Kagome took each day for what it was: a possibility.
It was possible that Inukimi would remember her. It was possible that she'd remember Sesshoumaru.
It was possible that she wouldn't remember anything.
There was no cure for this; she'd seen people deteriorate even under the influence of modern medicine and technology, their loved ones withering away with the thought of a possibility.
She had no connection to this creature, other than the want, the need, to help others.
But as she sat there, Inukimi's head in her lap, her large nose nudging sodden bandages under Sesshoumaru's watchful eye, Kagome began to hope.