The Seventh Day

Today is the seventh day, or so I'm told.
A week ago today a freak car accident nearly killed me, or at least that's what they say happened.
I don't remember anything past ten minutes ago.
I had to be taught what my name was by the doctors as they replaced my IV bags with fresh saline, and I had to be told that my mother was killed in a skiing accident 3 years ago when I asked if I could talk to her. I had to be reminded that I didn't normally wear a hospital gown that exposed my posterior. I didn't remember.
They say that I'm 16, and that I just got my license the day before the crash. They tell me that I was on Interstate 44 in Missouri when a semi truck jacknifed behind be and my car was crushed.
They say that I was fully responsive at the scene, despite the hunk of twisted aluminum 17 inches long sticking out of my head.
They say that I was put into surgery immediately to stabilize the hunk of metal and that I was sent to the academic hospital at KU for further surgery. They tell me I was fully conscious whenever I wasn't on anesthesia.
Which is funny, because I woke up 10 minutes ago  with no recollection of anything before. I feel like a baby, one that has just become self aware. I have no precedent for anything, only what instinct and the doctors have taught me.
They say I have family that want to visit me, but I say no to  their requests.
I wouldn't remember them.