[14 May 2010]
They began reducing Ruth's sedatives yesterday. The doctors say that her body's healing well, and they hope she'll regain complete consciousness by tomorrow. When I saw her tonight, she was sleeping. I must say, it's wonderful to see a little more colour in her cheeks. Perhaps tomorrow she'll open her eyes. I've missed her beautiful, blue eyes.
[15 May 2010]
Ruth's awake but she doesn't remember anything; she doesn't even know her name. It's a terrible blow and must be a frightening experience for her. The doctor said that it happens sometimes. Retrograde amnesia, he called it. Hopefully her memory will come back with time, but no one can be sure if and when this might happen. He recommended that she see a specialist when she's been discharged from hospital.
After I'd spoken to him, I went to see her but, in the end, I didn't enter her room. Though the small window in the door, I saw that her mother was there, sitting by her bedside talking to her, and I didn't want to intrude. Besides, I have to work out what I'm going to say to her first. What do I tell her about her job and how much of our history do I share with her? She won't know who I am, what we mean to each other. And if she doesn't remember me, I can't help thinking that perhaps it's for the best. Perhaps it's time for her to move on and for me to let her go. Perhaps this is my chance to protect her, save her from further heartache and pain by removing her from any association with me and the murky world of espionage. Perhaps I should set her free. There is a lot to think about.
It was good to see her sitting up and talking though, to see her beautiful, blue eyes sparkle as her mother spoke. If I go through with this, how am I ever going to manage without her? My day hasn't properly begun until I see her eyes in the morning.