The Angie Chronicles:: The Resurrection

By Eva Fischer-Dixon

When Angie awoke she found herself in a beautifully decorated room without any recollection how she got there. What made matters worse was the fact the she could not remember anything, anything at all. Dr. Abraham Jacobs informed her that he was hired by Benjamin Manning, the third wealthiest man in the country, to help her with regaining her memory. Angie could not recall her name, where she was from, if she was married, and if she had children. She had no recollection how she got to the US and how she appeared in the Hamptons, Long Island, New York. As days and weeks passed, Angies memories slowly began to return, but what she learns leaves her confused, concerned, and heartbroken about what happened. Dr. Jacobss friend BJ was all too willing to assist her, but in the process he fell deeply in love with Angie, who could not shake the devastation she felt about learning of her past. With her children returned to Hungary and not knowing their whereabouts, BJs suggestion how to get her children back put Angie to the test. Just how much was she willing to sacrifice to get custody of her family? After an almost fatal attack on her life by someone from her past, Angie becomes ever so determined to regain her self-confidence and put her troubled past behind her. The question is just how long BJ, a wealthy man by his own right and who was voted as the most eligible bachelor in America, is willing to wait for Angie while she learned to trust again. One more time, Angie must make the right decision, or pay with her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503569317

Eva Fischer-Dixon

I came into this troubled world during the early morning hours of June 17, 1950, in the city of Budapest, Hungary. I was the first and last child of my 41-year-old mother and my father who was 45 years old at the time of my birth. As I did not know any better, I could not possibly understand that we were living in poverty, as I was growing up with loving parents and there was always a bite to eat. My childhood was poor and saddened with tragedies. As a six-year-old child I witnessed the bloody 1956 revolution and received the first taste of true prejudice by those of whom I thought liked us, yet turned against my family. That tragedy did not match the untimely death of my beloved father when I was not yet seven years old, on February 14, 1957. My mother remarried in 1959 and our financial situation was upgraded from poverty to poor. After finishing elementary school I made a decision to earn money as soon as possible to ease our financial situation and I enrolled in a two-year business college (high school diploma was not required). I received my Associate Degree in 1966 and I began to work as a 16-year-old certified secretary/bookkeeper. During the same period I began my high-school education, which I completed while working full-time and attending night school. I discovered my love for writing when I was 11 years old after a movie that my childhood friend and I saw in the movie theater. We were not pleased with the ending and Steven suggested that I should write a different ending that we both liked. Voila, a writer was born. With my family’s encouragement, I entered a writing contest given by a youth oriented magazine and to my genuine surprise, I won second price. My desire to live in a free country and to improve my life was so great, that in 1972, leaving everything, including my aging parents behind, I managed to escape from Hungary during a tour to Austria, (then) Yugoslavia and Italy. I spent almost nine long months in a rat infested refugee camp, located Capua, Italy, while I waited for official permission to immigrate to the country of my dreams, to the USA. In 1975 I met and married a wonderful man, my husband Guy. Thanks to his everlasting patience, he assisted me in my task of learning the English language. He is truly my partner for life and I remain forever grateful to him for standing by me in some tough times. It is difficult for me to describe my love for writing. I cannot think of a bigger emotional joy for an author than to see a published novel in somebody’s hand and to see a story come alive on the screen. I yearn to experience that joy.

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Copyright © 2015 by Eva Fischer-Dixon.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5035-6932-4

                 eBook           978-1-5035-6931-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 05/18/2015

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: AFTER The Accident (Part 1)

Chapter Two: BEFORE The Accident (Part 1)

Chapter Three: AFTER The Accident (Part 2)

Chapter Four: BEFORE The Accident (Part 2)

Chapter Five: AFTER The Accident (Part 3)

Chapter Six: BEFORE The Accident (Part 3)

Chapter Seven: AFTER The Accident (Part 4)

Chapter Eight: BEFORE The Accident (Part 4)

Chapter Nine: AFTER The Accident (Part 5)

Chapter Ten: AFTER The Accident (Part 5)

Chapter Eleven: AFTER The Accident (Part 6)

Chapter Twelve: BEFORE The Accident (Part 6)

Chapter Thirteen: AFTER The Accident (Part 7)

Chapter Fourteen: BEFORE The Accident (Part 7)

Chapter Fifteen: AFTER The Accident (Part 8)

Chapter Sixteen: BEFORE The Accident (Part 8)

Chapter Seventeen: AFTER The Accident (Part 9)

Chapter Eighteen: BEFORE The Accident (Part 9)

Chapter Nineteen: AFTER The Accident (Part 10)

Chapter Twenty: BEFORE The Accident (Part 5)

Chapter Twenty-One: AFTER The Accident & Present

Chapter Twenty-Two: Mr. Manning

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Clothier

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Plan And The Proposal

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Party

Chapter Twenty-Six: A Thorn In My Heart

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Leaving On The Jet Plan

Chapter Twenty-Eight: City Of Angels Or Demons?

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Forgive And/Or Forget

Chapter Thirty: To Live And/Or Let Die

Chapter Thirty-One: En Route, In Luxury

Chapter Thirty-Two: Return To The Native Land ~ Part One

Chapter Thirty-Three: Return To The Native Land ~ Part Two

Chapter Thirty- Four: Return To The Native Land ~Part Three

Chapter Thirty-Five: Return To The Native Land ~ Part Four

Chapter Thirty-Six: Departure From The Native Land

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A New Beginning

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Changes

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Resurrection

Epilog

PROLOGUE

E LEVEN YEARS, EIGHT months and twelve precious days have passed since that day, that unimaginable and horrible day in my life that left me thinking about what was most important in my life, or in any life. Some people think that wealth is the most important thing; some say that health is even more important, yet others may say that family and country are the more important things in life. Speaking only for myself, I find that memories are the most cherished things in someone’s life, because without memories, we are nothing, we are just entities.

CHAPTER ONE

AFTER the Accident (Part 1)

I T MUST BE a dream; I thought when I opened my eyes. I was lying in the middle of a very plush and comfortable bed that I didn’t remember getting into. I slowly looked around to survey my surroundings. I liked what I saw. The room was large and sunny with pure white walls with dark butter colored trimmings inches from the ceiling and from the floor. It was almost like an expensive hotel room that was tastefully decorated with pretty paintings with light colored flowers in beige frames. I noticed that there was a medium size dresser with a real flower arrangement on the top. In the left corner of the room stood a small round table along with a comfortable looking armchair and modern floor lamp. There was also a small desk with a chair by the window and nightstands on both side of the bed completed the room’s furnishing.

On my right there was a sliding door with a visible balcony, although the shutters were not open all the way. I looked up above me where the ceiling light was not neon like in most of the hospitals; rather, it was a modern light fixture that reminded me of snowflakes. I smiled at that thought. I could feel the air conditioning as it gently blew the cool air into the room, luckily not directly at me.

It was a very pleasant room and I desperately tried to remember where I was and how did I get there. I turned to my left and I noticed an IV stand with clear liquid dripping into the tubes that was attached to my left arm. Was I in a hospital after all? If so, why?

I dozed off again but the sound of voices alarmed me to wake up. I turned toward the direction of the people I sensed were inside the room. I looked up and my eyes rested on a young man, I guessed his age in his mid-thirties wearing a white coat with a nametag that read, Dr. Jacobs. The woman who wore a smock with teddy bears on it also had a nametag that read, Nurse Serena.

Hello, Dr. Jacobs said and smiled at me. He had warm brown, almost black eyes with matching hair color. I did not know who he was but I had a distinct feeling that he was not someone I had to fear, so I relaxed somewhat. The nurse also smiled at me and I read her smile as that she was pleased to see me for some reason.

Hello, I replied and looked at them with so many questions that I didn’t even know where to begin.

My question may sound like a cliché, but how are you feeling? Dr. Jacobs asked.

How am I feeling? I repeated his question and it dawned on me that I was actually feeling pretty good and I said so. Where am I? I asked.

He smiled. I could not ask a better question myself in your situation. I will answer all of your questions, as many as I can, but at first, Nurse Serena will take your vital signs, is that alright with you? He asked. I nodded.

The nurse was efficient and within a couple of minutes she told the doctor that my blood pressure was one twenty over seventy, my heart rate was 75 and I had no fever. Dr. Jacobs thanked her while she was writing the information down on my chart, and then he smiled at me once again.

I would like to conduct a little experiment and if it works, we can remove your IV, are you willing to help us out? He inquired.

What kind of experiment? I asked and began to feel uncomfortable.

A pleasant kind, he answered. As you noticed you have an IV in your arm that is how we fed you until now. How would you like to try some liquid diet first, and if you are able to keep the food down, we can switch to solid food.

That would be fine, I replied with relief. For some reason I thought that they were going to do some physical experimentation on me because one thing was for certain, I had no idea where I was and who Dr. Jacobs and Nurse Serena really were. The nurse left to get the food leaving the doctor alone with me in the large and pretty room that was filled with filtered sun, not too much of it and yet still plenty. Where am I? I asked my first question.

You are at Mr. Benjamin Jeremiah Manning’s guest house, in the Hamptons, he replied without hesitation.

In the Hamptons? I asked and I tried to remember why I was in the Hamptons in the first place. As in Hamptons, Long Island? He confirmed my question with a nod. Who is Mr. Manning and why am I in his guest house? I wanted to know. I glanced at Dr. Jacobs and immediately noticed that he was no longer smiling. I also did not miss that he took a deep breath before he spoke again.

The fact is, you have been in a major car accident and you suffered two broken legs and pelvis, several cracked ribs, all of them have healed by now, he begin. I waved with my right hand.

If they are all healed, how long I have been here? As I asked that question, I could feel my heart rate increasing.

This is your fifth month with us, he replied quietly and closely watched as I began to gasp for air. He reached above me and placed an oxygen mask over my face.

I could feel the clear oxygen entering through my nostrils and trickling down toward my lungs. He patiently waited until my breathing returned to normal, and when I nodded that I was feeling better, he carefully removed it. Let me know if you need it again, he told me.

Dr. Jacobs, I began to mumble. What is going on with me, why am I really here?

He reached and touched his lips with his fingers as if he tried to figure out how to present me with the ever so important information, answers that I really wanted. Moreover, I needed to know why I could not recall anything about what must have happened.

At first, I am going to ask you one question, he said and looked directly into my eyes. What is your name? I remember blinking several times on the absurdity of his question.

My name is, … I looked at him as panic rushed through my body with the speed of a rocket. Oh, my God, oh, my God, I mumbled and began to shake. I touched my head and grabbed my hair as if I could pull some answers from my brain. I began to cry and rocked back and forth. Oh, my God, oh, my God, I kept on saying. He reached for the button on a small panel that was attached to the side of my bed and pressed one of them. He said something into the intercom and a few seconds later a nurse appeared with a syringe and handed it to the doctor who injected the syringe directly into the IV tube. After a few moments I felt calmness descending upon me.

I gave you a mild sedative that may make you sleepy in a little while, he explained. Do you feel up to hearing some more explanations about your situation? He asked me. I nodded that I did, but it did not stop my tears from falling. He handed me a small box of tissues, for which I thanked him. There was a multi car accident just outside the Hamptons, and you were rescued from one of the cars. Since you suffered the lesser injury, you were treated at the local hospital. You were fully conscious but you could not remember your name or any other information about yourself and about the others in the car.

Who were the others? I asked.

We will get to that later, for now, we are going to focus on you, alright? He asked but did not wait for my reply. After two weeks in the hospital, unexpectedly, possibly due to a previously undiagnosed concussion that you suffered, you slipped into a coma. Mr. Manning insisted that you would be transferred here. He hired a full staff, which also includes me to take care of you. You were fed intravenously and after the casts came off, the physical therapist exercised your limbs to prevent thrombosis. We basically took care of all of your needs.

What kind of doctor are you? I asked. He smiled.

I am a general physician as well as a licensed psychologist, he replied without protest.

Why can’t I remember anything? I inquired feeling extremely anxious despite the calming effect of the injected medicine.

I was unable to determine the depth of your memory loss due to the fact that you were in a coma, he informed me.

I had so many questions, such as; who is Mr. Manning, why did he insist to bring me into his own home, well, the guest house, what was I doing in the Hamptons, but the question that especially troubled me was, who were the others in the car that I was pulled from?

The medicine kicked in and as I closed my eyes for only a minute, I remained in sleep for three hours. When I looked up again, it was getting dark outside and soft lights from above and from the lights on both nightstands were on. I looked at the side of the bed where I saw that the doctor pushed a button, they were clearly marked which button did what, such as television, which I did not even notice as it was in the cabinet above the dresser, music, volumes, lights and there it was, nurse. I pushed that button and within a minute a nurse appeared. Her nametag stated that her name was Bekah.

What can I do for you? She asked with a smile.

I would like something to drink please, I said quietly, my mouth felt awfully dry.

Would you also like to try something to eat? She inquired.

I can try, I suppose, I replied. She nodded and rushed off. I pushed down the side bar, that turned out to be a really difficult task, and slowly moved my legs to the left and pushed myself up in a sitting position. So far, so good, I thought. As careful as I could, I lowered my feet to the ground and holding on to the edge of the bed, I stood up. For a second that is, because everything began to spiral around and around and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the armchair with a cold towel on my forehead. Dr. Jacobs was sitting in a chair a few feet from me.

I glanced at the small table next to the armchair and I noticed some apple juice, what looked like mashed potato and a cup of green gelatin. What were you thinking? Dr. Jacobs asked. He spoke in a kind voice so I assumed that he was not extremely mad at me, he just couldn’t figure out why I didn’t ask for help. At least you could have waited for the nurse’s return. He did sound concerned.

I am sorry, I didn’t realize how weak I was, I answered.

You have been in a horizontal position for virtually almost five months. It was expected that you might experience some level of dizziness. I am going to blame this on the medication, alright? He asked and finally smiled. I began to like that smile.

How come you are still here, it’s getting late into the evening, I commented.

I also live in the guest house, it is a very large place with multiple apartments. I am at your service seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, he informed me.

Don’t you have other patients to see? I asked.

As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Manning hired me and my nursing staff with the sole purpose of taking care of you, therefore, I am here for you twenty-four/seven, he explained.

Please, tell me about Mr. Manning, I asked him.

He bit done on his lips and then he smiled again. Actually, I am not at liberty to discuss him. He said and glanced toward the door. Bekah appeared and she had a small tray with her, with sterile gauze and some other things. Okay, Dr. Jacobs said and got up. We will help you back to the bed and we are going to remove your catheter as I want you to start using the bathroom, alright? He asked. I nodded. I didn’t even think that I had a catheter inside and that a bag, which I just noticed was by the floor next to the chair. Just how much I did not notice yet, more importantly, how much I did not know, for instance, who am I?

CHAPTER TWO

BEFORE the Accident (Part 1)

T HERE IS SOMETHING very special about moving and I don’t mean only into a new apartment or a house. Relocating to a new area such the City of Gödöll ő was very exciting, new buildings to memorize, learn about short cuts while driving, the individual culture of each place, but most importantly, meeting with new people. If I was excited about moving to Gödöll ő , one could just imagine how excited I must have been moving into another country, and not just any country but to the United States of America.

I just turned twenty-three years old a month before we landed in Dulles International Airport on 1 July 1973, in the American capital in Washington, D.C. It was a very long flight as in those days the airlines did not have direct flights between Budapest and Washington, D.C, luckily our layover in Amsterdam, Holland was only a couple of hours and the rest was the longest. If only Viktor and I were travelling it would not have been worth mentioning, but travelling with an eleven-month-old baby and a frisky nearly three years old, well, it was almost challenging.

On our first leg of our journey from Budapest to Amsterdam, we did nothing but calming our children among the dozens of apologies we said to the people around us. The people were actually very decent about it, at least they did not complain. I told Viktor that I could only imagine what was going to happen on the flight from Amsterdam to Washington, D.C., but to our great surprise, our daughter pretty much slept through the trip, waking up to eat only once, and our son drew pictures with his father until the coloring pencil fell out of his hand when he fell asleep. We took a deep breath and Viktor winked at me with satisfaction.

I had some questions about his job and asked him about it before we left, but instead of giving me a straight answer, he simply told me that he would be a liaison of some sort. I knew that he realized that I didn’t buy that, but working for the military, indirectly, I was working at the Gödöllő Military Academy, I learned that sometimes it is better not knowing for the reason of deniability. The reality was that he was no longer in the military, so I left it at that.

What am I going to do? I asked him shortly before our departures.

Keeping a household on its toes and taking care of two children is not enough for you? Viktor asked with a grin on his face and pulled me to him. We can add to the two, you know. He suggested and reached under my skirt. As in on cue, Ilona, cried out for me. I sighed and kissed him.

Enough, I replied. For then that is. I was the kind of person who was in her best form when she was overloaded, but since we didn’t exactly knew what was going to happen in Washington, D.C., I temporarily put the get a job issue on the backburner.

After going through immigration check, which did not take long as Viktor held a Diplomatic Passport and immunity, it equally did not take long to go through customs either. I was carrying Ilona and held onto Viktor Jr. as we walked while Viktor pushed the cart with our number of luggage, carry-on and childcare bags.

We stepped outside to the waiting area for arrivals and I motioned to Viktor that there was a young man standing not too far with a handmade sign with Mr. Toldai written on it. He welcomed us warmly and introduced himself as Tibor Falusi, one of the members from the Ambassador Hidegvári’s staff. As soon as we got into his car, what he called a station wagon, he informed us that he was going to take us directly to our quarters, which were located on the embassy’s compound. The embassy quarters is where employees lived, unless they choose to live on the economy which was virtually impossible for anyone on the salary they earned, although, he added, there were a few families who still managed to do that.

Among other things, he truly unloaded an awful lot of information on us, all at once, he told us that there would be a staff car available for Viktor so he could get from point A to point B, whatever that meant. He told us that there also would be a small reception held the following evening to celebrate our arrival; we were given the rest of the day off so we could get situated in our apartment. I was about to ask him if there was any furniture when he provided that piece of information without having to ask, yes, the apartment came fully furnished.

To be totally honest, and it now strikes me as funny, I had no idea what was waiting for us. I would not go as far to call myself small minded, I certainly read and learned enough about American life throughout my growing up years, but one thing was to read about it and another one to experience it. Of course, there were still those words, living quarters, which could have been from one room or two, or who knew, we just had to wait and see.

I loved the buildings that we passed and I recognized some of them from the pictures that I had seen in the books that Viktor brought to me upon his return from his nearly two years of working at the Embassy as a Military Attaché. Tibor, without turning around, I was sitting with the children in the backseat, complimented my pronunciation of the name of the buildings.

I know that General Toldai, excuse me, Mr. Toldai speaks English, do you Mrs. Toldai? He asked.

Yes, I do, I replied in English. He smiled. I was never more grateful that through my childhood, off and on I tried to learn English. Of course, in those days in schools we were forced to learn Russian for many years, and then my mother taught me German. When I went to Business College, it was mandatory to learn a foreign language. At first I selected German as I already had some knowledge of the language, and I thought that it would be an easy way to get a good grade, but before the school actually began, I switched to English. Maybe it was a premonition from my part that I will have a need for it in the future.

The embassy’s building was located on Shoemaker Street, NW of the capital city, and indeed it was a huge building. Tibor told us that there were over fifty families and single people living in the quarters, which were different sizes. Of course, the largest belonged to Ambassador Hidegvári, his wife Zita and their two children, Hanna and Miklós.

The policemen who stood outside the double, high iron gate opened it wide when they recognized Tibor, and of course the embassy’s staff vehicle, which had a special diplomatic license plate. We drove all the way to the back of the building and finally parked where the living quarters were located. Leaving everything behind, except the children, we walked to the elevator, which took us up to the second floor. After a minute or so walk, we stopped in front of a light green colored door and Tibor opened it without unlocking it first.

For an ever-brief moment I closed my eyes as I stepped inside and the place where I grew up flashed through my mind, my parents’ small apartment that is. When I opened my eyes, I found myself a step from the opened door. In front of me was a fairly large, I would even dare to call spacious living room. Tibor kindly guided us through the rooms and my smile was getting bigger with each step. The master bedroom was nice and large and there was a second bedroom, fair in size for the children. With our calculations and because of the contract-agreement Viktor signed with the Foreign Ministry, we were to spend the next three years in the United States. Of course, there were occasional recalls of diplomats, because that is what Viktor officially became.

There was only one bathroom, but it had a bathtub, which was also used as shower, naturally the toilet, and then the bathroom counter with two sinks. The apartment had all that was required to run a household, an electric stove, which I always preferred over gas, and a refrigerator that was huge in my eyes. I bought a quarter size of that for my parents way back when. The kitchen also had what I had also never seen before, a garbage disposal and double sink. I made a face and Viktor raised his eyebrows.

I placed the sleeping Ilona down in the crib, which I thought was a thoughtful thing to provide for us, and I said so to Tibor when he returned while he helped Viktor to unload the station wagon.

Thank you so much for thinking of such details, I told him and motioned to the crib where Ilona was all stretched out. Our son, Viktor Junior, or just Junior from now on, was very sleepy and after taking his little shoes off, I put him down on a bed that was in a shape of a racecar. After making sure that they both were asleep, leaving the door open, I joined Viktor and Tibor in the living room.

Boy, there sure are a lot of new things to learn, I commented.

Tibor was saying that there is also a nursery for the children of the working staff, Viktor said with a sheepish smile.

Oh, I perked up by hearing that. How does the job situation look for someone like me? I asked. Tibor let out a little laugh.

Mrs. Toldai, he turned to me. Your reputation preceded you, he said.

I did not know how to take that comment. Is that a good, or is that a bad thing?

It’s all very good and your arrival could not be timed any better, he informed me. Vera Temessy, the wife of Zsolt Temessy, he is in charge with the Passport and Immigration Department, is eight months pregnant. A few months after she has her baby, they are moving back to Hungary, so her position as Social Events Coordinator and Liaison to the Ambassador will become available.

Wow, that is all I could say. I would love to be considered for that job, I told him. I noticed that he exchanged looks with Viktor. What is going on?

I guess Mr. Toldai did not mention it to you, but the job is yours if you desire, he told me. I turned to Viktor.

You knew that all along and you played me, I mumbled to him. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulder. We’ll talk about that later, I declared.

Okay, Tibor said and got up. There is just one more thing. My wife, Gizella, well, Gizi as she prefers to be called, took the liberty to buy you some odds and ends, she called them essentials. They are in the refrigerator and also in the cupboards. And, because I am also your sponsor, she insisted to cook you your first meal here, so you are cordially invited for dinner tonight, around six, six-thirty.

Viktor and I looked at each other, it was much more than that what we expected from a sponsor, it was beyond being thoughtful. Viktor nodded.

Tibor, that is very nice of you and your wife, but we don’t want to cause any trouble, he replied to his invitation.

I am begging you not to decline her invitation, otherwise I will have a night that I would have to live down for a long time. She is already cooking and until six, you still have hours to go, you can rest up. Please say yes, Tibor said almost pleading. Obviously he had a strong willed wife, I liked her already without even meeting her.

We would be delighted and please thank Gizi ahead of time for us, I told him.

Excellent, Tibor said and gave us directions to their apartment that was located on the third floor.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER the Accident (Part 2)

A WEEK PASSED by since I regained consciousness and during that time, Dr. Jacobs assured me that we were making progress, although I felt that I was still only taking baby steps. It troubled me a great deal, and I unleashed my unhappy thoughts on him, that he knew who I was and he refused to tell me. It took me two solid days to realize that he was not an evil man, he knew that if he had told me my name I would just probably say that, oh, I remember, when I would have just accepted what he told me. He gave me his professional word that he would do everything in his power and knowledge to get me better. He also guaranteed that I will regain some of my memories, but he failed short to assure me about the return of my full memory.

I was walking with a walking stick just to make sure that I would keep my balance and with a nurse by my side at all times, I made my way through hallways and even to the dining room. Instead of taking my meals in my own room, no matter how nicely decorated, spacious and comfortable it was I needed to leave it once in a while. I had yet to make it out to the balcony or to the outside in general, but I was promised that day would be arriving soon.

Dr. Jacobs did a complete physical on me, minus the OBGYN part, I did not agree to that and he declared me healthy, well, except that I had no clue about my name, where I was from, if I had a family or how in the world I got to the Hamptons.

On the middle of the second week, Dr. Jacobs shifted gears and we began sessions on working on regaining my memory.

You speak with a very nice accent, so it is safe to say that English is probably your second language. What are your thoughts on that? He asked. The question really gave me a minor headache.

I woke up and I heard you speak English, so I assumed that it was the language I was supposed to speak, I replied. Before we go any further, Dr. Jacobs, I would greatly appreciate if you could explain to me why I can’t remember as much as my very own name or how I got here. I suppose he expected my question as he began his explanation right away.

Sometimes when people suffer a tragic event, as in your case a traumatic car injury, they lose either their short or long term memories. It was determined by several researchers that the two memory cells that actually process the data, if I may call it that, differently. In your particular case, you have lost both, long and short term memories. The good news is that also in many cases, at least one of the memories will return. I am aware of several cases when after a while, both memories completely returned. Officially, I have diagnosed you with Post-Traumatic Amnesia, and in time we will find out the extent of your memory loss. I am confident that I can help you recover most, if not all of your short and long term memories. He finished his explanation and I just stared at him, quietly processing what he just told me. Do you have any questions? He inquired. I nodded.

Do you have any idea how I feel? I asked him. I don’t even know my own name, where I came from, if I am married or if I have any children. I noticed that he picked up his head when I said that. After I said those words, I glanced down at my hands but there was no jewelry on my fingers, as a matter of fact, there was no jewelry anywhere on my body, like earrings or a necklace. I suppose that they had to cut them off if my hands were swollen and took off the jewelry when they did x-rays or MRIs, I decided not to ask.

Look, he said on a soft voice that was equally soothing and very likeable. I could not do a neurological exam on you because of your unconsciousness, but we did all sorts of testing, blood, urine, nerve and of course both CAT scan and MRI as well. By saying that he confirmed what I already suspected. I could not find anything physically wrong with you, your muscle reaction was also normal. The CAT scan and the MRI did not show any major brain damage either, although without a doubt it was not hard to tell that you have suffered a traumatic injury to the head. I also believe that you probably also witnessed something that caused additional stress, amnesia, if one must name it.

I took in all of his explanations, although it took me a lot longer to process it in details. I understood all that. I knew what CAT scan was and I knew what MRI was, so that removed me from being a complete idiot category.

Is there any treatment for memory loss? I inquired. He nodded.

There are several methods of treatments and we are going to try as many as we have too, he smiled encouragingly. All sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind and the first time since I was awake, I felt like crying. He immediately noticed the tears in my eyes and his smile disappeared. Talk to me, what is troubling you? He asked.

I looked him in the eye as I replied. What if there are people out there who were depended on me? I watched his face almost without blinking; I did not want to miss a single reaction. He took a deep breath before answering.

We need to focus on you getting better, he said and got up. It is lunch time, he declared. Would you care to join me? I nodded and slowly got up. He opened the door and called the nurse. I told him that I’ll be all right and he was right there if I needed help. The nurse returned to her makeshift station and prepared my daily dose of medicine. I once asked Dr. Jacobs why I had to take three different pills, he informed me that all of them should help stimulate parts of my brain that stored and controlled memories. Some of the pills, as I found out later, basically were not medication at all, rather, Vitamin B, Gingko Biloba and a medication that was used for patients who were developing Alzheimer’s. He asked me if I knew what that disease was and surprised both us, I actually knew what it was.

At the beginning of my second week, apart from taking the medication and herbs, Dr. Jacobs developed a routine for me that I was supposed to follow. It included taking baths, going for walks, consuming meals and other activities done exactly the same time every day and he also asked me to keep a diary about my activities, even if they were the same each day. He called this brain exercises.

There was another change and it was done to my diet. Dr. Jacobs introduced me to a very nice woman, as it turned out she was a nutritionist, her name was Katie Engels. She came by one day and carried a basket with all sorts of fruits and vegetables that she picked up at