“We’re going to a conference room to meet with Greg’s doctors and therapists,” he whispered.
The conference room held a long table and could have been a corporate room at Advent. A projector stood in the corner, and three people sat around the table in oversized plush rolling chairs. The two men and a woman appeared diminutive, like children. They offered kind words, but behind the kindness lay a quiet curiosity; I was a human-interest story. The men introduced themselves as Greg’s neurologist, Dr. Benedict, and his primary physician, Dr. Ludlow.
The woman opened a file. “My name is Dr. Goodman. I am Greg’s cognitive therapist. Greg has four therapists right now. That number will go down later, but I am the best person to speak to Greg’s current state of mind and his abilities, mental, physical, and emotional. I’m sure you understand. This is a terribly emotional event for him.” She spoke in a clinical tone, her voice devoid of any warmth and humanity.
I disliked her instantly. Yes, I’m pretty sure I get that. Terrible, check. Emotional, check. “Can we start at the beginning, please, Dr. Goodman?” I asked, quietly but forcefully.
Dr. Goodman nodded briskly. “Almost two years ago, Greg was robbed at gunpoint on a street in downtown Toronto at ten o’clock at night. Greg fought back, but the man who robbed him pushed him into the street and ran away. He was struck by an oncoming car, and the driver called 911. The driver had seen the altercation before he hit Greg, and he gave a statement to the police. But that’s all we knew of Greg since, with his wallet gone, there was no identification, credit cards, cell phone, or even receipts in his pockets, nothing. He was taken to St. Michael’s Hospital, where he remained in a vegetative state for about nine months. After nine months with virtually no change, he was classified as a permanent vegetative state and transferred here. This is a rehabilitation facility that also acts as a long-term care facility. Eight months ago, Greg started experiencing spontaneous consciousness, sometimes for only minutes or hours, and once for a day. Then about six months ago, he woke fully. At that time, he remembered nothing about himself. Greg’s memory loss was unique in that he retained a semantic memory, which is the ability to perform learned tasks, like reading. However, his episodic memory was gone. That is the portion of memory devoted to life experiences. He remembered nothing—no childhood, no family. He had no idea who the Prime Minister of Canada was or the President of the United States; we asked both, not sure if he was Canadian or American. He can, however, tie his own shoes. This is extraordinary. Most people in PVS for six months or longer must relearn everything. Greg had an astonishing baseline. But he still had no concept of himself. That was our biggest obstacle to progress, as it was very frustrating to him. Frustration hinders progress. Unfortunately, patients with TBI are—”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “What are TBI and PVS?”
“TBI stands for ‘Traumatic Brain Injury.’ That is what caused Greg’s PVS, which is ‘Persistent Vegetative State.’ You might call it a coma. They are essentially the same thing with some minor technical differences.” She shrugged nonchalantly.
Her blasé demeanor unnerved me. So casual, so laid-back. I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. “So where is he now? Can I see him?” I clutched the arms of the chair, my nails digging into the fabric. Impatient with their explanations and stories, I needed simply to see him, to verify with my own eyes that the man they were talking about was, in fact, my husband.
They exchanged glances, secretly communicating with their eyes. I felt like a pariah.
One of the men cleared his throat. “Claire…” I was surprised at his use of my first name, as if we were friends. “We think you should listen to the entire story before you see him. So you understand what to expect at this point.”
“Okay, fine. What should I expect?” I realized that my leg was shaking, bouncing, really, with nervous energy I couldn’t contain. Taking a deep breath, I forced my leg still with my hand and sat back in the chair, willing my body to appear relaxed.
Dr. Goodman turned to a new page in the file. “Greg has been in physical, occupational, and cognitive therapy for six months. A month ago, he moved to a group home, which is a government-funded housing specifically for patients with TBI in various stages of recovery. It’s the first step toward independence and reintroduction back into society. It teaches things like cooperative living, basic sharing skills, and relating and interactive skills. Now, fortunately in Greg’s case, he did pretty well with that. Like I said, his semantic memory is astonishing. It is probably the reason for his quick recovery.”