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Short Story

Bewildered
Based on a true story
By Tawana O'Dell

Author Info: tawana_odell@earthlink.net

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Valentines Day 300-70
I struggle to open my eyes, but I don’t have the energy. Through the red in my eyelids, I was seeing flashing lights? Are they above me? Is there an awful feeling in my stomach, a pain? Maybe I am nauseous, from the rubbing alcohol. The smell is so strong. Far away, there are voices, lots of them, rushing around me in confusion. Faintly I hear wheels, metal wheels rolling on tile, clicking as they roll over gaps filled by grout. Have we stopped? I know that smell; it is ammonia. My eyes they will open now. Not so fast, the lights, there too bright, but I have to see. In the distance I can see, there is a cabinet lined with medical supplies. I can hear machines beeping slowly.

“Tawana,” she said. Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a tunnel. To my relief, it was a woman’s voice. I need answers, but what was she calling me, is she foreign?

“I need to take your vitals,” she said in a low voice as she stood over me. She is a small woman, plain looking, and smelled of cheap perfume. Her hair was long and rolled up in a bun. She had dark skin tones and slanted eyes. I could hear her talking. I wasn’t listening to what she was saying. I couldn’t focus. The tone in her voice made me feel at ease.

“The doctor will be with you in a second,” she said as she hurried out of the room. Why couldn’t I call out to her, it was as if my mouth wouldn’t open. A click, it was the door. The man was in a white coat. He couldn’t be the doctor? He looked so young. He was slender with a muscular build. He must work out. It was his glasses that made him look smart, but underneath them was an attractive face.

“Hello, I am Dr. Northern,” he spoke in a very confident tone.

“Do you know why you are here?” he asked.

He appeared to be waiting on a response. “No,” I replied.

Was that my voice? It did not sound familiar to me.

“Can you tell me your name?” he asked. I was searching my mind, I knew the name the nurse called me didn’t sound right, but yet I could not think of it. It seemed as if it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just could not think of it.

“I don’t know,” I said, sounding puzzled.

He smiled, “Your name is Tawana Moore, you suffered a nervous breakdown at school brought on by sexual trauma, and you are now in the sexual trauma unit at St. Anthony’s Medical Center in St. Louis. A nervous breakdown is when the brain can no longer take anymore, similar to an overload in a computer, and will shut itself down. However, during this process, some or all of the memory can be lost. You are here for us to evaluate why this has happened to you at such a young age. For the period of the next few months you will remain in our care and we will try to help you regain some or all of that memory. Do you have any questions? I know this is all very confusing to you right now,” he explained.

“I don’t know,” I replied in total astonishment.

With a warm smile he said, “Have something to eat and let some of this sink in, and I will meet with you again after dinner.”

© Tawana O’Dell 2003



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