Chapter 6 Lost In My Head
I very delicately explain to Walt that he's wrong; I wasn't the one in his cabin all those days ago. He's perplexed and confused but says he trusts me and if I say it wasn't me then he believes me. Dr Weston decides to call in a psychiatrist to visit with Walt to assess his mental state. Everyone is still reassuring me that though Walt's memory issues are concerning they aren't all that uncommon when someone has taken the blows he has. Not just the physical ass whooping he received but the loss of Martha, subsequent chain of events after that and the general nature of his job. The head doctor says he has PTSD. Well thanks for that diagnosis doctor fucking obvious. He also goes on to explain that due to Walt's head injury his memories haven't been stored properly. There was basically a disconnect. He assures us all that he expects Walt to recover his proper memories it just might take time. This is going from bad to fucking off the charts bad and I'm not sure how much more either of us can take.
I'm scared and I know Walt is too. He says he's OK but I know different. He's just being his usual stubborn ass self. I've decided to call over the Cumberland County for some relief deputies so I can stay with Walt. Once the deputies get here I meet with them as well as Ferg and outline my plan to take some time off. I put Ferg in charge and make sure everyone is squared away and knows what is expected of them and what the chain of command is. I have no doubts that Ferg will rise up to this challenge and neither does Walt. Ferg has proven himself and his judgment is sound. He'll seek guidance if needed. With all that settled, I am free to devote my time to Walt and his healing.
So I guess the MD after their names does mean something. It's only been 36 hours and Walt has regained his proper memories. It hasn't helped his mental state any though. If anything I think he's pulling further into himself. He says he's ashamed of how he's acted over the last year. Embarrassed and guilty and debased and any and every other word that describes failure. I don't placate him and tell him it's OK and everything is forgiven because that's not true. I'm not sure if anything will ever be ok again but what I do tell him is that he's not alone and that I'll stick with him and together we can work through all this shit. Try to find our new normal and hopefully some of the good we use to have will come back.
I'm told Walt will be discharged tomorrow. Thank goodness. He's of course not free from medical follow up. He has a string of follow up medical appointments and scheduled head shrinkage to be done. I asked Ferg to check out the state of the cabin and give me a list of things I need to have arranged before we head home but he said when he got out there the place was immaculately clean and there was no sign of the crime scene. I asked Cady about it and she had no clue that took care of things. I can only assume it was the wayward Nation.
The drive out to the cabin was slow going. Walt though happy to be free of the hospital was still understandably uncomfortable and try as I might to drive smoothly I think I hit every pothole in the county. The closer we got to the cabin the quieter Walt got if that is possible. I can tell the cogs are turning in his mind I just hope it's good ones and not the latter. As we cross the threshold, Walt in front of me, I see his shoulders slump and the trembling slowly build from a simmer to full on all consuming release. The only thing I know to do his guide him to the sofa and hold him tightly until it passes.