“WELL, FATHER LEONARD,” the doctor says, looking at her tablet, “there’s nothing physically wrong with you. All our tests are normal.”
“Then why can’t I remember anything?” Father Leonard asks. He’s sitting up on the edge of his hospital bed, dressed in a green polo and khaki shorts with tennis shoes.
“I’d say it's psychological trauma, the shock. The brain will block out something that’s that traumatic; it’s a defense mechanism.”
“Do you think he’ll remember?” I ask.
“Maybe with time, treatment might help.”
“How much time?” Father Leonard asks, clearly worried.
“There’s no way to know, Father,” the doctor says. “It may be days, it could be months, even years.” She smiles and pats his arm. “Now you go home, take it easy for a few days.”
“I’ll see that he rests. Thank you doctor,” I
