Dr. Morgan - Part 20

Hello FFFs,
I hope you all are feeling better than I am right now. I'm fighting one of the worst colds I ever remember having. And I am supposed to be out at Farm Girl Fest this weekend. We'll see if I end up making it there.

In spite of my cough and earache and general congestion, I have gotten some written of TCR-4. I ended up having to re-figure some parts and put them in a different order and I still have to finish going back through and adding some things, but it's coming along. :)

Yesterday it rained nearly all day and today it's supposed to be sunny with a high of 61º! Yay! We really haven't had much fall weather. At least not for a while.

Okay, I'm going to give you Dr. Morgan this week and I have one more part written. Would you like that part next week or would you rather wait longer? Let me know because I don't know what I'm going to post next. I could post part of "Ria and the Gang." The sequel to "Home Fires" which never gotten written. Well, some stories got written, just not all.

So, Enjoy!

Dr. Morgan - Part 20

    It was late morning, and the winter sun was peeking through a partially overcast sky at the snowy world. A bitterly cold wind was blowing in fitful gusts, as though complaining that the sun had come out, as Justin brought his truck to a stop before the Morgan home and climbed out. Attuned as he was to details, he noticed at once that his dad’s truck was gone and wondered if Adam had taken it, since he had just gotten off the phone with his dad before heading up. Coming up the cleared walk, Justin glanced around. “Captain must be inside or Adam took him with him,” he mused, not seeing the family dog anywhere. When he opened the door, the mouthwatering smell of Christmas cookies caused him to sniff with delight.
    “I’m hungry already,” he called, hanging up his coat and taking off his overshoes. It was a familiar call, one which he used to say every time he entered the house and something smelled good.
    A laugh sounded from the kitchen and his mother’s voice invited, “Come and taste one.”
    Justin wasted no time in accepting the invitation and, after his third cookie, asked, “Where is Amy?”
    After shutting the oven door on another sheet of cookies, Sara swung Jenny up onto her hip as she answered, “She was reading in the living room the last I checked. She said she’d help ice and decorate the gingerbread men later.”
    “I help too,” Danny grinned up at Justin before popping a piece of cookie dough into his mouth.
    Justin laughed. “Well, surely you don’t need me to taste test for you with such a willing and irrepressible one right here.”
    “Oh, Danny!” Sara and Mrs. Morgan groaned together, as Justin slipped from the room.
    Finding Amy was easy. She was sitting on the couch before the fire with a book in her hand, but she wasn’t reading.
    “Good morning, Amy,” Justin greeted his patient, sitting down in a nearby chair and eyeing her keenly.
    Slowly Amy looked up, her face sober, her eyes somewhat red. She didn’t reply, but dropped her eyes back to the floor.
    “How do you like it up here?” Justin asked casually.
    “It’s not working. I can’t remember anything!” And Amy pressed her trembling lips together.
    Leaning forward, Justin shook his head. “Amy,” he chided, “you haven’t even been out of the hospital for a week. You can’t expect instant results.”
    “But I can’t remember.”
    “I know. But you can live each day as it comes and move forward in life.”
    “Why can’t I remember?” She looked up with pleading eyes brimming with tears. “Why?”
    Dr. Morgan felt a deep sympathy for the girl and hesitated in his answer. He could sense she was fighting the urge to panic, and he knew sympathy would only make things worse. Therefore, his voice was light as he replied, “You don’t want the scientific name for your condition, I hope! In plain English, something happens to the person, most likely a blow to the head of some sort, causing a temporary block in the part of the brain affecting memory. Some times this block only lasts a short time, say a few days to a few weeks. The person can remember things before that time and then there is a blank. Other times the block, like yours, shuts off all former memory leaving you with a ‘clean slate’ so to speak.”
    “When will it come back?” whispered Amy tearfully.
    “That is a question the experts are still puzzling their brains over. No one is quite sure. Sometimes these things last only a few hours, sometimes days, and sometimes years.”
    Amy gave a gasp. “I can’t live like this for years! You’ve got to do something to fix it!”
    “Amy,” Justin’s voice was quiet but steady, “if there was a way to bring it back for sure, believe me, I would do it. But that’s another mystery about the human brain. Sometimes it’s a tiny thing that triggers a memory and suddenly the person remembers everything. Other times it is a slow, gradual process with bits of memory coming now and then. But no matter what happens with you,” he paused and looked directly at the girl, “if your memory returns soon or if it takes a few years or if it never returns, you aren’t alone. The best thing you can do for yourself right now is to decide that you won’t give up. Jesus Christ is ready to help you each day, if you will let Him.”
    For a few minutes Amy was silent.
    Justin, watching her somewhat anxiously, saw her shoulders droop and the book fall unheeded from her hand. Just as he was about to speak, Amy stirred.
    “Isn’t there any medicine that might help me remember?”
    “No.”
    “Isn’t there anything I can do to make my memory come back faster?” There was a desperate pleading in the tones.
    “Perhaps. I don’t know if it will bring back your memory any quicker, but I do know it will affect you for good if you will do it.”
    Quickly Amy straightened. “Tell me, Doctor, what is it? I’ll do anything!”
    “First off, you are to keep yourself busy and fill your mind with good things so there isn’t much time to sit around and wonder and worry and grow upset. Help around the house when you are a little stronger, read, play with Danny and Jenny. There are probably many things you know how to do, if you stop trying to remember how to do them.”
    Amy shook her head. “I didn’t even know how to set a table last night.”
    “That’s probably because you stopped to think and then let yourself panic instead of asking for a little help. My mom and sister want to help you if you need it, Amy. And so do the rest of the family. But you have to be willing to receive help.” He paused to let his words sink in before going on.

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