Dr. Chad gathers a thick stack of papers from the printer and slips them into a glossy folder with the logo of her private practice printed on the front. Presumably, those are my test results that will—hopefully—explain what’s wrong with me. I watch her face for any clues, but her expression gives nothing away.
A tall, slender woman, she moves with natural grace. She reminds me of a model on a catwalk as she sashays over and hands me the folder before draping herself with easy confidence and innate elegance into the chair facing us. Stretching her arms along the armrests, she crosses her long legs.
Her shiny gray hair is cut in a short, funky bob. Light make-up accentuates her attractive features.
Regarding us with observant blue eyes from snazzy, red-framed spectacles, she says, “Those are your test results.”
For some reason, I find the doctor and the setting intimidating. Everything from her stylish person to the immaculate interior decoration is simply too perfect. I would’ve felt more at ease if a few of the scatter cushions were out of place. Instead of relaxing me, the flawless environment makes me nervous.
As if sensing my discomfort, Dante squeezes my hand.
The doctor smiles amiably. Her manner is always calm. Sometimes, I find that reassuring. At other times, such as now, it’s unnerving. A calm demeanor is often a smokescreen for delivering bad news.
She folds her hands in her lap. She has unblemished hands with slender fingers and manicured nails. She never fiddles or gestures with her hands. They’re as quiet as her composed manner when she says, “Mrs. Morici, the good news is that your test results don’t indicate physical head trauma.”
Dante clenches my hand so hard it hurts. “Then how do you explain the fact that she can’t remember?”
“Your wife’s amnesia is of a psychological nature.” Addressing me, she continues. “You’re suffering from selective amnesia.”
“What exactly is that?” Dante asks in a tight voice.
“That’s the terminology we use when a person loses a part or specific parts of their memory.”
Dante watches her with a stony expression. “Is there an explanation for why this happens?”
“In the event of no apparent physical damage, which is the case in your wife’s situation, it could be the mind’s way of protecting itself from a stressful event or a combination of events.”
Dante glances at me. “So she’s subconsciously suppressing the memories?”
“You could say so.”
I swallow. “Is there a treatment for that?”
“There’s a treatment for everything, Mrs. Morici.” Dr. Chad’s tone is friendly. “How well a patient reacts to the treatment depends on the individual.”
Dante rubs circles over my palm with his thumb. “What do you recommend?”
“I’d like to start with hypnotherapy. I’ve had great results using this method with my other patients, but you should know that it’s a long process that requires patience. There’s no magical fix.”
I’ve read she’s an expert in the field. She’s world renowned for hypnotizing patients when, due to health risks, general anesthesia can’t be administered during operations. Some of her patients have undergone open-heart surgery under hypnosis.
Dante looks at me again. When I nod, he turns back to the doctor. “How do we proceed?”
“I’ll schedule weekly sessions to start with.” Dr. Chad moves her gaze from Dante to me. “We can reduce the frequency later, depending on how well you react to the treatment.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Dante asks.
“Then we’ll discuss alternative treatments. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. In cases like these, it’s important to keep the patient’s stress levels reduced. We’ll focus on one thing at a time and look at alternatives if hypnotherapy doesn’t produce the desired results. Although, so far, it’s been the most effective and noninvasive method of therapy in the amnesia cases I’ve treated.”
Dante’s eyebrows snap together. “So there’s nothing more we can do with allopathic medicine?”
“Not for now. I could prescribe anti-anxiety and sleep medications, but Mrs. Morici indicated on her questionnaire that she preferred to try natural remedies, and I agree with her decision. Insomnia, which could be a stress-related side-effect of amnesia, isn’t an issue in this case, and we’ll work on breathing and mental exercises to manage panic attacks should more occur. I’m positive that these methods will be effective.” She fixes me with another friendly smile. “It’s normal that you’ll be eager to remember. Forgetting parts of your life is a great cause of anxiety. However, don’t be hard on yourself. Trying to force yourself to remember will only worsen your symptoms. The mind’s worst enemy is stress, especially with selective amnesia.”
“What if she asks about events she can’t remember?” Dante continues to rub soothing circles over my palm. “Can I tell her, or is it better that she remembers in her own time?”
“If you want to know anything, Mrs. Morici, you can ask your husband. Mr. Morici, don’t hesitate to tell her if she asks you to fill in the gaps for her. But don’t sit her down and give her a history lesson as some of the family members of my patients are inclined to do. They mean well, but instead of helping, rushing the process just adds to the anxiety of the patient.” She looks between us before settling her gaze on my face again. “You don’t have to feel pressured to remember anything. In most cases, the patient’s memory returns on its own.”
In most cases, meaning not necessarily in all.
