Vintage Woman

Chapter 2

Chapter 2“Jane”

“Just have a seat in here Miss Doe—er, ma’am, and the doctor will be in shortly.” A harried young woman wearing baggy pants and a smock in matching light blue closed the door as she left.

“Jane Doe? I can’t believe they’re calling me that!” But like it or not, she had no identification and she was mortified to discover when she was checking in that she had no idea what her name was. Is. She’d heard of amnesia before—at least she knew what the word meant—though it seemed fake, a convenient way of getting yourself out of trouble. But no! Apparently it could happen.

It was darned alarming, as was everything that had happened in the past hour. What if she had a child waiting at home, wherever that was? No, surely a mother could never forget her own child. A husband, maybe? Some part of her felt a pang. She looked at her hand. Numerous tiny cuts and a bruise or two were scattered over both arms and hands. But there was no ring. Worried parents at least? Would anyone be looking for her?

A shiver ran through her and for an instant she was back in that dark building, her cheek pressed to the floor, one hand fumbling desperately for something to hold on to, the other one underneath her at an awkward angle. It had taken her several anguished moments to rise up on one elbow and to lift her pounding head above the rubble she was lying in. Even then, things kept swimming in and out of focus, but eventually she realized what had at first seemed like utter darkness was owed to boarded-up windows with only a small amount of light filtering through a broken wood panel in one corner. Bits of plaster lay scattered about and more wood, along with the odd nail or two as well as bits of trash she couldn’t immediately identify, almost as if a bomb had exploded.

Fear gripped her then as she listened for the whine and hiss of another shell falling, like in that war movie she—for some reason—remembered clearly, but all she could hear was the distant hum of an engine, too far away to be threatening, and the thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of her own heart racing. Besides, those windows appeared to all be boarded up deliberately, so it couldn’t be something that had just happened. And if the destruction had taken place long enough prior for someone to board up the windows, why had no one discovered her lying there? Just how long had she been on that floor?

Shaking off the terror, Jane pulled herself back to her present surroundings, taking comfort in the voices filtering into the small, sparsely furnished room with its stark, white walls. Besides the narrow bed, it contained little more than a metal sink set into a white countertop. Above the sink was a wooden cabinet, and in one corner a metal tray rested on a wheeled cart. Jane carefully crossed the room, holding onto the countertop as she wobbled toward the cart. The tray was not attached, and she picked it up, angling it toward her face. While not a mirror, it was shiny enough for Jane to glimpse her reflection.

At least the hazy face that looked back at her was familiar, if considerably worse for wear. Dried blood covered a nasty-looking gash across her swollen forehead, some discoloration surrounding it that could have been either dirt or a bruise. Smudged mascara made her look as though she hadn’t slept for days. While she was unusually fatigued, she wasn’t at all hungry, so she doubted she’d been unconscious for a great length of time, because normally she couldn’t miss a meal without feeling it. No, she was nauseous, if anything.

Still a little woozy and disoriented, she returned the tray to its holder and made her way back to the narrow bed, its crisp linens and plush pillow clean and inviting. She lay back and closed her eyes against the blindingly bright lights overhead.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the pain in her head abating a bit as her heartbeat slowed. Thank God that nice man had come along and rescued her! Okay, he could have killed her when she staggered into the street, but she didn’t think his truck did the damage she saw. At most it had grazed her. She should have reassured him of that, but she was still feeling so out of sorts that her manners had escaped her. It was very kind of him to bring her to the hospital and wait with her while she checked in, but it was downright embarrassing to not be able to give her own name or address. She didn’t blame him for leaving as soon as someone else took charge. He surely thought she was crazy. Who forgets their own name?

And what had happened to her purse? She never went out without it. The person who had taken her back into a little room behind the reception desk asked more questions she couldn’t answer, suggesting that maybe she’d been mugged. She shivered to think some thug may have hit her on the head and absconded with her purse. And she was even more horrified when the questions got personal, but at least it didn’t seem as though whoever took her purse had taken any other liberties with her!

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in?” She supposed that was the right thing to say, even though she didn’t know who was out there. She couldn’t see a thing through the blinds at the window next to the door, and they were attached on the outside of the room, so she couldn’t even open them.

“Well, well. You’ve had quite a day, I’d say.” A tall woman strode in confidently, wearing a white jacket over nicely tailored brown knit pants and a cream-colored blouse. “I’m Doctor Lockwood.”

She moved toward the bed with her hand outstretched and Jane wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to wipe her dirty hand on the very white sheet underneath her but she sure wasn’t going to touch a doctor in her deplorable condition. A lady doctor, at that!

“O-kay. Well, let’s get down to business then.” She looked at a plastic screen in her left hand that resembled a small, flat TV. “It says here that you walked into the street and were brought in by the person who almost hit you. Were you trying to kill yourself?”

“Heaven’s no!” Jane was appalled the doctor could suggest such a thing. She may not know who she was, but she knew she wanted to live! She was only—well, darn. She had no idea how old she was either.

Doctor Lockwood smiled. “That’s good to know. I had to ask. That’s an automatic psych consult.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“I think you have a head injury that needs tending along with a few small cuts I’d like to get cleaned up, and I intend to do just that, but I’m required to take a history. On a scale of one to ten, what would you say your pain is?”

What kind of game is the doctor playing? When she didn’t answer, the doctor pointed at a colorful poster on the wall with various smiley faces, only most of them weren’t smiling. She decided she was supposed to indicate which of the faces matched how she was feeling. That was a clever tool for someone who might not be communicating well, which obviously she was not.

“Um, somewhere between that yellow and orange one, so maybe five?”

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do about that. I’ll order you some naproxen.” She looked up from the screen. “Do you happen to know if you’re allergic to any medications?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course. I’ll start with a low dose. It’s just Aleve. Shouldn’t cause any problems. I don’t want to order any narcotics. We need to monitor your symptoms. You might have a concussion. I’ll get a CT just in case. Make sure you don’t have a subdural hematoma. You don’t remember being struck or hitting your head on something?”

Jane shook her head. Hopefully the medicine would help everything make sense. Most of the doctor’s words were alarmingly like gibberish.

“I told that first person everything I know, which isn’t much, I’m sorry. This is all very confusing. I don’t think anything like this has ever happened to me before, but I can’t honestly say for certain. Still, if I was a regular visitor to a hospital, I should think something about it would look familiar, and so far, I feel like I’m on another planet.”

Keep talking like that and you’ll get yourself locked up for sure.

But the doctor just kept smiling that fake-looking smile that never reached her eyes as she tapped on the screen she was holding. “Okay then. I’ll be back to talk to you when I get your test results.” She handed her a cord with what looked like a red doorbell on it. “Just push this if you need the nurse.”

Doctor Lockwood left the room and Jane was alone again.

Funny that they give you a doorbell to call the nurse. Huh. Doorbell. That’s something that made sense. One tiny thing out of a million things that didn’t.