some paperwork down at the office. First time I’ve felt like working since this happened. Talked to Mom and Dad again today and finally convinced them Max is fine and they do not have to rush home. They said from the stories in the news it sounds like Max is near death. I can’t believe those fucking so-called reporters,” Sarah fumed.
“Yea, Bryan told me one story had the police and social workers crawling all over this place, and I was about to lose custody or some such nonsense. He just wanted to warn me in case someone said something.”
“Speaking of police,” Sarah took the opportunity to change the subject, “Chief wants to stop by. Said she had a little more information to share. I told her to come by about three. Hope that’s okay.”
“Yea, that’s fine.”
After lunch and a nap with Max in a shaded hammock on the back patio, Jamie heard Chief call from the gate. Jamie buzzed her friend through and met her at the front door.
“Is this official business?” Jamie hugged her old friend.
“Mostly, but I also wanted to check in on Max, and you. How is my little buddy?”
“He’s fine, we received a good report from the doctor.” Jamie nodded her appreciation of Chief’s concern.
“We found the man who picked up our hero’s backpack. He barely remembered it. He was high on something. Said he took the cash from a wallet and a camera. Swears he threw everything else away and did not pocket a phone, and doesn’t remember seeing any name or anything else. He was focused on the cash, about a hundred dollars. Said the camera was a superzoom, but nothing fancy. He sold the camera to someone for $50. He couldn’t tell us who and didn’t care. He just wanted the money. We checked the dumpsters around where he says he threw backpack away, but it was long gone to the landfill. We notified the people out there, but it’s a long shot that anyone will ever find it. We’ll see if we can find the camera, maybe it has some pictures on it, but that’s also a long shot.”
