A Rose by Any Other Name

Chapter 2

[Edited July 15]

I woke up to the sound of more beeping and that asshole doctor glaring at me.

He frowned while scribbling something on a clipboard that I knew was probably chicken scratch and illegible. "You need to stop feeling so agitated."

"I'm not agitated." I snapped.

The doctor was murmuring to himself, "I will fucking sedate you."

I twisted my lips at that, not bothering to reply.

He checked my charts again, speaking quickly, "You just had an anxiety attack. You need to calm down. "

"I don't-" I said, "have anxiety."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe you do now. What's your name?"

I screwed my eyes in concentration, "...Darren."

He pulled up a chair, elegantly crossing one ankle over the other and pulling off his glasses. The lines around his face lessened and he looked almost sad for me. His fucking bedside manner was good, I'll give him that.

"We'll be doing some more tests to confirm but chances are you have some form of retrograde amnesia, Derrick."

That name felt more right somehow. Wait, what had he said?

"Do you remember anything before the accident?" He continued speaking but it took me a moment to process it all.

I looked around the room, looking for something to jog my memory, just seeing empty walls and the doctor's face staring back at me. Maybe my magic could help me, but when I tried to reach for it I just got a splitting pain at the back of my head.

The doctor frowned. "Your magic can't help you with this, Derrick." He started scribbling more things down while talking. "Physically speaking you'll be fine. But, if your amnesia persists we'll try cognitive therapy, and maybe hypnosis. Alex will give you the diet you're supposed to adhere to. It might pass." he paused, "But if it doesn't..." he looked away from me, "I guess we'll address that problem then. Your...Friend has my contact information. He said you'd be staying with him for the next few days."

I zoned back in, taking in his last few sentences. "No fucking way."

The doctor settled the glasses back on his face. "It's either staying at the hospital for the foreseeable future or staying with your friend."

I swore. "I don't even know that guy."

"You're only projecting your frustrations and anxieties onto us and your friend because you're scared about the fact everything is different now. It'll be okay, eventually. Whether or not you recover your memory, just go about your day to day life."

I wrung my hands in frustration, feeling like the doctor and I were speaking different languages. "What even is my day to day life?"

#

I frowned. "I'm not going in that."

Mike frowned even more. "Yes, you are."

I looked at the offending wheelchair, sturdy and dark, with wheels. It looked like it had seen some use but the implication that I wasn't capable of using my own two feet was what made it so repulsive to me in the moment.