Page 27 of Just My Puck
I survey the house numbers until I finally find the office of Dr. Stuart. Inside the practice, there’s a small waiting room with magazines, so I pick one to page through while I wait.
Before long, the door of the office opens, and a fifty-something man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes steps into the waiting room. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Stuart,” he says, offering his hand. “Welcome. Jane, is it?”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. “I go by Aria now.”
His eyes shimmer with interest as he smiles. “Aria, come on in.”
His office is warm and inviting, boasting a large mahogany bookshelf that stretches across most of the far wall, its shelves filled with neatly arranged texts. A brown leather couch and matching armchair sit facing each other in the center of the room, the soft light from a nearby lamp casting a cozy glow over the space.
I take a seat on the couch, and he grabs a notebook before sitting down across from me.
“Dr. Silva wrote me a long note about your condition, and I’m here to take over your treatment. To help you navigate these difficult times. Can you start by telling me how you are doing? And what these last few days looked like for you?”
“I’m okay,” I say, wringing my hands. “I mean, I feel a little weird. And kind of . . . empty. Frustrated too. But I guess it could be worse.” A smile pulls at my lips. “I’ve been staying with Caleb Hawthorne, and he’s been truly wonderful.”
“Yes, I see that in your file. Do you have everything you need there?”
“More than I could ask for. He’s even introduced me to his friends, and they took me shopping yesterday.”
“Wow, so you’ve had a busy few days already. That’s good, really good. I was going to encourage you to find a name and start thinking about going out and making friends, but you’re already one step ahead.”
“It was his idea, actually. He thought some girl talk and fresh air would help.”
“And did it?”
“Not with my memory, but in terms of my mental health, I’d say so. I feel a lot better, like I have something to hold on to, rather than just ruminating about the things I don’t know.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” he says, scribbling something in his notebook. “What you’re doing is very healthy. What about food? Have you been exploring different options?”
“I have,” I say, struggling to suppress a chuckle. “Actually, Caleb ordered about ten different pizzas yesterday so I could try them all. It helped. I learned that in my opinion, pineapple has no business on a pizza.”
He laughs softly. “I agree with you on that one. But this is good. I want you to keep doing that. Not ordering every dish on the menu, per se, but trying different foods instead of just sticking to what you know. At least for a while. I also would like you to listen to different styles of music, engage in different activities to see what resonates with you.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. What kind of activities?”
“I always encourage routine tasks. Like grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, et cetera. Engaging in things that most of us do on a daily basis, and the movements and smells that come with them, can help with recalling fragments of lost memory.”
I clasp my hands. “Yes, absolutely. Caleb has a big house, so there is plenty to do.”
“Don’t exhaust yourself, naturally. It’s also very important that you have a support system. Since you’ve already made friends, I’d encourage you to nurture those relationships. In a way that feels right to you, of course. When in doubt, always trust your gut.”
I draw a small breath, nodding. “Okay.”
“Last thing I’m going to ask you is to keep a journal to track your daily activities and emotions. This will build a sense of continuity and help your brain reorganize.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” I say, excited about that one.
“Great.” He offers a warm smile. “I know this is a lot of information for your first session, and you’re doing great. Just know that if at any point you feel lost or overwhelmed, you can talk to me. I’ll give you my card so you can call or text me, day or night, and I’ll do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind, but I think I’m okay. It helps that I’m not alone. Staying at the hospital would have been a whole different ball game.”
“Yes, you were lucky. We do see better results in patients who are living at home or a homelike environment compared to patients staying in the hospital or a long-term care facility. Unfortunately, we don’t always have a choice.”
“Lucky” is the right word. I do feel fortunate that, given my circumstances, Caleb is the one who slammed into me in the first place, because I’mpretty sure most people wouldn’t have taken care of me the way he does.
“Before we finish our session, I want to do a couple of small games, activities that will challenge your brain and help you explore your likes and dislikes again. Then, I’ll give you the journal and let you rest for the day.”
We work through a few simple memory exercises, trying to piece together bits of my past. Each question feels like a small puzzle I can’t quite solve. The activities are light enough but mentally exhausting, and I can feel my brain straining to grasp on to whatever fragments it can.
