Finding Me

By Dr. Alyssa Writes

Warning: this book may offend you, but in a way that holds you accountable. You will laugh your way into witnessing a man waking up without his memory. Before you roll your eyes, no, this isn't your typical amnesia story. You have no idea just how unpredictable this is. You aren't ready.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781736118092

Dr. Alyssa Writes

www.dralyssawrites.com

Book preview

Chapter One

It’s a typical day. Sure, I have the power to make it an atypical one, but I’m the type to just let life happen, ya know? Sure, I may make requests for the doctor to think outside the box in regards to my situation — but if he wishes to run the same tests the doctor from six months ago ran, I won’t push it. He’s the one with the degree, right? He wouldn’t just run tests and tell me my insurance is covering it without being certain, right? Being on pills to control my proteinuria — that’s supposed to help the kidney problems I don’t have, the chronic migraines I do have, and the hypertension that’s just a symptom to all the drama for the past fifteen years would make you presume I have a codependency on Western medicine, huh? Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I am codependent on nothing. I don’t even have a codependency when it comes to romantic relationships. If the woman wants me, she’ll be with me. Sure, I’ll be chivalrous to her, but if that chivalry dies on the vine, well, que sera sera, right? I’m not going to disrespect myself by battling for her attention. I’ve been through too much, and I’m working on being more honest with myself as a remedy. The heartache I feel is heavy. It’s as though my heart has been traumatized by a series of unfortunate events. What did I just go through? I can’t believe I’m blanking. How odd to feel such a thing without being able to recall any actual event. Ah, well, you must be thinking I’m a deadbeat guy who forgets everything yet solicits sympathy. Well, that’s another thing that is incorrect. I’m not that kind of guy. Well, at least I don’t think I am. OK, here. I’ll give an example of how strong of a memory I have. OK, well, hang on. Uh, well, this is kind of embarrassing, isn’t it? I don’t know why no example is coming to mind right now — but I promise I’ll have one when one decides to reach my brain. I’m just feeling a bit peckish right now. That must be why my mind is so foggy. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Whenever dating, I always move at the woman’s pace. I show her she matters by speaking in the love language she values most. Although, should there come a point where I feel I’m not being valued, I’ll speak up and allow ample opportunity for some kind of reciprocal respect to be given, but if none arrives, I’m out. That’s right. I’ll just leave. No additional notice. I spoke up once and she chose not to care, right? Fine. I see how that’s a bit pompous of me — but I’d be lying if I said I do anything less. I guess that’s why I’m alone. Wait. Am I alone? Well, let me tell you this. I’m not one to hold grudges. I hold no ill will toward anyone. Instead, I’ll erase you from memory. I know it’s my coping mechanism. Any therapist will tell you that. At least I know how to walk away from something that no longer serves me. This sort of thing is both a blessing and a curse — whether the relationship is platonic, romantic, or professional. They each bring so much joy and sorrow. All have blessed me by traumatizing me with both. I suppose life is about being able to juggle the three with integrity, respecting yourself and the rest of the universe as you perform. I know I’m being hypocritical, but offer me grace and allow me to be me. You are you. I am me. Anyway, what was I speaking of earlier? Oh, that’s right! So, I know many women find it distasteful that I’m unwilling to fight for their attention after giving them one chance to meet me where I want to be met. I mean, to be honest, there are many men who rule me as lazy for not offering more chances to work out what looks to be a good relationship. I guess that’s just the stubborn Taurus in me. Wait. Is that my zodiac sign? But, yeah. My friends will laugh at me as we sit at whatever sports bar, washing down our endless chicken wings with various cold beers — and I’m honestly not much of a beer drinker. I like my beer with extra root in it. Some comedic relief for you right there. You’re welcome. I can be funny. Hold on just a minute. Who am I talking to? I mean, I know I’ve had this whole conversation in my head with my eyes closed but, well, I don’t even know how to finish this sentence! I’m still in bed and need to get up. I better open my eyes now and get my day started. Oh. Uh, well, this is absolutely frightening. Why am I here? I must clearly still be dreaming — or at the very least, be lucid dreaming — because I’m in a hospital room! Why am I here? Did I overdose? Am I physically injured? Who can tell me? My forehead is becoming moist as my panic creates sweat. Why does the unknown always cause fear? If I don’t relax now, my blood pressure will be off the charts. Ouch! These IVs in my arm are painful! Why is no one in here helping me? Why can’t I be that patient who wakes up to a bunch of concerned people hovering over him? Wow. That sounds both dramatic and self-centered of me. Am I a Leo? How long have I been staying in a hospital? My door is wide open. Maybe the doctor was just in here and will be right back. Or maybe a reckless staff member left it open. Is there a law against that? Maybe it was just an honest mistake by a nurse. Nonetheless, I’d like someone to realize it and close the door. What if people pass by and see me panicking to the point they transfer me to the psychological part of the hospital? Or is this the psychological part of the hospital? Well, let me think of the positives here so I can calm myself down. Other than that woman with short, curly black hair peering into my room right now, I truly am physically comfortable in this bed. I actually feel an overwhelming sense of safety in this room. Although, I would appreciate it if that woman there shut the door instead of being a Peeping Ronda right now. Clearly, I must look like a ghost to her because after I locked eyes with her, she gave a fearful look, and ran away. Wait. Why did I name her Peeping Ronda? Wouldn’t Peeping Patty be more pleasing since the name begins with the same consonant as the verb? Whatever. Ronda sounds more mysterious so Ronda it is! Does she know me or does she go around looking into hospital rooms, giving puppy dog eyes to sick patients? This is frustrating. Why am I here? Am I sick? Did I get injured? Am I in some kind of pain? I guess I’ll find out eventually. I’m not going to sweat it anymore, but I will conclude that Ronda doesn’t work here because look at what she’s wearing! She’s in regular clothes and not scrubs! Then again, maybe her shift just ended or is about to begin and I’m her favorite patient so she prioritizes checking up on me before putting her scrubs on. Wait a second. Was she the one who left my door open? I’m a little more aware of the exposure the opened door brings. I’m feeling completely embarrassed and vulnerable in this gown while thinking all of these thoughts. I’m feeling extremely insecure. My zodiac sign must be Cancer. If so, I have to rise above all these insecurities and thoughts because the bottom line is the door has been left open and until someone closes it, I will, in fact, be seen. Introverts want to be seen as much as extroverts want to be understood. So, since many nurses and hospital admin are quickly passing by, one of them will eventually stop and close it, right? This opened door seems like a privacy violation! Did I already say that? Wait. What was that sound? Was that a horse? It also smells like horses are somewhere around. Whatever. Let me just pay attention to what I can physically see. I see that I’m wearing a hospital gown, I’m