Falling in Love in New York

by HILL, MELISSA

  “What kind of damage?” she asked croakily. “Where?” A stupid question seeing as they were here to discuss the results of a CT scan on her brain. But perhaps stupid questions were a symptom of the damage?

  “The blow was a severe one, and it caused some damage to your left temporal lobe– there under your temple, exactly where you were hit,” he said, pointing to the relevant location on the scan of Abby’s brain. She couldn’t really see anything out of the ordinary, but then again, why would she? Like most people, she wasn’t exactly familiar with the inside of her own brain.

  Still she nodded wordlessly, and waited for him to continue.

  “Well, I’ll try not to get too technical, but just to give you an idea of what we’re dealing with, the temporal lobe houses the hippocampus, which makes up part of the limbic system–the region of your brain responsible for emotion and motivation.”

  He spoke in a monotone voice that reminded Abby of the bored way the air hostesses had gone through the safety information on that first plane trip she’d taken. Fair enough if he had to repeat the information time and time again to different people but this was her first time hearing it, so couldn’t he at least try and sound someway interested?

  “But what does this mean?” she asked, glancing at Teresa for her reaction. But strangely, the calm way in which her mother was taking the news suggested to Abby that her mother had already suspected there would be some repercussions. “How will this damage to the hippocampus or whatever it’s called affect me?”

  “Take it easy love,” Teresa said, reacting to the panic in her voice. “Best to just wait and let the doctor explain everything.”

  Doctor Moroney breathed out deeply, and sat on the edge on his desk.

  “Abby, when people develop Alzheimer’s, the hippocampus is usually the first region of the brain to suffer damage.”

  An intense range of emotions attacked her all at once. “Alzheimer’s?” she gasped. “You’re telling me I have Alzheimer’s?”

  The doctor shook his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not saying that at all. All we know is that there’s damage to the hippocampus, and that this will have an effect on you long-term.” And although the consultant tried his best to try and sound offhand and even upbeat, there was no mistaking his grave demeanour.

  “Abby, when we got these scans back, we weren’t entirely sure what to make of them, so we forwarded the file to the a neurologist in the US, a Doctor Franklin. He’s one of the highest ranking neurologists in his field, particularly in the area of hippocampus injury.”

  Abby’s hands grasped the edge of the chair, and again she wished the doctor would just say what he had to say. This Doctor Franklin could be a high-ranking fire-eater for all she knew, or cared!

  “Anyway, I’m glad we did send the scans, because as it turns out, he noticed something that we didn’t–something curious.”

  “Like what?” Abby’s gaze was drawn once again to the light-box displaying the scans.

  “See here?” the doctor indicated a tiny blur just to the left of the injury he’d shown her before. “It indicates some additional trauma–older trauma. Now, we’ve checked your medical records, and there’s no sign of you presenting or being treated here for any such head wound in recent years. Any idea what it is, or when it might have occurred?”

  “No idea at all,” Abby replied, unable to recall such a thing. She glanced at her mother who seemed just as clueless.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” The doctor seemed to be watching her closely, almost as if he expected her to come up with an explanation.

  “Well, our concerns are–or rather Doctor Franklin’s concerns are–that this older trauma which occurred in the same vicinity as the new one, could very well have a bearing on how this newer injury manifests itself.

  “What does that mean?” Teresa asked.

  The doctor looked directly at Abby. “Well, the only thing we can be absolutely sure of is that your long-term memory will suffer.”

  She felt her heart rate speed up. “Suffer in what way?”

  “Well, as I said, it’s difficult to explain, but to try and make you understand how the hippocampus works let me use an analogy. Think of the hippocampus as a bridge. On one side, you have all your long term memories, and on the other your short-term memories. Now, when your brain creates a new memory–a short term one–it needs to pass over the bridge into your long-term memory in order for you to retain it, and recall it whenever you need to. Are you with me so far?”

  Abby nodded.

  “But this most recent trauma has damaged the bridge, put a crack in it as such. So when new memories want to cross to the long-term side, they need to get across the crack. Some of them however may fall in.”

  Her eyes widened. “Fall in? Fall in where?”

  “As I said, this is purely for explanatory purposes it isn’t intended as scientific fact,” the doctor said, a little impatiently. “What I’m trying to illustrate is that some of your memories may not end up on the other side or if they do, you might have trouble getting them back ie recalling them. Which means that while you can easily form new memories and send them across the bridge, we have no way of knowing what you’ll be able to get back.”

  Abby stared at the scans, unable to take this in. She had a mental picture of an old stone bridge with a huge crack in it, and all her memories falling through it.

  “But what has the older injury got to do with this?” Teresa asked. “Will it make things worse or …?”

  “No, the newer injury is really the root of the problem, but the older one may yet have a part to play. We’re just not sure at the moment. Again, there are no certainties when it comes to the human brain. I really wish there were.” The doctor walked round to his desk, and opened the drawer. “I’m discharging you tomorrow, but from here on in what I need is for you to monitor yourself over the next couple of days and weeks, let us know if you notice anything out of the ordinary, any temporary blackouts things like that.”

  A rod of panic travelled through Abby. “What?” she cried terrified. “I could have Alzheimer’s and you want to just send me home!”

  Not that she had much of a clue about the disease other than what she’d learned from TV and books and such-like, but right then Abby couldn’t help but picture herself standing in the local shop dressed in her nightclothes, confused and wondering how she got there–things like that. And seeing as she lived alone, there would be no one around to keep an eye on her, no one to prevent her doing things like that, no one to help her…

  The doctor quickly moved to appease her fears.

  “Abby, as I said, that really isn’t the case. Yes, you will almost certainly suffer some form of memory … displacement … shall we say, but nothing as serious as Alzheimer’s. While can see the damage to the hippocampus on the scans, we can’t really tell how severe that damage is, or if it’s progressive. That’s the thing about the brain, Abby–it’s the most complex part of the body, and yet still the part that we know the least about.”

  He handed her a card. “You remember the doctor that came to see you the first day, Doctor O’Neill? She may have already told you that she’s a neuropsychologist, specialising in TBI–Traumatic Brain Injury. She’ll help you make sense of the day-to-day impact of all of this in a way we can’t, and also, she’ll be able to monitor any changes that may occur from now on. You haven’t noticed anything different yet?”

  “Definitely not. I’m tired and I’ve been getting some headaches but …”

  “Very common following TBI,” Morrison said, nodding sagely. “Just keep an close eye on yourself for the next while, until I talk to you again, OK?”

  Abby took the card he gave her and read the details on it. She didn’t like the idea of having to go and consult with yet another person, another doctor who would have an opinion on what might happen next and how she should deal with it.

  She just couldn’t believe this; as far as she was concerned, she
felt fine! Yes, there was a little bit of pressure in her head, and she was depressed about having to miss work and having to stay on in the hospital, but other than that she felt perfectly normal.

  But hadn’t the doctor already admitted that he and that so-called American ‘expert’ were only second-guessing what might or might not happen? Chances were they were overanalysing the extent of this injury, and she could very well turn out to be fine.

  “But at the same time, there might be nothing at all wrong with me?” she asked, pleading with him to give her at least a semblance of hope. “I mean, none of this might happen at all, right?”

  “Perhaps so, but it’s unlikely …” the doctor fudged, and Abby didn’t like the grim set of his jaw, nor the very obvious doubt in his eyes.

  Chapter 7

  Finn Maguire was in a hurry and Lucy wasn’t helping. The ceremony was due to start at two-thirty and there she was, still lingering over lunch, not a care in the world.

  “Luce, hurry up and finish that, will you? We’ll be late.”

  Lucy looked up and with a barely imperceptible sigh, sulkily walked out of the room.

  “Oh, come on–there’s no need to be like that, is there?” he called after her. “You know what the traffic’s like; it could take us an hour to get there.”

  Actually an hour would be good going, despite the fact that they only had to travel twelve miles. But knowing the M50, the journey to the school in Blanchardstown could take that and longer. And he’d heard on the radio this morning that they were carrying out road works on the route which meant that they really needed to get going pronto, so Lucy acting up was the last thing he needed at the moment.

  He grabbed a jacket and stole a quick look at his reflection in the hallway mirror on the way out, realising then that he’d forgotten to run a brush through his hair and it was now sticking up in thick, dark clumps all over his head. Blast it anyway, Finn thought, trying to smooth it down, and thinking it was a very good thing that he and Lucy had to make themselves look presentable only now and again.

  While she looked fantastic after a stint in the salon the day before, he was very definitely letting the side down, what with his sticky-out hair and a five-year-old suit that was crying out to be replaced. It was in fact a blessing that he’d even remembered to shave this morning, so unused was he to dressing up for formal gatherings like these. It had been what, a year, eighteen months since the last one?

  Having done his best with his unruly hair, Finn locked the front door and went outside to where Lucy was waiting patiently alongside the Jeep.

  Now his heart melted at the sight of her downcast expression, and for the first time that day he reminded himself that even though this was a celebration, at the same time it might not be so easy for her. Maternal instinct and all that.

  “Hey, I’m sorry for shouting at you, OK?” he said, unlocking the car and letting her in the passenger seat. “I was in a hurry and it’s getting late, and you know how I much I hate being late, don’t you?”

  Refusing to meet his eye, Lucy settled herself on the front seat.

  OK, so he wasn’t getting away with it that easily today, Finn thought with a sigh.

  He started the engine, deciding he was probably better off just staying quiet and letting her sulk away to herself a while. She’d snap out of it–eventually.

  They were halfway to the school before he spoke again; the traffic from Balbriggan to Dublin–much to Finn’s satisfaction–being pretty light for a Friday morning, road works notwithstanding.

  “I know these things can be hard for you Luce, hell they’re hard for me too in a way, but it’ll be a great day, and you should be very proud. This is what–the fourth of these things we’ve been to, and not one of our lot have ever failed to make the grade, have they?”

  He glanced sideways at her to see if his words were having any effect, but Lucy continued staring straight forward, her gaze fixated on the road in front.

  “I know you’ll miss them; I’ll miss them too, but they’re at the age now where they need to make their own way in the world. And they’ll be fine; you and I have made sure of that, haven’t we?”

  But it seemed there was still no consoling poor Lucy today. Fully-grown adults or not, at the moment she was still missing her babies, although Finn knew that this would change once the ceremony took place, and she realised just how much they’d achieved and what a good job she and Finn had done in helping them get there.

  “You’re the best – you know that don’t you?” he said, reaching across and touching her gently on the shoulder, wishing again that instead of nagging her to hurry up, he’d had the good sense to try and understand what she might be going through.

  Still there was nothing he could do or say now, he thought, pulling into the school gates. They were here, and judging from the number of people milling outside the main hall, the ceremony was just about to begin.

  “Finn–up here! I’ve saved a seat for you!” As he and Lucy entered the hall, Finn looked up to see his colleague Angela waving at them from the front row.

  Ignoring a deep sigh (for some reason Lucy had never really taken to Angela), he made his way through the crowds to where she sat.

  “Hey,” he said, taking the chair alongside her. “Thanks for that. Busy here today, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is. Did you two get a chance to see the guys beforehand? Are they all really excited?”

  Finn fixed her with a look and muttered out of the corner of mouth. “No, I always think it’s better for Lucy that we don’t.”

  “Oh, of course, silly me.” She looked apologetically at Lucy, who again steadfastly ignored her. “And I suppose we don’t want them getting too excited either do we?”

  “No.”

  Evidently sensing some tension, Angela sensibly decided to change the subject. “But don’t you scrub up well!” she said, flashing Finn a flirtatious grin. “Great suit.”

  “Thanks,” Finn self-consciously loosened his tie. “Em … so do you.”

  Angela did indeed look well in a clinging black dress with a disconcertingly low neckline that Finn wasn’t entirely sure was suitable for the occasion. Still, what did he know? His fashion knowledge extended to his work attire of mostly jeans and T-shirts, and as social outings were pretty much limited to occasions like this or the odd night out in the pub, he couldn’t really comment on whether or not Angela had got it right. Women like her were a bit of an enigma as far as he was concerned.

  “Thanks–and I’m so glad I remembered at the last minute to wear waterproof mascara.”

  “Waterproof mascara?”

  She opened her handbag and took out a small packet of tissues. “For the ceremony of course. I always end up bawling at these things, don’t you?”

  But Finn had no time to reply, as just then a voice he recognised as Brendan O’Sullivan’s spoke softly through the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to welcome you to what is always a hugely important event in our calendar. Today’s graduates have studied hard to get where they are, and are now ready to tackle any challenges the world throws their way. We’re gathered here now to celebrate their achievements, and to set them on the road to even greater things.” He paused and looked to his right, before smiling. “I’m going to introduce them to you now, but for the benefit of those members of our audience in attendance for the first time, can I remind you not to applaud for fear of upsetting or unsettling them.”

  Finn nodded approvingly at this. Brendan had forgotten to make this announcement last time, and the applause had really distracted some.

  “So without further ado, I’d like to introduce to you, in alphabetical order– ” As Brendan began calling out the names, Finn laid a gentle hand on Lucy’s head, “Marie, Maisie, Martin, Michael, Michelle, Molly and Morris!”

  When the first one appeared, there was a brief clap from someone who’d obviously forgotten Brendan’s earlier warning, or who’d got so carried away by the sight o
f the graduates that they couldn’t help themselves.

  And, Finn realised, there was also a brief whimper from Lucy who obviously recognised her ‘babies’ and as each walked on in turn (and to his great relief) she moved her tail every so slightly, until eventually when all three had emerged, she stood up on all fours and wagged it effusively.

  Lucy and Finn watched proudly as Marie, Michelle and Morris–the ones they’d come here to see–one-by-one turned and quietly stood to attention alongside their fellow graduates.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Brendan continued with a flourish. “I’m delighted to present to you the Leinster Guide Dogs Trainee class of 2008, now fully qualified and today to be officially presented to their new partners for which all of us here at the training centre hope will be a long and mutually fulfilling companionship!”

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

  Once the official graduation ceremony was over, Finn attached Lucy’s leash to her collar, and went outside to where the newly inaugurated guide dogs were chasing and wrestling with one another on the grass, their ex-trainers and their proud new partners surveying them from the sidelines. Now off duty, the younger dogs were making the most of what would probably be their last few hours together as a group, before each in turn went home with their visually impaired partners.

  It was a wonderful day and a true validation of the work that Finn and his fellow trainers at the Leinster Guide Dog Centre carried out from year to year. There was nothing more satisfying than taking a seemingly mischievous puppy and grooming it to become a worthwhile and essential aid to the visually impaired. But while Finn, like most of his colleagues at the centre, had a huge affection for each and every dog they trained, he also had an additional attachment to some, in particular the ones that Lucy had given birth to. A retired assistance dog of some years, Lucy’s even temperament and incredible intelligence made her an ideal candidate for the centre’s breeding programme, and she’d so far produced three different litters who had gone on to become model trainees.