Stolen Memories

By Sherry Hart

Jane Doe awakens in a hospital room without any memory. Several attempts are made on her life, so with self defense training and two sexy hunks Jane vows to continue her life in spite of her bullet proof vest she wears beneath her designer clothing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherry Hart
• Release date: Mar 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458005977

Sherry Hart

Sherry Hart resides in Florida with her husband Hartley. She has two daughters, Deidra and Wendy. Stolen Memories is Sherry’s fourth novel. This unpublished book was a so-called “Bucket List” project in which she sent friends and family a personal copy to read. It became number one on her Bucket List and you the reader have become number two. I truly hope you enjoy the story and laugh out loud as you turn the pages and also sob with a box of tissues resting beside you. Enjoy.

Book preview

Stolen Memories

by

Sherry Hart

Published by:

Sherry Hart on Smashwords

Stolen Memories Copyright © 2008 Sherry Hart

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks . . .

To my loving husband for his tenacious confidence.

You are the best part of my life.

Darlin, I love you more as time goes by.

To my daughters Deidra and Wendy for their enthusiasm,

immeasurable love and unwavering support.

I am enormously proud and fortunate to have you both in my life.

To my parents who I hope are looking down at me and smiling.

You remain in my heart and in my thoughts.

To mom and dad for caring for me and accepting me as a daughter.

Thanks for an extraordinary ride. I miss you still.

To my family and friends who from afar praised me and showered me with oceans of optimism.

I am extremely lucky to have you all in my corner.

Chapter 1

I pried opened my weighty eyes and glanced all around the unfamiliar room without any visible movement from my dormant head. My bulging eyes skillfully scanned every inch of the colorless room from left to right and top to bottom. With the sun shining through the verticals on my right, everything was extremely bright and could only be described as a very boring and monotonous snow white blob. According to my brief yet perceptive observation, I suspected that I was lying comfortably within the confines of a hospital room. The bed beside me was empty with no detectable signs of occupancy. It appears that I am the exclusive tenant in this very pallid and lifeless room. The high table beside my bed has no cards, flowers or personal possessions. Except for the lonely pitcher of water, a matching blue plastic cup and an unopened box of tissues sitting there idly, the table is bare and contains no merriment. Now that my table has been noticed and appreciated, it is time to move on to more important matters. How did I get here? And more important, what happened to me?

I appeared to be in tact as I embarked on administering a vigilant and methodical examination of my body for some slight reassurance. There were no signs of major surgery and there were no tubes pumping serious and nasty solutions into my helpless carcass. I had no pain except for a headache and a slight twinge on my left wrist that was bandaged with a simple short gauze wrap. Of course the bandage and tape were monotonous white. To further test my present capabilities, I moved my arms from side to side while my fingers playfully fluttered in the air. According to my shrewd calculations, my upper limbs were working flawlessly.

Next I tested my legs and toes that remained hidden beneath the sheet and cotton blanket. There was definitely movement under there and with feeling. I was pleased to learn that my colorful fingers and hidden toes all seemed to be functioning properly. At least my shiny pastel nail polish added a bit of color to this drab vicinity. Perhaps I’m insane and permanently residing within the walls of a mental institution. On second thought, I should probably continue my search for some promising signs of a recent injury. Something on my body must hurt besides my head and possibly a sprained wrist.

There was a white terrycloth bathrobe draped across the end of my bed. Gingerly I sat up and grabbed the robe. The sight of my bright tangerine toe nail polish brought a sudden smile to my face. Nice choice of color, I thought. My tanned bare feet touched the cold white tile floor ever so slowly, just in case. It was a tremendous relief to learn that I could actually stand on my own and walk without any assistance. I put the oversized, knee length robe over my scanty cotton cover-up and strolled over to the window beside the spare bed. It was a beautiful sunny day and the rear lawn was filled with the most appealing palm trees of various shapes and sizes. Of course this tropical view set before me would undeniably rule out any and all theories of a recent skiing accident.

At a snail's pace, I turned and walked into the bathroom located in the middle of the room. There was a small mirror above the sink which immediately caught my eye. I became startled and confused for a moment upon viewing the unknown silhouette that stood before me. My brain dozed off as I stared in silence with my mouth partially open. To be perfectly honest, my mouth was awkwardly more than partially open. Who was that woman in the mirror? She was not familiar at all. How is it possible for a person not to recognize their own reflection? Am I under the influence of a potent sedation? I’m quite certain that it is my reflection for our flimsy and childish movements are identical.

After blinking my eyes rather quickly and jumping up and down, my little juvenile visual test proved positive. This mysterious face before me was indeed my very own reflection. Okay, the truth hurts and yet we have to face it. I must be residing in a mental institution. I’m insane and I most likely injured my wrist while banging my fists against the wall in a violent temperamental rage. According to my left wrist, the walls were the victor in my recent foggy frenzy. Not believing my own eyes, I leaned closer to the small wall fixture with hopes of recognizing something about the stranger in my reflection. It was apparent that this was not going well at all.

Subsequent to examining every inch of my face and frame, I came to the sad and shocking conclusion that I had no idea who was staring back at me. No idea at all. I leaned even closer with my nose practically touching the glass. My warm breath fogged the bottom portion of the mirror as I spoke. Who are you? What are you doing here? How old are you? What are your favorite foods? Well the food issue really wasn’t that important even though my stomach signaled a flashing red light to notify me that it was unquestionably time to refuel.

Being ever so daring, I tiptoed over to the door and peeked out into the hall. It was filled with hustling nurses and patients in wheel chairs being escorted, most likely for shock treatments on another floor within the institution. There was no QUARANTINE sign on my door, therefore I inhaled a deep breath and decided to venture out a bit further. Casually, in my tangerine bare feet, I perused the halls and to my surprise, no one seemed to mind. Could aliens have taken over my cadaver as a cruel joke? Could I possibly be invisible? After remembering the details of the face in the mirror, I scratched that alternative off my infantile mental list. Once again, that was a poor selection of words on my part. What kind of a mental institution is this? Actually, how many varieties are there? I wondered.

There were two elevators located at the end of the hall and one of the doors magically opened, spread its shiny silver arms and cordially invited me in as I approached. With nothing to lose, I stepped inside the small metal cubicle, smiled at those standing around me and down I went, being carried off to the main floor. The well mannered and polite double front doors in the lobby automatically sprung open as I advanced, and out I went into the unbearable heat and humidity. Boy was it hot out there, especially in a warm terrycloth robe. Luckily the grass felt cool beneath my bare feet as I strolled over to a small cement bench erected a few feet away from the main doors. After I plopped myself down, I crossed my arms and took in the refreshing scenery. It was a tad more bearable sitting in the shade as long as you continued to take elongated deep breaths.

As tranquil as the picture before me seemed, there were people constantly flowing in and out of the institution. There wasn’t a lot of chatter and when people were conversing, they kept their voices very low. I heard mostly groans from the incoming elderly victims. Most of the patients were using walkers, canes and crutches and many were being pushed in wheel chairs. Those that arrived in an ambulance were rapidly taken into the building strapped to a gurney. In this intense heat, it was no revelation to witness their donned oxygen tanks. I had to consider myself extremely lucky to be able to walk so beautifully and unassisted.

My eyes drifted upward when I looked at the windows. There were no bars! Could I have been mistaken earlier? Perhaps this is a normal hospital after all and not a mental institution. If that is the case and I am not insane, why am I a patient here? With mental illness temporarily ruled out, my next assumption would be a serious and perhaps fatal illness. My breathing was somewhat rapid, yet I attributed that factor to the amazing heat and my warm attire rather than a rare and untreatable disease. A patient exposed to a contagious or infectious disease would be isolated to prevent the spread of the virus. That is common sense, right? And they would most likely feel poorly or display some signs of the illness.

I concentrated on my breathing pattern, my heart rate and went on to examine my skin. There were no visible rashes, and I felt damn good. Of course a tall iced drink right now would make me feel even better. In addition, a cool wet towel would be comforting and appreciated. Another ambulance pulled up to the door as I watched attentively. I looked up and read the name of the hospital. It was the Boca Raton Medical Hospital. At least it did not say institution! That was quite a relief. I think. Whatever I have is not painful. I wonder if my time on this earth is limited. What if I have a fatal disease with mere days to live? Actually, what would I do if this was my last day on earth? The first thing would be to get into some cooler clothing! I’m still working on the second thing.

While fanning myself with my right hand, I noticed a heavy nurse strolling slowly in my direction. My first thought was that her thick white stockings must be very hot. The second observation was that her hefty breasts were dancing up and down as she walked across the lawn. Actually I did notice her full breasts first for they seem to be struggling to free themselves from her bulging uniform. Next I silently questioned the strength of those tiny white buttons. As she came closer, I smiled and nodded my head as an amusing and amiable acknowledgement. Graciously I moved over to free more room on the bench for this robust woman who was approaching.

The nurse stopped in front of me, leaned closer, touched my shoulder and sympathetically inquired, Are you okay honey? I hated to begin our friendship with a complaint about the heat therefore I simply smiled and replied, I’m perfectly fine unless of course you tell me otherwise. The nurse grinned in a doting sort of way and added in a mothering manner, You must be hungry sweetie. You are late for lunch. Would you like me to take you back inside? She was good! Real good! Now this woman was reading my mind. Food is exactly what I needed right now. Lead the way!

My name is Linda. Do you know your name honey? I could clearly read her name tag pinned to her bursting uniform therefore I assumed she was either checking my eyesight or my educated reading skills. Feeling somewhat silly, I honestly replied, I don’t remember my name. It will probably come to me later. Perhaps it is written on my chart. My room number is 322 on the third floor. Would you mind terribly if I ate first? I would be more than happy to discuss names after lunch.

Nurse Linda escorted me back into the hospital with her arm placed strategically under my right arm as though it was necessary to assist me. Perhaps she knows something I don’t know. And at this point, I did not know much at all. As long as she knows where the food is, Linda will be okay in my book. I allowed my good friend to lead the way. As soon as we passed the front double doors I experienced a welcome wave of cool refreshing air. It felt absolutely wonderful. Linda pressed the button on the elevator wall and we ended up back on the third floor. Had I known the food was there, I never would have left.

The nurse efficiently lowered my bed and sat me down. Moments later she returned with a wet cloth, some towels and dry cotton pajamas. I wiped my face and neck while she cleaned the bottom of my feet and applied a moisturizing cream and some slipper socks with rubber strips on the bottom. The hospital pajamas Linda supplied were less revealing than my recent flimsy paisley frock. I felt much better, cleaner and cooler. After walking back over to the window, I discovered how this nurse found me so quickly. She stood right here and merely looked outside. Pretty clever.

Nurse Linda walked over to my chart that was clipped at the end of my bed and held it up. Does that say what my name is? She looked at me with obvious regret. Honey, this chart says your name is Jane Doe. You did not have any identification on you and we do not know what your real name is. We were hoping you could tell us. We have capable people working on it so you have nothing to worry about. You must be starving you poor thing. Now, what would you like to eat? More questions with no immediate answers. At least they were perfectly willing to feed me.

I don’t know what I like or what you have. I can’t remember my favorite foods. Why don’t you surprise me? I would love a nice cold iced drink though. Linda left my door wide open as she quickly disappeared down the hall to fill my request. I straightened up, stared at my chart and speculated. What is going on here? There must be some person out there that knows me. My eyes remained glued to my chart on the clipboard. A curious and impatient woman can only sit and wonder to a point. I had already reached that point and it was razor sharp!

After contemplating for about five full seconds I jumped off the chair and lifted my chart. Jane Doe was written at the top along with a doctor’s name. According to this informal document, Dr. Jordan Yannis seemed to be the head honcho around here. I was admitted at ten thirty last night after being involved in an automobile accident. Oh my. Was I alone in the car? What about the other car? I read further for more details and learned absolutely nothing. I am here because of an automobile accident and all I did was hurt my wrist. I’d say that was extremely lucky. Please, please do not let me find out that other people were injured last night or worse.

Why don’t I remember the accident? Perhaps I could be in a trauma unit where doctors are attempting to assist me in remembering the disaster. On the other hand, do I really want to recollect and re-live an appalling automobile accident? My shrewd guess would be no. I’m certain that the events of last night will return to me soon, whether or not I wish to remember. What I would like to know is my name and address. I can’t reside within the walls of a hospital waiting to regain my memory. My body froze when I corrected myself and added, if I regain my memory.

I walked into the bathroom to check out the mirror on the wall once again. Perhaps it would be my friend this time and divulge some hidden and helpful information. Then again, perhaps not. The mirror held no answers and the stranger before me remained with a blank expression. With raised eyebrows, I leaned closer and whispered, If you do not remember your name kid, you had better learn to live with the name Jane Doe.

I studied my drab hair style, the color and the length. Not being overly impressed, I began to comb through my locks with my fingers. No matter what style I tried, it looked the same. Why would Jane put blonde streaks in her hair to look older? The shade of brown she selected wasn’t that great either. This style may be good enough for Jane Doe although I would prefer a radical modification. After all, we both have to agree on our appearance. Or do we? I imagine the person holding all the cards should make the final decisions. Is that me? And so another question was added to my mental list. Luckily I could use that word mental more freely now.

A young girl entered my room with a tray filled with food. She checked the room number and my chart before placing it on the table beside my bed. I walked over and politely thanked her. As soon as she left, I jumped into bed and began to pour the bottle of iced tea into the cup filled with cubes. Once my thirst had been satisfied, I uncovered the plate and viewed a chicken breast, baked potato and string beans. Two lonely slices of rye bread occupied another covered plate. My rations of likes and dislikes were all set aside in order to satisfy my ongoing hunger pains. I felt as though I had not had any morsels of food in days. If memory serves me, which at present it does not, I would not know that very probable fact.

The food was bland yet agreeable. In record time, I cleaned the plate, gulped down the bread, ate the two chocolate chip cookies and tossed down the red gelatin. I don’t know about the stranger in the mirror however I did know that at this moment Jane Doe was extremely content. After a huge fulfilling sigh, I lied back on my bed, crossed my legs, looked up at the ceiling and smiled. Jane Doe was certainly feeling much better and ready to enjoy a few well deserved forty winks. Perhaps after a little snooze Jane will be thinking more clearly. Maybe she will open her eyes and her entire family will be standing together and smiling right in front of her bed. I crossed my fingers on both hands before dozing off.

As soon as I closed my eyes and began to nod off, I felt a hand gently shaking my right shoulder. After opening one eye, I focused on a blurry man standing beside my bed wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard. It was my chart. Before I opened my other stubborn eye, this man beside me introduced himself. Had he said his name was John Doe I would have jumped up and laughed hysterically! Wrong again! His name was Dr. Jordan Yannis and he was here for his afternoon visit. Dr. Yannis seemed polite enough although not certain of what to say to me. His speech was slow and precise. It was too slow and too precise. Wherever I grew up, they talked much faster and got to the point much quicker. Why waste time?

I stared at the doctor’s limited white fuzzy hair which generously grew only above both his ears. The top and back of his head were completely bald. Immediately, I knew this man was not making the correct statement. Women on the other hand are a completely different species. Has this man ever looked into a mirror and actually studied himself? Does he realize what other people are looking at? More important, does he even care? I had to force my eyes to look away from this man’s head in order to concentrate on his dawdling words. It was a tremendous challenge on my part especially when he moved his head while speaking. Concentrate Jane, this is not a game.

I was in the emergency room when you were brought in last night. Do you remember anything at all about the accident? Did he ever think of just shaving the remainder of his white fuzzy locks? It would be a tremendous improvement. Okay, cool it Jane. Be serious. I looked this man straight in the eye and honestly stated, I do not remember the accident, my name or even my face for that matter. I have no idea where I live, nor can I come up with one single thing about my life. It is all a complete mystery to me. So I imagine the ball is in your court, doctor.

Dr. Yannis shook his shiny head, dragged a chair over to my bed and sat down. He crossed his leg, sighed out loud, scratched his head and began his medical dialogue. I have already preformed X-rays, scans and blood work on you. Except for some contusions on your left wrist, a bump on the head and your loss of memory, you seem to be in good shape. With a rather poor imitation, I crossed my leg on the bed, scratched my head, sighed out loud and replied a bit sarcastically, Well, that is certainly a relief doctor.

My child-like humor did not change the tone of this man’s voice or his findings. Once he was aware that I was indeed paying attention, he went on with his dismal summation. There are several different kinds of amnesia. Due to the serious automobile accident and the tests that were done, I believe you have dissociative amnesia formerly called psychogenic amnesia. It is one of a group of conditions or breakdowns of memory, consciousness or awareness, identity and/or perception which are mental functions that normally operate smoothly. When one or more of these functions is disrupted, symptoms can result. This particular type of amnesia occurs when a person blocks out certain information, usually associated with a stressful or traumatic event, leaving him or her unable to remember important personal information.

After my more serious heavy sigh, he continued. Dissociative amnesia is not the same as simple amnesia, which involves a loss of information from the memory, usually as the result of disease or injury to the brain. With dissociative amnesia, the memories still exist but are deeply buried within the person’s mind and cannot be recalled. However, these memories might resurface on their own or after being triggered by something in the person’s surroundings. Doctor, could we please skip to the bottom line? When will I regain my memory? Now it was the doctor’s turn to sigh. The outlook depends on several factors, including the person’s life situation, the availability of support systems and the individual’s response to treatment. For most people with dissociative amnesia, memory returns with time, making the overall outlook very good. I thought that finally sounded a little more positive to me. Thank you.

Then the tides changed out of the blue. In some cases however, the individuals are never able to retrieve their buried memories. Okay, so that did not sound promising. After he finished his response, I sat there wondering if all that pieced together was good news or bad news. Those informative words certainly captured my complete attention. I was absolutely stunned. Jane, I want you to relax and close your eyes for me. Now concentrate. How could I possibly concentrate on anything when he just called me Jane? Picture something peaceful like several palm trees swaying back and forth in the wind. Now Jane, what is the last thing you remember? This doctor did it again. He called me Jane.

No matter how hard I concentrated, everything remained a complete blank. I know how to walk and talk and I was able to read Nurse Linda’s name tag. I remember pizza although I don’t know if I like it. And then there is chocolate even though I do not remember the exciting flavor. Am I on vacation in Florida or do I actually live here in this unbearable heat? Am I retired? Hey, I must belong to someone. I must have a family. Panic was invading my body as much as I pretended to be calm and unruffled. What if I never regain my memory? What then? This did not look good for the stranger in the mirror.

My head filled with questions and logic. Isn’t there anyone out there looking for me? I’m sure I am late for dinner in some lovely tropical home. Who ever you are or where ever you are, please, please come and find me. I promise to be good and with no sarcasm. I looked at my long fingers and wondered if my mother had the identical hands. Why wasn’t she searching for me? She must have noticed that I was missing, by now. How long does a person hide and remain in their room? Hours? Days? My partial humor was abruptly flushed away in an instant. I looked at the doctor sitting beside me, lowered my shoulders and sadly uttered, I remember waking up in this bed. That’s my first memory. I guess I am in deep trouble. Do you have any suggestions doctor? I’m all ears.

Dr. Yannis smiled at me and then he scribbled some additional notes on my chart. It would have been nice if his doodling revealed my name and address although I knew that was quite impossible. It was at that moment when I assumed all doctors went to school specifically to learn how to purposely write illegibly. I’m sure that was a course that this particular physician passed with flying colors. Why can’t I remember anything? Was the automobile accident so terrible that I blocked out my entire life? Do I have brothers and sisters? I must have parents some place. I am certain they are desperately looking for me. Please do not stop searching mom. Check all the hospitals. I’m sitting right here waiting for you.

According to the mirror in the bathroom, I am too young to spend my entire life in this hospital. And not to be a complainer, honestly the food here is not that great. I watched my doctor continue to write on my chart as my heart began to ache. Loneliness was not one of my favorite things and I was certain that Jane Doe shared the comparable sentiment. Help. If I can’t remember my past, I will most likely be stuck with the name Jane Doe and this mousey brown hair with blonde aging streaks. Again, why would a person want to look older? Jane did not have any answers to that one either. Come on Jane, you can do it. You can remember. Try harder girl. Do you really like wearing hospital clothes and itchy green slipper socks?

The doctor looked into my saddened eyes, listened to my broken heart and felt my lethargic pulse. I knew there were no answers hidden behind these insignificant tests. Okay Jane, it’s time to wake up, take charge and start spilling your guts. Come on girl, I know you can do it. Do you want to be stuck with the name Jane Doe for the rest of your life? And is white really your favorite color? I think not. As I watched my doctor continue to scribble his findings on my chart, I realized I was in a lot of trouble and desperately needed some help. What was going to happen to Jane Doe? More important, what was going to happen to me?

The doctor cleared his throat to gain my attention and he continued, I would like to prescribe a psychiatrist if that is agreeable with you. He may be able to help you remember. We do not have too many options here, Jane. I really think this is the best way to go. What do you think Jane? Are you listening to me? Jane, are you willing to see this doctor? There’s that name again, plain Jane. I exited my trance, forced a smile and added, As long as he tells me I love chocolate, its okay with me. I have had enough morbid news for one day. How can a person know that pizza and chocolate exist and not remember the flavor? How can a person forget their entire life and family? Sadly there were no answers to any of my questions.

I stared at the floor as jumbled questions crammed my head. My final and honest prognosis would be that I must be insane and perhaps this doctor should consider scribbling that probable diagnosis on Jane Doe’s chart. I could not speak for Jane Doe however I quickly learned that I was short of patience. How could this happen to me? What happened to my entire life? Has everything been erased? Am I late for work? Do I have a job? Perhaps I should ask if my boss will wait for me to return. Do I have a husband or a boyfriend out there? Why isn’t one or the other or both of them looking for me? I’m right here guys. Do not give up. Please come and find me. I stared at the unfamiliar hands resting on my lap as my eyes filled. I felt so completely lost and alone within a huge and alien world.

Jane, I am going to request that Dr. Askel Gudmund stops by to talk to you. He is an expert in his field and if anyone can help you, he is definitely the man. We also have a couple of detectives working on your case and they are checking all the missing person reports as we speak along with the license plate of your car. I noticed that you had hip surgery within the past two or three years. Your photo has been faxed to the local surgeons in this area. Perhaps they may be able to help.

Well that was news to me. I had surgery? A surgeon may remember you and may be of some valuable assistance. Jane, we are checking every loophole and will find out who you are. There is no need to panic or get depressed. You must be patient and hopeful. Now just relax and try not to think about anything. I will drop by to see you again later. Panic and depression were words I never would have thought of on my own. Thanks a lot doc. Jane Doe, who on earth are you? Do you want to experience panic and depression? If the reply is no, then wake up. Don’t you want to return to your loved ones? Hey, I would love to meet them. I’m certain they are all kind and loving people. Are you going to help me Jane? Well?

And when was my photo taken and faxed to other doctors? I certainly hope my mouth was closed and that I was presentable. Beneath the blanket, I felt the side of my left leg and there was no scar or any abnormalities. However the right side held much more in store. High on my leg was a long scar in the middle of some faintly uneven skin. It did not hurt to the touch. So Jane did have hip replacement surgery a while back. She must be much older than I imagined. I searched for other scars and there were none. Jane, Jane, you must take better care of yourself dear. How could such a thing happen to a person so young? You are young, aren’t you Jane? Those nasty streaks were intentional, right?

Luckily there were no tattoos discovered during my more intensive search. I hopped off the bed and in my bare feet I dragged the chair across the floor and over to the window. Outside, the palm trees were hardly moving. They were most likely saving their strength until sundown when it became a couple of degrees cooler out there. And I do mean a measly two degrees cooler! Does Jane like this intense heat with soaring humidity? Was she born in Florida? Come on Jane, hop to it. I would like to have some sort of a life even if it has to be lived in this unbearable heat.

No matter how hard I tried to relax, I could not get over the fact that I had no memory whatsoever. My brain was completely closed for business up there with no pending OPENING SOON signs. My daily schedule had no plans, no appointments, no job, no money, no hobbies, no family and no friends. There was no need for a calendar to record any exciting events.

I assumed the doctors would conveniently keep track of my medical appointments. Unless you regain your memory real soon Jane, life will be extremely long and boring for both of us. This is your fault Jane. You were not strong enough to deal with a serious problem on hand. Instead of splitting into another personality, you cowardly chose to forget your entire past. If it was up to you, you would have me lying on a couch at weekly sessions for the rest of my life. And I did not do anything. You did!

A young teenager wearing a red striped apron entered my room and cleared her throat daintily as a polite signal to interrupt my upsetting thoughts. I turned, smiled and waved. Is your name Jane Doe? Here we go again. It is for today sweetheart. What can I do for you? Miss Doe, will you please sign this paper on the bottom line? I have to return the form to the personnel office. It felt odd to sign a name that was totally unfamiliar to me. After the name Jane Doe was set on the designated line, I stared at my handwriting. Even that was totally foreign to me.

The young volunteer handed me a plastic bag as she explained the contents. These are your belongings. Could you please check and make sure everything is there? I didn’t know what to say. Someone said that honesty is the best policy, therefore I began. I do not remember what I was wearing so whatever you brought me will have to do. I’m sure it is all there. Thank you very much for taking care of my things and for bringing them to me. She smiled and left the room reluctantly. At the last minute she turned and added, I hope you feel better Miss Doe. Have a good day.

The clear plastic bag revealed a wrinkled print garment soiled with scattered blood stains. I assumed it was my blood, not that I would recognize it any time soon. I opened the bag and held up the sleeveless dress. The tag in the back of the neck revealed that it was a Nicole Miller dress and it was a Size 6. My eyes were locked on the dress that Jane Doe had selected to wear only yesterday, a day that seemed so very far away. The pastel crocheted jacket had the name Joshipura printed on a silk label on the neck. The matching white lace bra and panties had the label Cosabella printed inside. This was not summer camp. Was I actually expecting to find my name printed on these tags?

There was no purse or any accessories and yet everything had a name on it and looked as though it was fairly new. It was difficult to imagine any woman who would not complete such an outfit with jewelry and a handbag. Did she purposely omit the jewelry? And where is that designer handbag? Where is Jane Doe’s wallet with her identification? Why would any woman leave home without cash, a credit card and a lipstick? And where is her house key?

The bone platform sandals had the name Valentino clearly marked inside. The shoes looked brand new. Again, everything had a name on it except yours truly. I returned to bed, held the clothing across my lap and dozed off. Soon afterwards I was awakened by another hand shaking my shoulder. Was it hospital policy to wake a patient as soon as they drifted off? I was beginning to question that astute observation. One eye opened and then the other joined in on the viewing. This was definitely becoming a habit around here. Wasn’t I supposed to be relaxing?

Beside me stood a short senior citizen with a shaky hand that held a yellow sealed trembling envelope. Are you Jane Doe? Here we go again. Yes, I imagine I am. Could you sign on line four please? Now this was getting to be an annoying routine. Miss Doe, this is the jewelry you were wearing when you arrived in the emergency room last night. Would you please check and make certain that everything is there? The word jewelry instantly perked me up. I refused to go through my gloomy saga again, therefore after peeking inside the envelope I looked up and politely said, Yes, everything seems to be here. Thank you very much. Here is my card in case you have any questions or remember any other missing pieces. I hope you feel better dear.

Once the unsteady woman exited the room, I peeked inside the envelope more carefully. Slowly and with bulging eyes, I retrieved a large Concord watch, a gold chain necklace, a pair of dangle earrings and a gold and silver cuff bracelet. Why did I feel a tinge of disappointment when I discovered that there were no rings in the bag? Didn’t Jane wear any rings? There are a multitude of wedding rings and engagement rings in so many different styles. Do the missing rings answer some questions Jane? I studied each piece of jewelry in a futile attempt to remember my past. To enlarge them in my sleeping brain and further focus, I held them close to my face. Nothing worked. I not only did not remember any of the pieces in the envelope, I still did not remember me.

There was a separate small envelope marked toe rings which induced a huge smile while I tore it open with a burst of enthusiasm. There were six assorted sizes and styles of tiny hoops all tied together with a piece of adhesive tape. According to my tanned feet, only three toes sported these dazzling gold rings. Okay, Jane Doe, now this is more like it. This is what I have been talking about. You rock girl! You are my new idol. Somehow I was familiar with those expressions and liked the sound of them. And I thought Jane Doe was just another pretty face with mousy brown hair. Boy was I ever wrong. Do you have any other surprises for me, Jane? Come on girl; spill it, anything at all. I am eagerly awaiting your news. Well?

As soon as I selected the right size toe rings for the correct toes, I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my dangling feet with a huge smile. Why was I so pleased with myself? After all, Jane Doe selected these gold ornaments, not me. My worries had temporarily evaporated as I gazed at my dancing feet in motion. Jane Doe wore nice clothing. It was an outfit I might have even selected for myself. The earrings could have been a tad larger but they were very attractive and in good taste. The man’s watch was a nice touch however my eyes widened at the sight of the cuff bracelet. Nice taste Jane! Did you buy this yourself? And of course Jane Doe would wear open sandals to show off her recent pedicure and glitzy tanned feet.

After plumping up my bed pillows, I leaned back and stared at my toes until my lids once again became heavy and disinterested. What else was there to do in a hospital besides eat and sleep? I did marvel at the obvious fact that Jane did not carry a handbag to complete her impressive summer outfit. In addition, according to the noticeable tan line on my left leg, an anklet often resided there. Jane did not carry a wallet or any form of identification. If she was driving a car, isn’t that against the law? My next thought was what kind of a car did Jane Doe drive? Say that quickly ten times! Please tell me that she at least has a legitimate driver’s license. Jane I really hope I do not have to clean up your mess. If so, how large of a mop will I require? Will it be a mop for a small room, an entire house or perhaps a football stadium? Please wake up Jane and tell me that you are not in any trouble.

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Chapter 2

With a million thoughts invading my inactive brain, I began to doze off once again. Like I said, what else was there to do? It was a long and stressful day and according to the results, nothing at all had been accomplished. It was unpleasant to imagine living the rest of my life with no memory. I felt as though I came from another planet and was suddenly dropped onto this earth. The only reason these people around me are being nice is due to the same human likeness. Had there been an antenna sticking out of the top of my head, things would most likely be very different.

I was dreaming that another person stopped by and was shaking my shoulder. Actually I was praying it was a dream. I closed my eyes tighter with hopes it would quickly disappear. Oh no, it was not a dream at all. I suspected as much. It was another unfamiliar face wearing a white jacket and holding my ever so popular chart in his hand. By now, with my eyes firmly closed, I could have guessed exactly that. It is uncanny how patients in this hospital cannot get any rest at all.

Miss Doe, my name is Dr. Gudmund. I am a psychiatrist. Dr. Yannis asked me to look in on you. Have you remembered anything, anything at all? Not wanting to be rude, I attempted to respond without any heavy sighs. Actually doctor, I have not remembered a thing. I have learned that Jane Doe has nice taste and I have been simply fascinated with her gold toe rings. Great, here is another doctor with absolutely no sense of humor. What is this world coming to? Hey, look down doc. I am the patient here and the one in trouble and if I can laugh, you could at least be courteous enough to join me. Please try to humor me. I really could use the distraction.

It was at that precise moment when I asked myself if I had any medical insurance. Heaven only knows why I would even think along those lines at a time such as this. Nevertheless, who was paying for all my medical bills? Not me. I do not even know who me is. These big doctors do not work for nothing. That monetary thought certainly erased whatever humor I temporarily possessed. I imagine I should take these baby steps one at a time. The first thing is to find out who I am. Once that mystery is solved, then we can concentrate on the vast medical bills and payments.

Dr. Gudmund was a fairly nice looking young doctor. The first thing I noticed was his full head of thick black curly hair. He had a great build and a strong wide neck. I assumed he visited the gym on a weekly basis. When I say visit, I mean he actually toted his bulging muscles inside and worked out with exceptionally heavy weights. Actually if I could change anything about this good looking doctor, it would probably be his name. On second thought, I would add that tawdry necktie of his to the list. That’s enough Jane. Be kind. This man is here to help you. Let him do his job.

First of all Jane, I would like to assure you that you are perfectly safe and secure here. According to the tests Dr. Yannis ordered, everything was normal. There were no toxins or drugs in your blood work. We are ruling out a physical illness, brain disease, alcohol intoxication and sleep deprivation – all which can lead to symptoms similar to those of dissociative disorders, including amnesia. Of course a head injury falls into the same category. I really do not consider the small bump on your head a major injury however that is your only injury aside from your bruised left wrist.

My head was spinning. Please slow down doctor. Tiny steps for this lost little baby, please. I tried not to listen to his words but my ears had other ideas. It annoyed me to think that this young doctor standing before me has the nerve to charge me a huge fee after instilling all this fear and depression during one single visit. Is that what a psychiatrist does? No wonder this world is consuming daily anxiety pills.

Have you been experiencing any apprehension or depression lately? Did he mean since I woke up? The doctor finally paused as I magically slipped into a semi-depressed state. I stared at this man and did not utter one single word. The mere mention of severe illnesses, drugs, toxins and the rest of his lab work results pulled me down to an even lower state. I continued to sink deeper into gloominess. My limbs became heavy and I was unable to move. And if it were at all possible, I would run away and hide.

The doctor overlooked my silence and continued. There is no medication to treat the dissociative disorders themselves, however a patient that suffers from depression or anxiety might benefit from treatment with a medication such as an antidepressant or anti-anxiety medicine. The more he spoke, the lower I sank. Stop pushing your pills doc. I was not depressed until you entered my room. Earlier I was merely confused. Now I am both confused and depressed. Thanks a lot doc. Perhaps you should have stayed at the gym today.

How much worse can things possibly get? Or should I ask, how much more alarming news is this doctor going to reveal? Jane, according to your chart traumatic amnesia has been ruled out for you have no memory at all prior to the accident. I feel that whatever caused you to suddenly block out your memories and bury your personal information was an overwhelming trauma. With the facts we have put together, I must assume it was your automobile sinking into the canal. As soon as I heard those horrifying words my entire body became totally numb. My folded arms froze on my lap and my bulging eyes were super glued to a spot on the far wall.

The car I was driving was sinking into a canal. Did I hear that correctly? Can I swim? My legs felt as though they were suddenly stricken with a permanent paralysis. I was unable to move or speak. What canal? Why was the car sinking in water? Am I such a terrible driver? I could have drowned. Jane Doe could be looking down right now and admiring her loved ones breathing on earth. I assumed from her innocent appearance she would have gone to heaven. Jane was very lucky. Aside from the car sinking into the canal, the words were finally sinking into my head. Okay, I don’t know about Jane however I was a total wreck.

The terminology coming from the doctor’s lips echoed as though I had been instantly transported to the end of a long dark bloodcurdling tunnel. Please stop talking doctor. I have heard quite enough. My train of thought had disappeared along with my memory. My prized humor was now a thing of the past. I wanted to blurt out so many questions and yet all I could muster up was rapid breathing along with a sudden twitch in my right eye. My voice was not responding as my heavy head dipped forward to rest.

I envisioned myself wearing a hospital triple reinforced canvas straitjacket with long sleeved arms in the front and a huge buckle in the back. The name on the inside of the neck read, Property of the Boca Raton Institution for the Mentally Insane. One size fits all. And sadly my name remained Jane Doe. My automobile was really sinking into a canal? How did I get out? How did I get to this hospital? Someone must have more answers for me. Jane Doe is peacefully fast asleep and cannot be disturbed. I am left here all alone to deal with her confusing and horrifying problems. This lady had better be worth it. And she had better appreciate my efforts. Are you listening Jane? Are you? Speak!

Jane, Jane, why don’t you wake up and fight your own battles? At least you will know what the battle is all about and who to fight. My brain was continuing to spiral with alarming issues. There were questions I feared would never be answered. How sad to be all alone in the world with no one to love you and nothing to do. For a short time I considered getting a job at the hospital. It seemed easy enough to deliver personal items with a smile to all the patients. I could handle that menial task. Jane, you have had quite enough beauty sleep. Wake up already. I really need you on my side.

Jane, if you feel confused and you would like some medication to calm you, please let me know. I want you to feel completely safe and relaxed. In a low and foreign voice, I finally managed to speak. I do not need any medication doctor. Thank you. I must admit that I am a little confused. I’m not really depressed although I feel I have a good reason to be. Actually I don’t know how I am supposed to feel. All I know is that I am here with no memory. Let’s hope some people out there are looking for me.

The good doctor scribbled additional notes on my chart as he prepared to leave. If you need anything to help you sleep please let the nurses know. I will be back tomorrow to see you again. Sleep will automatically come as soon as a DO NOT DISTURB sign is posted on my door. This was worse than Grand Central Station. I think. With my mouth partially opened, I watched the white coat with the strong wide neck disappear from my room. Like the doctor said, I guess I should relax and be patient. I wondered if Jane Doe was a patient person. Probably not.

A cart parked outside my door was sending fumes of hot food floating through the air. A heavy nurse with half a smile brought in my dinner tray. She adjusted the high table above my bed. If you want any extra food or coffee or tea, just press the buzzer on your bed railing Jane. I’ll be happy to get it for you. She said my name so freely as though we grew up together. I forced a smile to be gracious.

It was quite a challenge getting used to everyone calling me Jane. And it was such a plain name. Poor old plain Jane. Time to put boring names and all gripes aside, for the food is here. Eating could unquestionably be the highlight of my entire day. I lifted the silver cover and saw a slice of meat loaf on the plate with steamed broccoli and a baked potato wrapped in tin foil. I knew it was meat loaf and yet the aroma was unfamiliar and I didn’t know how it would taste. I took a small bite and immediately realized what the extra packets of ketchup were doing on the tray. The broccoli was pretty good and I loved the potato with the melted butter and lots of pepper. I must admit that I did enjoy the flavor of ketchup. Jane was relaxed and having a good time now. Eating could easily become my major diversion.

How did I know what the cake on my tray was called if I had no memory? Are food items the exception to my particular amnesia? It was a slice of pound cake. And it was pretty good. On the tray, I left the small carton of unopened milk and the untouched gelatin. I searched for a piece of hidden chocolate however there was none in sight. I was hoping for a small after dinner chocolate mint. I couldn’t wait to taste chocolate. I assumed Jane was secretly a chocolate addict. She must be, for I have had so many cravings for something I have never tasted.

How different is Jane Doe compared to the stranger in the mirror? Do I have her sense of humor or is the humor simply a part of me? Jane Doe could be a boring librarian in addition to a lousy driver. At that moment, I deliberated on how much money librarians made per year. Jane was dressed very nicely. Who is the real person here and where do all these traits come from? Perhaps I should consider becoming a shrink! It looks fairly easy. I could have my very own personalized clipboard and learn to scribble. I could saunter the halls with a smile and a light blue overcoat to check on all my patients. But would I really enjoy playing golf on the weekends?

So, let’s get down to business, shall we? What did no-memory Jane Doe learn today? She learned that it is Saturday. She has a bump on her head and a sore wrist. She loves baked potatoes and pound cake. She thinks about chocolate a lot. It is most likely an obsession with her. She hates her hair but loves the toe rings. Put that insignificant assessment together and what do you have? We are left with simple multiplication. Nothing times nothing equals nothing! That single round number does not shed any light on my dilemma. It is obvious that I am left in quite a quandary. Without a memory, I could be described as a mess, in a pickle, in a fix, in quite a tight spot, in a jam, in a sticky situation and even totally worthless. I might reconsider that calming pill without question if they coated it with dark chocolate.

As though a person had quickly changed the station with a remote control device, my thoughts drifted to a car sinking into a canal with me trapped and screaming inside. I shivered at the thought while I tried to remember. That must have been some accident. I guess Jane is a good swimmer. I know she is a very lucky person. Was I under water for a long time? Is that when I gave up, panicked and then lost my memory? What a horrifying night that must have been. I could have drowned in that dark canal late at night.

No wonder Jane evicted herself from all her memories and her entire life. After I swam to safety, how did I get to the emergency room? Did I actually walk here? Did some passerby stop to help me and offer to drive me to the hospital? Everything is a complete blank. Come on Jane. You can join in on the conversation any time. Don’t be shy girl. A little input never hurt. You have all the answers kiddo while I have all the questions. Stop hiding in there and help me out. Even my craving to taste a morsel of chocolate would not do it for me right now. I was much too angry, confused and frightened. I’ll think about chocolate again in about an hour.

The conversation with me, myself and I was abruptly interrupted when I spotted a policeman talking to one of the nurses in the hall. I could not hear what he was saying and yet I had the feeling it had something to do with me. Okay,