Episode Five So Who Am I?
"Tell me about myself," she asked. Dr. Reynolds picked up her file and sat back in the chair.
"You are Samantha Kay Hannery Blake," he read from her chart. "You were born February 22, 1985, in Fulton Valley, Ohio. You graduated from Youngstown State University with a degree in early childhood education. You are employed by PennMark, have been for the last three years, working to improve children's health and educational programs, nationwide and internationally. You started out doing relief work for the Red Cross when a devastating tornado hit your hometown. Last year on your birthday, you married Jakson Allan Blake in Clearwater at a beachside wedding ceremony. I was there. You were a stunning bride. And Jakson, well, I’ve never seen him so happy in his whole life. You two live on the beach in a condo on Gulfview Drive, just across the bay on the coast.”
“Do I have any family?”
“Parents are deceased. No siblings. But you have Jakson.” Again, how convenient, she thought.
"Okay. Tell me about Jakson."
"Jakson Allan Blake. Parents are wealthy diplomats in Great Britain. Jack and Miriam. Wonderful people, they’re good friends of mine. And they’re crazy about you. They claim you brought their son back to life. Jackson was born on May 4, 1980 in London, educated at Oxford. He’s a worldwide problem solver, a peacemaker, and an international miracle worker. Brilliant! Speaks seven languages. By occupation, he’s a binding arbitration mediator. And he gets fantastic results. He’s in very high demand all over the world."
"And he married ME?"
"You two are a perfect match!” Dr. Reynolds laughed heartily. “And I must say... he loves you, Samantha. He’s been so worried about you. In the hospital, he never left her side, even though I told him you didn't even know he was there. He sat with you and held your hand and kept telling you everything was going to be all right. He's devoted to you."
Samantha walked to the window. None of this was familiar. She remembered a small, lonely life. She remembered paperwork and maps and trucks and truck routes, a headful of numbers and formulas. She remembered huge manuals with state regulations. She remembered bad office coffee and good cheese Danish from the corner coffee shop. She remembered a small, quiet, dusty, colorless town.
“Any other questions?”
“Prognosis?”
“Complete recovery. You can go home. Call me if you have any strong or unusual head pain. Jakson has medication for you if you, so tell him if you need it. But call me immediately if you have head pain, or a blinding migraine, or nausea. Make an appointment in three weeks for bloodwork, and I’ll see you in a month, here, okay?” He handed her an appointment card.
“Okay. Home. It sounds wonderful,” she nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”
Dr. Reynolds left. She saw him talking to Jakson outside, Jakson nodding, looking very concerned. She read his lips. He said ‘yes, she’ll do it.’ Then the doctor left and Jakson came in. Do what, she wondered.
“I hear we’re going home! Great news, yes?” She nodded as she packed. Soon they were ready to leave.
“Let’s go, Sweetheart. You’re going to feel so much better once we get home. Familiar surroundings, with all your things, the things you love.”
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