temporary blackouts things like that.”
A rod of panic travelled through Abby. “What?” she cried terrified. “I could have Alzheimer’s and you want to just send me home!”
Not that she had much of a clue about the disease other than what she’d learned from TV and books and such-like, but right then Abby couldn’t help but picture herself standing in the local shop dressed in her nightclothes, confused and wondering how she got there–things like that. And seeing as she lived alone, there would be no one around to keep an eye on her, no one to prevent her doing things like that, no one to help her…
The doctor quickly moved to appease her fears.
“Abby, as I said, that really isn’t the case. Yes, you will almost certainly suffer some form of memory … displacement … shall we say, but nothing as serious as Alzheimer’s. While can see the damage to the hippocampus on the scans, we can’t really tell how severe that damage is, or if it’s progressive. That’s the thing about the brain, Abby–it’s the most complex part of the body, and yet still the part that we know the least about.”
He handed her a card. “You remember the doctor that came to see you the first day, Doctor O’Neill? She may have already told you that she’s a neuropsychologist, specialising in TBI–Traumatic Brain Injury. She’ll help you make sense of the day-to-day impact of all of this in a way we can’t, and also, she’ll be able to monitor any changes that may occur from now on. You haven’t noticed anything different yet?”
“Definitely not. I’m tired and I’ve been getting some headaches but …”
“Very common following TBI,” Morrison said, nodding sagely. “Just keep an close eye on yourself for the next while, until I talk to you again, OK?”
Abby took the card he gave her and read the details on it. She didn’t like the idea of having to go and consult with yet another person, another doctor who would have an opinion on what might happen next and how she should deal with it.
She just couldn’t believe this; as far as she was concerned, she felt fine! Yes, there was a little bit of pressure in her head, and she was depressed about having to miss work and having to stay on in the hospital, but other than that she felt perfectly normal.
But hadn’t the doctor already admitted that he and that so-called American ‘expert’ were only second-guessing what might or might not happen? Chances were they were overanalysing the extent of this injury, and she could very well turn out to be fine.
“But at the same time, there might be nothing at all wrong with me?” she asked, pleading with him to give her at least a semblance of hope. “I mean, none of this might happen at all, right?”
“Perhaps so, but it’s unlikely …” the doctor fudged, and Abby didn’t like the grim set of his jaw, nor the very obvious doubt in his eyes.
Chapter 7
Finn Maguire was in a hurry and Lucy wasn’t helping. The ceremony was due to start at two-thirty and there she was, still lingering over lunch, not a care in the world.
“Luce, hurry up and finish that, will you? We’ll be late.”
Lucy looked up and with a barely imperceptible sigh, sulkily walked out of the room.
“Oh, come on–there’s no need to be like that, is there?” he called after her. “You know what the traffic’s like; it could take us an hour to get there.”
Actually an hour would be good going, despite the fact that they only had to travel twelve miles. But knowing the M50, the journey to the school in Blanchardstown could take that and longer. And he’d heard on the radio this morning that they were carrying out road works on the route which meant that they really needed to get going pronto, so Lucy acting up was the last thing he needed at the moment.
He grabbed a jacket and stole a quick look at his reflection in the hallway mirror on the way out, realising then that he’d forgotten to run a brush through his
A rod of panic travelled through Abby. “What?” she cried terrified. “I could have Alzheimer’s and you want to just send me home!”
Not that she had much of a clue about the disease other than what she’d learned from TV and books and such-like, but right then Abby couldn’t help but picture herself standing in the local shop dressed in her nightclothes, confused and wondering how she got there–things like that. And seeing as she lived alone, there would be no one around to keep an eye on her, no one to prevent her doing things like that, no one to help her…
The doctor quickly moved to appease her fears.
“Abby, as I said, that really isn’t the case. Yes, you will almost certainly suffer some form of memory … displacement … shall we say, but nothing as serious as Alzheimer’s. While can see the damage to the hippocampus on the scans, we can’t really tell how severe that damage is, or if it’s progressive. That’s the thing about the brain, Abby–it’s the most complex part of the body, and yet still the part that we know the least about.”
He handed her a card. “You remember the doctor that came to see you the first day, Doctor O’Neill? She may have already told you that she’s a neuropsychologist, specialising in TBI–Traumatic Brain Injury. She’ll help you make sense of the day-to-day impact of all of this in a way we can’t, and also, she’ll be able to monitor any changes that may occur from now on. You haven’t noticed anything different yet?”
“Definitely not. I’m tired and I’ve been getting some headaches but …”
“Very common following TBI,” Morrison said, nodding sagely. “Just keep an close eye on yourself for the next while, until I talk to you again, OK?”
Abby took the card he gave her and read the details on it. She didn’t like the idea of having to go and consult with yet another person, another doctor who would have an opinion on what might happen next and how she should deal with it.
She just couldn’t believe this; as far as she was concerned, she felt fine! Yes, there was a little bit of pressure in her head, and she was depressed about having to miss work and having to stay on in the hospital, but other than that she felt perfectly normal.
But hadn’t the doctor already admitted that he and that so-called American ‘expert’ were only second-guessing what might or might not happen? Chances were they were overanalysing the extent of this injury, and she could very well turn out to be fine.
“But at the same time, there might be nothing at all wrong with me?” she asked, pleading with him to give her at least a semblance of hope. “I mean, none of this might happen at all, right?”
“Perhaps so, but it’s unlikely …” the doctor fudged, and Abby didn’t like the grim set of his jaw, nor the very obvious doubt in his eyes.
Chapter 7
Finn Maguire was in a hurry and Lucy wasn’t helping. The ceremony was due to start at two-thirty and there she was, still lingering over lunch, not a care in the world.
“Luce, hurry up and finish that, will you? We’ll be late.”
Lucy looked up and with a barely imperceptible sigh, sulkily walked out of the room.
“Oh, come on–there’s no need to be like that, is there?” he called after her. “You know what the traffic’s like; it could take us an hour to get there.”
Actually an hour would be good going, despite the fact that they only had to travel twelve miles. But knowing the M50, the journey to the school in Blanchardstown could take that and longer. And he’d heard on the radio this morning that they were carrying out road works on the route which meant that they really needed to get going pronto, so Lucy acting up was the last thing he needed at the moment.
He grabbed a jacket and stole a quick look at his reflection in the hallway mirror on the way out, realising then that he’d forgotten to run a brush through his
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