Page 8 of Brain Damage

“It’s sad,” Amy says. “I just can’t get anything out of her most of the time. I hate to give up though. She’s so young… and she used to be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but her insurance…”

Oh my God, there it is! The red ball! It’s in Valerie’s hand. I found it!

This time, I am definitely not going to lose track of that ball. Valerie gestures with it and I watch it. It goes up and down. It’s easy to follow because it’s red.

6

“Open your eyes for me.”

There is a very pretty girl with blond hair sitting across from me. She is smiling at me. I like her smile. She has very straight teeth. And there are freckles across her pert little nose.

I feel something stroking my hand. I look down and see that the pretty blond girl has my hand in hers. Her hand is so soft, like a baby.

“Very good,” the blond girl is saying. “Now I want you to keep your eyes open.”

I keep my eyes open, focusing on the blond girl’s smile. It’s hard. I’m so tired. It would be nice to close my eyes.

“Good,” she says. She rubs a cold washcloth over my forehead and my cheek, and I shiver. A droplet of water slides down my cheek and down my neck. “You have such pretty eyes. The color is so unusual. Violet, like Elizabeth Taylor.”

Violet is like purple. How could I have purple eyes? Purple is not a normal color for eyes.

“Listen to me,” the blond girl says, “I want you to give me a thumbs up if I say your name. Okay?”

I read the name off of the blond girl’s name tag: Amy. She looks familiar to me. I think I met her before.

“Is your name Susan?” she asks me.

Is my name Susan? I don’t think it is. That doesn’t sound familiar.

No, I’m almost certain that my name isn’t Susan.

“Is your name Lisa?”

I don’t think Lisa is my name either. What is my name again? That seems like something I should definitely know.

But I’m sure if she says my name, I’ll recognize it.

I look to my right and see that there is another person in the room besides Amy. It is an older woman, with gray hair that is pulled back into a bun, although dozens of loose scraggly strands have escaped and fallen around her face. She’s wearing gray-rimmed glasses that slide down the bridge of her nose. I look for a badge with her name on it, but I don’t see one.

“How come she always has her head turned to the right?” the older woman asks.

“Injuries to the right side of the brain can sometimes cause a neglect of the left side,” Amy explains. “Basically, she has trouble paying attention and noticing stimuli on her left side.”

“So she can’t see things on her left side?”

“It’s not necessarily a question of vision,” Amy says. “It’s about perception. Like, for example, if I touch her on her left arm, notice how she doesn’t really respond, even though her nerves are working fine. She just doesn’t perceive that I’m touching her. She ignores any stimuli on her left side.”

Is Amy touching me right now? I guess she must be. I’m just not perceiving it, whatever that means.

“That’s so bizarre,” the older woman says.

Amy nods. “And weirdly, it doesn’t just apply to real life. Patients with hemispatial neglect on the left side can ignore the left side of hallucinations, dreams, or memories too.” She turns her attention back to me and smiles. “So tell me. Is your name Charlotte?”

Is that my name? I’m not sure. It sounds familiar.

“Give me a thumbs-up if your name is Charlotte,” Amy says.