Pasadena Memorial Hospital
Hello. I have been told that my name is Sheldon Lee Cooper and I'm keeping a journal at the request of the psychologist, Dr. Flynn, who is interested in my case. He wants my thoughts, impressions and details of experiences or places that I might find 'familiar'.
I suppose this is as good a point as any to recap the events that preceded my current situation. Please bear in mind that I have no memory of these events and am recounting only what I've been told happened before I regained consciousness for more than brief periods.
Strangely enough, I can remember everything that occurred the instant after I became 'self aware'. It is as if I have a video recording in my mind.
It begins at CalTech, in the physics laboratories. CalTech is a university in Pasadena, California where, I am told. I'm a theoretical particle physicist of some stature. To be honest, I don't have a clue what that is although it does sound very impressive, doesn't it?
'I've called 911 and University Security is on their way. Oh, God! So much blood!' This is a man's voice and he wheezes as he speaks. There is something in my eyes and I can't seem to open them.
'Don't move him! He might have a spinal cord injury! Jesus, Leonard, pull it together and quit crying. We need to immobilize him until the paramedics get here.' A woman's voice this time. An angry woman but she had such a gentle touch as she stroked my face.
'Winkle, what happened? One minute we're energizing the new laser and the next, POW!'
'That's hardly important. Let the Accident Board figure it out. Where the fuck are the paramedics? He's going to bleed out if they don't get their asses here ASAP!' Her voice was exasperated and impatient, so unlike her touch.
I must have lost consciousness because my next memory segments are a series of disjointed audio and video 'memories' that I'm told are from the ER at Pasadena Memorial Hospital about 4pm on the day of the 'accident'.
'Cut his clothes off him and let's do a quick examination for other injuries. Watch the IV and…' That was a brusque male voice and I wondered why they were cutting my clothes from me but I must have passed out again.
I next remember hearing voices in the hallway - loud voices, tinged with panic.
'He hit the wall hard and then – oh God, there was so much blood…' That was the 'Wheezing Man's" voice. He must be asthmatic.
'Dr. Hofstadter, you and Dr. Winkle need to calm down and let us attend to him. You also need to have those cuts sutured and I think Dr. Winkle will need an ortho consult on her wrist.' That voice was a woman's, and I wondered how doctors came to be injured them selves?
'Oh, shit! Leslie, your wrist – it's broken!' Again the Wheezing Man spoke.
Four days passed and in that time I was whisked to an operating room to have a 'bleed' repaired and then I was in ICU for several days since my brain had 'swelled'. I'm also told that my hair will soon grow back although I have yet to see what I look like in a mirror.
I wonder if I'll know the man in the mirror. I hope so. I only know what I've been told by others, all of who are well-meaning souls and my friends although I don't remember any of them.
All my friends dress in layers of various fabrics except for the blonde woman who sang a ridiculous song about soft kittens and cried incessantly. The blonde, 'Penny', seems to dress for comfort not for modesty. She is very emotional, crying when I smile when she calls me 'Moon Pie'. I wonder if I'm a Native American?
They told me that my mother suffered a minor heart attack when Leonard (the Wheezing Man) called and told her I'd been injured so only my sister came to visit from my immediate family. They live in Texas and that explains the accent I hear when I speak.
She calls me 'Shelly' and is my twin, younger by 8 minutes. She fills me in on so much although it takes a while to sift through the sheer mass of data she relates to get the basic information about who I am.
She also lets it slip that I've lost my memory, as if it's a secret. Obviously, I know I've lost my memory. Jesus, what a doofus. Still, she's my sister and I suppose I love her. I just don't know her.
I was awakened from a sound sleep by lips pressed against mine. They were rather lifeless and a bit cool but it was the pure pulse of adrenalin that brought me to an amazing state of awareness.
"Hello, Sheldon. I'm Amy Farrah Fowler and I'm so glad you're awake and reasonably alert for there is much to tell you. We are lovers, Sheldon, and have been secretly having an illicit affair for months but now that I'm free, we can let our friends know."
I'm suddenly very aroused and my lover is lying half on and half off my hospital bed and I take advantage of the situation and kiss her, softly at first but then increasing the pressure on her lips and sliding my tongue into her mouth as my passions mount. The reaction is not what I expected.
Amy Farrah Fowler broke our kiss and stood back from the bed out of my reach and with an expression of horror on her face.
"You really don't remember anything, do you, Sheldon? What was that? You don't know me and yet you attempted to…have your way with me? What I told you was all a lie, Sheldon, designed to evoke some response reminiscent of the Sheldon Cooper we all know but…it's true. You don't remember any of us at all, not even a little bit?"
I replied in the negative. "No, I'm sorry, I don't." She starts to cry and turns abruptly and leaves the room. I notice that she also wears multiple layers of clothing and wonder if it's winter.
I shake my head in sheer wonder. Is there no one in my life who is normal?
There seems to be a constant stream of visitors now that I've been moved to a private room.
Some pompous douche bag came by and told me the University was holding my position open 'until you recover, Dr. Cooper'. The University was picking up all my expenses and would I please sign this form absolving the University of any wrongdoing?
A soft but definitely pissed-off voice from the doorway interrupts our discussion. I have pen in hand ready to sign and the douche bag is almost gloating in triumph.
"Don't sign it, Moon Pie. He just wants to make sure you can't sue them for getting hurt. He's taking advantage of you, Sheldon. Don't sign a damn thing until you're out of here and can think straight and maybe see a lawyer."
Okay, so maybe there was one normal person – the blonde girl, Penny, my most frequent visitor.
The douche bag exits, and Penny takes his place, scooting the chair close to my bedside and smoothing out the sheet and blanket. Her eyes are all red and puffy and I believe she's been crying.
"Penny," I say, hoping to draw her out and find out what's making her upset, "what's wrong? Where's Leonard? You two seem – inseparable."
Indeed, when Penny visited, Leonard was by her side and seemed unsettled when Penny showed how concerned she was for me. They'd probably had a fight about it. I don't need my memories to know that Leonard is terribly insecure.
"He's being a butt-head about some stuff. Nothing you should be concerned about. I know I ask the same thing over and over and you must be tired of telling me over and over, but have you remembered anything at all, Sheldon?"
"I'm sorry, Penny, but no, I haven't. Perhaps you should be home assuring Leonard of your commitment rather than spending your time off here."
"You don't want me to visit?" I can see the tears in her eyes and I wonder why she is so upset. I have already surmised that I'm not good with emotions or reading people's moods based on facial expressions.
"Oh, no, Penny. I enjoy your visits but hopefully you won't have to come here to visit me any longer. I'm being discharged once the doctors are satisfied that I won't stroke out on them. You won't have to disrupt your day and can spend more time with Leonard."
She looks at me for a full minute, just looking and then asks me 'why the sad look, Sheldon?'
I have just realized something monumental. "Penny, I don't know where I live."