SITTING AT HIS desk, Doctor Lynch held the x-ray of Lechaim's skull up to the light and pointed with his finger to reinforce his words, “Yes, Captain Lewis, you're a lucky man!” Switching his gaze to the man sitting before him, he noticed that the captain was barely listening. Curious! One would have thought that the nature and extent of the head injuries would have been of some interest to the man. After all, it was his head they were discussing.
Rising from his chair, the doctor walked out from behind the desk and examined the scar on Lechaim's cheek. He then parted the hair above Lechaim's left ear and noted that the exit wound had healed completely. The surgical scarring on the cranium from the operation was also healing nicely and was now covered over by the man's growth of blond hair that was slowly but surely growing back. Nevertheless, he still had the appearance of a shorn sheep. However, little external evidence remained of the soldier's head injuries now. The lacerations to the rest of his body had long since disappeared. As for the mystery of the eyes! The doctor didn't give the man's aunt's claim that such had changed colour much credence. Eyes just don't change colour, do they?
“We may be able to fix up any scarring later with some cosmetic surgery,” he murmured. “How are you feeling now? Any headaches at all?”
“No, Doctor, I feel fine! I have some gaps in my memory though! I still can’t remember a thing about the night I was injured. Will I be able to remember in time?”
The Doctor hesitated for a moment before responding. “In time, possibly! The brain's a delicate object and somewhat complex. We really still know very little about the way it functions and the effect trauma has on it. With injuries such as yours, partial amnesia is not uncommon. You may find that there will be occasions in the future where segments of time become distorted or are lost altogether. You may even suffer from hallucinations. When such occurs, if indeed it does, try not to be too alarmed. In due course, your brain will compensate and a state of normality will be reached. It will help when you come into contact with places and people you have known in the past. Such will reinforce images of your past and assist in your recovery.” Doctor Lynch paused to reflect.
“Time and patience are the important elements.”
The doctor considered for a moment before going on,
“One thing you need to be aware of. There may be occasions when you have blackouts. In your case, it's only a remote possibility as you have shown no signs of such to date. However, if you do experience these blackouts, then you may need additional treatment. Medication and the like.”
“Will I need to report back to you if this happens?”
“No, that won't be necessary. The Army will be taking care of you from now on. No doubt you'll be given a full examination and a clean bill of health prior to your return to duty. For now, rest is the key! I understand that you do not have to report back for some time?”
“The 14th of January to be exact, another seven or eight weeks!”
“Good! Well, I've no doubt the Army will take good care of you then” he said as he returned to his chair. He thumbed through the manila folder before him. “That burn on your thigh, I wouldn't worry about. A skin graft should take care of it!”
His words, “the burn on your thigh” echoed in Lechaim’s brain. Until that moment he had not made the connection but he suddenly remembered his mother’s letter and the message the warrior gave her, “branded with the Word of Yahweh”. But then the markings on his leg could hardly be described as the Word of Yahweh because they were meaningless so he dismissed the thought as unworthy of further consideration. The whole thing was starting to get to him.
“Thank you, Doctor” he retorted. “..but I've had enough of hospitals for the time being. I'm grateful to you for all you've done for me, but you will understand if I'm not too anxious to see the inside of another hospital for some time.”
“I appreciate your feelings, Captain. Sometimes I would like to escape myself” he joked looking as he spoke at the mountain of folders on his desk.
The Doctor envied the captain his youth and vitality. Over the years, the demanding nature of a doctor's calling coupled with his own particular proclivity for good living had drained any vitality out of him, and, at fifty-eight, he felt old and drained.
“What plans do you have? Your aunt informs me that you will be staying with her for a while.”
“Yes, but I intend to see the Cronins first. In fact, I'm going there after I leave here.”
“Ah, yes, the Cronins! They were the people that helped you that night, weren't they?” The question was purely rhetorical. Before Lechaim could answer, Doctor Lynch stood up and held out his hand. “Well Captain, there's nothing more I can do for you at the moment. Look after yourself and the best of luck.”
Lechaim shook hands with him, “Thank you, Doctor, for everything. Please thank the nurses as well. They've been very kind, especially Sister Flynn.”
“I'll be sure to tell them you said so!”
As Lechaim reached the door, Doctor Lynch added, “A word of warning! These are dangerous times here in Ireland as I've no need to remind you. Armagh is a hazardous place to be if you are a soldier in the English Army, especially, if you are on your own. Therefore, Captain, I suggest that if you must go to see the Cronins be on your guard!”
“You can rest assured that I'll be careful, Doctor”
The door closed and the doctor walked over to the window. Watching the big man stroll away across the quadrangle, Doctor Lynch sensed that he was watching a very special human being. It wasn’t just the statue of the man who stood six foot three with a physique to match. No, there was something about his demeanour and carriage that left a marked impression. He was everything a soldier should be and more. He was a man born to command.
He returned to his desk and eyed the paper he needed to wade through. Reaching for the packet of cigarettes in the top drawer of his desk, he was relieved to find that he had one left. Just one more and then he would definitely give them up – after all, tomorrow was always a good time to quit!