Your mind is somewhere, but it's not here

Abstract

You don't remember me, but I was the medical student crying in the back of the room. The admission note described the bike accident you had a month ago, the gradual decline in cognitive function, the seizures, the emotional lability and agitation. But that's a detached way to describe how you toss and turn in bed, imploring us to help the babies you hear crying in the neighboring room, too confused to answer our questions, too obtunded at times to even know we were there. These days your favorite toy is a pink ball, your mother says, and she strokes your head as she hands it to you, then you drop it and she gives it to you again, and you drop it again, and we look at you with our white coats and stethoscopes as she describes how you were getting honors in high school.