Now, youve bumped up against this problem of personal identity head-on and in an acute form. You think that just because you cant remember your name youre a nothing. Youre wrong. The self does not exist in a name. A name is just a word, a form of description which we give ourselves a mere matter of convenience. The self that awareness in the midst of your being which you call I is still there. If it werent, youd be dead.
You also think that just because you cant remember incidents in your past life your personal world has come to an end. Why should it? Youre still breathing; youre still alive. Pretty soon youll be out of this hospital a thinking, questioning man, eager to get on with what he has to do. Maybe we can do some reconstructions; the odds are that youll have all your memories back within days or weeks. Maybe it will take a bit longer. But Im here to help you do it. Will you let me?
I looked up at that stern face with the absurdly gentle eyes and whispered, Thanks. Then, because I was very tired, I fell asleep and when I woke up again Susskind had gone.
But he came back next day. Feeling better?
Some.
He sat down. Mind if I smoke? He lit a cigarette, then looked at it distastefully. I smoke too many of these damn things. He extended the pack. Have one?
I dont use them.
How do you know?
I thought about that for fully five minutes while Susskind waited patiently without saying a word. No, I said. No, I dont smoke. I know it.
Well, thats a good start, he said with fierce satisfaction. You know something about yourself. Now, whats the first thing you remember?
I said immediately, Pain. Pain and floating. I was tied up, too.
Susskind went into that in detail and when he had finished I thought I caught a hint of doubt in his expression, but I could have been wrong. He said, Have you any idea how you got into this hospital?
No, I said. I was born here.
He smiled. At your age?
I dont know how old I am.
To the best of our knowledge youre twenty-three. You were involved in an auto accident. Have you any ideas about that?
No.
You know what an automobile is, though.
Of course. I paused. Where was the accident?
On the road between Dawson Creek and Edmonton. You know where those places are?
I know.
Susskind stubbed out his cigarette. These ash-trays are too damn small, he grumbled. He lit another cigarette. Would you like to know a little more about yourself? It will be hearsay, not of your own personal knowledge, but it might help. Your name, for instance.
I said, Dr Matthews called me by the name of Grant.
Susskind said carefully, To the best of our knowledge that is your name. More fully, it is Robert Boyd Grant. Want to know anything else?
Yes, I said. What was I doing? What was my job?
You were a college student studying at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. Remember anything about that?
I shook my head.
He said suddenly, Whats a mofette?
Its an opening in the ground from which carbon dioxide is emitted volcanic in origin. I stared at him. How did I know that?
You were majoring in geology, he said drily. What was your fathers given name?
I dont know, I said blankly. You said was. Is he dead?
Yes, said Susskind quickly. Supposing you went to Irving House, New Westminster what would you expect to find?
A museum.
Have you any brothers or sisters?
I dont know.
Which if any political party do you favour?
I thought about it, then shrugged. I dont know but I dont know if I took any interest in politics at all.
There were dozens of questions and Susskind shot them at me fast, expecting fast answers. At last he stopped and lit another cigarette. Ill give it to you straight, Bob, because I dont believe in hiding unpleasant facts from my customers and because I think you can take it. Your loss of memory is entirely personal, relating solely to yourself. Any knowledge which does not directly impinge on the ego, things like the facts of geology, geographical locations, car driving know-how all that knowledge has been retained whole and entire.
He flicked ash carelessly in the direction of the ash-tray. The more personal things concerning yourself and your relationships with others are gone. Not only has your family been blotted out but you cant remember another single person not your geology tutor or even your best buddy at college. Its as though something inside you decided to wipe the slate clean.
I felt hopelessly lost. What was there left for a man of my age with no personal contacts no family, no friends? My God, I didnt even have any enemies, and its a poor man who can say that.
Susskind poked me gently with a thick forefinger. Dont give up now, bud; we havent even started. Look at it this way theres many a man who would give his soul to be able to start again with a clean slate. Let me explain a few things to you. The unconscious mind is a funny animal with its own operating logic. This logic may appear to be very odd to the conscious mind but its still a valid logic working strictly in accordance within certain rules, and what we have to do is to figure out the rules. Im going to give you some psychological tests and then maybe Ill know better what makes you tick. Im also going to do some digging into your background and maybe we can come up with something there.
I said, Susskind, what chance is there?
I wont fool you, he said. Due to various circumstances which I wont go into right now, yours is not entirely a straightforward case of loss of memory. Your case is one for the books and Ill probably write the book. Look, Bob; a guy gets a knock on the head and he loses his memory but not for long; within a couple of days, a couple of weeks at the most, hes normal again. Thats the common course of events. Sometimes its worse than that. Ive just had a case of an old man of eighty who was knocked down in the street. He came round in hospital the next day and found hed lost a year of his life he couldnt remember a damn thing of the year previous to the accident and, in my opinion, he never will.
He waved his cigarette under my nose. Thats general loss of memory. A selective loss of memory like yours isnt common at all. Sure, its happened before and itll happen again, but not often. And, like the general loss, recovery is variable. The trouble is that selective loss happens so infrequently that we dont have much on it. I could give you a line that youll have your memory back next week, but I wont because I dont know. The only thing we can do is to work on it. Now, my advice to you is to quit worrying about it and to concentrate on other things. As soon as you can use your eyes for reading Ill bring in some textbooks and you can get back to work. By then the bandages will be off your hands and you can do some writing, too. You have an examination to pass, bud, in twelve months time.
II
Susskind drove me to work and ripped into me when I lagged. His tongue could get a vicious edge to it when he thought it would do me good, and as soon as the bandages were off he pushed my nose down to the textbooks. He gave me a lot of tests intelligence, personality, vocational and seemed pleased at the results.
Youre no dope, he announced, waving a sheaf of papers. You scored a hundred and thirty-three on the Wechsler-Bellevue you have intelligence, so use it.
My body was dreadfully scarred, especially on the chest. My hands were unnaturally pink with new skin and when I touched my face I could feel crinkled scar tissue. And that led to something else. One day Matthews came to see me with Susskind in attendance. Weve got something to talk about, Bob, he said.
Susskind chuckled and jerked his head at Matthews. A serious guy, this very portentous.
It is serious, said Matthews. Bob, theres a decision you have to make. Ive done all I can do for you in this hospital. Your eyes are as good as new but the rest of you is a bit battered and thats something I cant improve on. Im no genius Im just an ordinary hospital surgeon specializing in skin. He paused and I could see he was selecting his words. Have you ever wondered why youve never seen a mirror?
I shook my head, and Susskind chipped in, Our Robert Boyd Grant is a very undemanding guy. Would you like to see yourself, Bob?
I put my fingers to my cheeks and felt the roughness. I dont know that I would, I said, and found myself shaking.
Youd better, Susskind advised. Itll be brutal, but itll help you make up your mind in the next big decision.
Okay, I said.
Susskind snapped his fingers and the nurse left the room to return almost immediately with a large mirror which she laid face down on the table. Then she went out again and closed the door behind her. I looked at the mirror but made no attempt to pick it up. Go ahead, said Susskind, so I picked it up reluctantly and turned it over.
My God! I said, and quickly closed my eyes, feeling the sour taste of vomit in my throat. After a while I looked again. It was a monstrously ugly face, pink and seamed with white lines in arbitrary places. It looked like a childs first clumsy attempt to depict the human face in wax. There was no character there, no imprint of dawning maturity as there should have been in someone of my age there was just a blankness.
Matthews said quietly, Thats why you have a private room here.
I began to laugh. Its funny; its really damn funny. Not only have I lost myself, but Ive lost my face.
Susskind put his hand on my arm. A face is just a face. No man can choose his own face its something thats given to him. Just listen to Dr Matthews for a minute.
Matthews said, Im no plastic surgeon. He gestured at the mirror which I still held. You can see that. You werent in any shape for the extensive surgery you needed when you came in here youd have died if we had tried to pull any tricks like that. But now youre in good enough shape for the next step if you want to take it.
And that is?
More surgery by a good man in Montreal. The top man in the field in Canada, and maybe in the Western Hemisphere. You can have a face again, and new hands, too.
More surgery! I didnt like that; Id had enough of it.
You have a few days to make up your mind, said Matthews.
Do you mind, Matt? said Susskind. Ill take over from here.
Of course, said Matthews. Ill leave you to it. Ill be seeing you, Bob.
He left the room, closing the door gently. Susskind lit a cigarette and threw the pack on the table. He said quietly, Youd better do it, bud. You cant walk round with a face like that not unless you intend taking up a career in the horror movies.
Right! I said tightly. I knew it was something that had to be done. I swung on Susskind. Now tell me something who is paying for all this? Who is paying for this private room? Who is paying for the best plastic surgeon in Canada?
Susskind clicked his tongue. Thats a mystery. Someone loves you for sure. Every month an envelope comes addressed to Dr Matthews. It contains a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and one of these. He fished in his pocket and threw a scrap of paper across the table.
I smoothed it out. There was but one line of typescript on it: FOR THE CARE OF ROBERT BOYD GRANT.
I looked at him suspiciously. Youre not doing this, are you?
Good Christ! he said. Show me a hospital headshrinker who can afford to give away twelve thousand bucks a year. I couldnt afford to give you twelve thousand cents. He grinned. But thanks for the compliment.
I pushed the paper with my finger. Perhaps this is a clue to who I am.
No, its not, said Susskind flatly. He looked unhappy. Maybe youve noticed Ive not told you much about yourself. I did promise to dig into your background.
I was going to ask you about that.
I did some digging, he said. And what Ive been debating is not what I should tell you, but if I should tell you at all. You know, Bob, people get my profession all wrong. In a case like yours they think I should help you to get back your memory come hell or high water. I take a different view. Im like the psychiatrist who said that his job was to help men of genius keep their neuroses. Im not interested in keeping a man normal I want to keep him happy. Its a symptom of the sick world we live in that the two terms are not synonymous.
And where do I come in on this?
He said solemnly, My advice to you is to let it go. Dont dig into your past. Make a new life for yourself and forget everything that happened before you came here. Im not going to help you recover your memory.
I stared at him. Susskind, you cant say that and expect me just to leave it there.
Wont you take my word for it? he asked gently.
No! I said. Would you if you were in my place?
I guess not, he said, and sighed. I suppose Ill be bending a few professional ethics, but here goes. Im going to make it short and sharp. Now, take a hold of yourself, listen to me and shut up until Ive finished.
He took a deep breath. Your father deserted your mother soon after you were born, and no one knows if hes alive or dead. Your mother died when you were ten and, from what I can gather, she was no great loss. She was, to put it frankly, nothing but a cheap chippy and, incidentally, she wasnt married to your father. That left you an orphan and you went into an institution. It seems you were a young hellion and quite uncontrollable so you soon achieved the official status of delinquent. Had enough?
Go on, I whispered.
You started your police record by the theft of a car, so you wound up in reform school for that episode. It seems it wasnt a good reform school; all you learned there was how to make crime pay. You ran away and for six months you existed by petty crime until you were caught. Fortunately you werent sent back to the same reform school and you found a warden who knew how to handle you and you began to straighten out. On leaving reform school you were put in a hostel under the care of a probation officer and you did pretty well at high school. Your good intelligence earned you good marks so you went to college. Right then it looked as though you were all right.