Three days, three days now that I’ve been wondering, shut away in my hospital room, how on earth I’m going to face Guillaume, who no longer remembers who I am. Over the last few days, I’ve never been so emotional; I cry over the slightest thing. In fact, tears are streaming down my face and I can’t stop them.
The doctor enters the room and I quickly wipe away my tears.
_ Are you crying again? You really need to calm down. Don’t lose hope.
I nod.
_ Have you taken the drip out again?
_ I’m sorry, but I can’t keep that in my body; I might have a panic attack.
_ What happened to you?
_ I-it’s a long and painful story...
I lower my head and he writes something on a piece of paper, which he then hands to me.
_ If you can’t talk to me about it... here’s the number of a specialist friend
