Nurse Sara looked at the screen a little longer before leaving, only to return about 10 minutes later with a cart full of vials, needles, and other medical devices. Grabbing a pair of gloves for herself, she returned to the cart and started preparing everything. "I am so sorry, sweetheart. I hate to do this to you, but we need to have a baseline to understand how to help you." Joan opened her mouth again, hoping to say, ‘Do what you need; I can't remember,’ but only a moan escaped, this time with a longer tone as Joan tried to form the words with her mouth.
"You are doing such a good job. Keep trying to say what you need to. If nothing comes out in a little bit, I'll get a notepad and pen, and hopefully, we can communicate like that." The nurse then started sanitizing Joan’s arm, preparing to take her blood when a knock came at the door. “Come in!” the nurse called, and the door slowly opened.
A cute little nurse stuck her head in. “I have family here to see the patient: her mother and the patient's boyfriend," the little nurse squeaked.
"Family is already here?" Nurse Sara asked, her voice clearly confused.
"Yes, ma'am. Apparently, they were called while the patient was in the ambulance."
Nurse Sara shifted her weight onto one leg. "Have you seen the ambulance report? Do you know what happened to it?" The nurse at the door stepped in a little further at this question. "No, I haven't seen any report. It's just what the family has told us. How can we be missing an ambulance report? I’ll see who checked the patient in. They should be able to get you the reports you need." Nurse Sara nodded. “Thank you, you can let the family in.” The nurse at the door nodded back and quickly disappeared down the hall towards the ER entrance.
Sara turned back to the cart, picked up a thin needle, and inspected it intently before heading towards Joan's arm again. "Your family is here already. I am so sorry about this confusion with your records, but I have to admit it’s good to have family here so quickly. Maybe they can help you to start communicating with us today." After a little pinch, Nurse Sara had inserted the IV into Joan's arm, then turned to the cart and retrieved the first vial to fill with blood.
When she went to collect the second vial, there was another knock at the door, faint but still heard by the nurse, who stood up and called out, "Come in." The door opened, and a little middle-aged woman stuck her head in, her hair in a messy bun. The best part was that Joan recognized her.
Joan's mother was standing in the doorway, and as soon as they saw each other, they both burst into tears. Joan started making quiet moans and grunts as she felt the stream of tears falling down her cheeks and onto the sheets. Her mother burst into the room, throwing the door open, revealing a young man in his early twenties standing behind her.
Her mother embraced her, both gasping for air between sobs. Joan held her mother and felt a comfort that seemed foreign rush over her. Joan knew this woman; this was her mother, Claire, and oh, how she remembered her well. Of all the things from the past couple of hours that she couldn't remember, this woman, whose arms were now wrapped around her shoulders, was her mother.
Joan was so focused on her mother holding her that she was shocked when the large arms of the young man wrapped around them both, holding them close. Just like when Joan first felt her mother's embrace, she felt the same foreign comfort and knew who he was. His name was Henry, and she knew him, too. Memories of first dates at burger shops and little ice cream parlors flooded her mind, bringing a whole new wave of tears. She could remember this feeling, receiving comfort from these two people whom she remembered and loved so much, so why did the whole experience feel foreign and new?
Oh, how Joan wished she had been feeling this way during the last few hours that she couldn't remember. She imagined being smothered by her loved ones to the point that they had to bring her to this hospital, and that idea made her feel better. She knew it wasn’t the real reason, but it felt good to think it was. She wasn't here because of an accident; she was here because the people who loved her wanted to give her more love. Joan felt waves of tingling begin to flow through her body, starting at the top of her head and slowly moving down to her toes. Those waves started hitting faster and harder, until Joan began jerking with each one.
Joan didn't know what was wrong. These waves started making her convulse, and she fell back on the bed. Sara pressed a bright red button on the wall behind her, and a loud alarm went off in the room. Claire and Henry backed away from Joan, pushing themselves against the wall with tears flowing down their cheeks. They wanted to stay out of the way, but seeing her in this state made their tears turn to sobbing again. Claire turned into Henry, who wrapped his arms around her. Nurses started streaming in, and Sara yelled, "Get them out of here," pointing at Claire and Henry, who were quickly escorted out of the room and down the hall.
Soon, the room was full of nurses, and Doctor Michael was close behind them. "What happened?" the doctor spoke loudly as he walked into the room, instantly joining the group trying to help Joan, as the convulsions kept flowing from her head down to her toes. She wished she could say something, anything, other than grunts and moans. Even though the waves looked like they were violently flowing through her, each wave was a flush of comfort that made her entire body feel as if it were comforting itself. However, with only grunts coming out, it seemed like a violent seizure to those around her.
"We can't calm her down; we need to sedate her. What do we give her, benzodiazepines?" The nurse was looking at the doctor while trying to ensure that Joan didn’t fall off the bed. At that moment, the doctor looked up, and his eyes met Joan's. He seemed to stare directly into her soul with his piercing green eyes. She felt as if she was finally communicating with him. ‘Please,’ she tried to say, ‘please help me.’ "Doctor!" yelled Nurse Sara after a few moments of silence as the doctor continued to stare deep into Joan's eyes.
"Doctor, Michael!?" A sudden realization hit him, and he stood straight up and looked her over from head to toe before replying, "No, give her ketamine. In fact, keep her on ketamine." The nurse looked shocked at the order. "But her convulsions, wouldn't benzodiazepines better control them?"
"Ketamine, Sara, please," the doctor said, looking at her with the gentlest of eyes. Joan wouldn't have held it against anyone for melting at his request. "Yes, sir. Prepare the ketamine; I need it in here, stat." It wasn't long before someone was next to Joan, injecting her with a vial of ketamine, and the effects were rapid. Her world began to change, and she was seeing moving squares and shapes; her body relaxed, and the convulsions stopped. The strange comfort was gone, but it was being replaced by a new sense of ease. As the ketamine spread through the rest of her body, she could feel its effects. In a peculiar way, she felt at home. Joan was about to pass out, and she wanted to try to say something—anything—before she lost consciousness. Reaching out, she caught the doctor's arm, and just before she blacked out, Joan blurted out slowly, "I'm me, not me."
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