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Two dying cancer patients are regenerated and become young again. Can they cope? Throughout a person’s life with a certain age comes a ‘state of mind’. A 5-year-old has a different state of mind to the 15-year-old, who in turn has a different state of mind to the 25-year-old, and so on. That, an appropriate state of mind, is what makes life appealing and enjoyable at a particular age. To regenerate the body is one thing, but how can a state of mind of two young people form again? What might it take? There is so much secrecy about this project. At times the novel is intrigue and suspense, and fears of the news leaking out. But who would believe two people in their early twenties were very old not long ago? Even Sally, the nurse-housekeeper, is inclined to believe the two in her charge are actors playing a part of having been ‘born again’.
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Chapter 1 A Medical Breakthrough
Joanne brought flowers. She always did. A red rose in pink rice paper. She placed the rose on the vivid white table next to the bed. She walked to the window and parted satin black curtains. Bright light entered. An old man lying in bed stirred awake. Eyes on the shimmering dust in a beam of brightness, falling on his head and around his head. Colored dust particles, glistening. The room rarely cleaned. That required moving the bed into a vacant room, else the dust caused by the cleaning could suffocate the dying patient. Depending on his health that day, even a low volume of dust made it hard to breathe. Sometimes there was no empty room available. Leaving the bed in the corridor not an option. People walked and stirred dust.
Joanne leaned to give Jason a kiss on the forehead. She sat down on a white chair by the bed, wondering how her friend was. Like in all severely ill, there were good days and bad. On a difficult day she might pass two hours explaining about the characters in a series he was watching on television. Characters which on a good day he recalled, and followed the story-line. Even on a bad day, so far, he hadn’t forgotten who she was and welcomed the company.
The beams of light enveloped both. Colors of brightness sliding over one another and entwining. An eternal dance of shimmering particles: yellowish hues, reddish, bluish.
“Any point asking how you are today?” She smiled.
Jason tried to smile. Of late that was painful.
“Doctors say a miracle you are still alive.”
Alive? What is life? Lying in a hospital bed, unable to eat or drink on his own. That of late didn’t bother him, because he vomited most of what he ate. Barely conscious. This was life? By whose definition? A newborn might be helpless, but eager to learn. That was life.
Jason had come to grips with death. Eighty-plus a ripe age. A full life including a failed childless marriage. After fifteen years his wife left, certain it was his fault they couldn’t have children. Contrary to medical opinion. She couldn’t accept she was the barren one. Such a hurt to receive a letter by courier, from her lawyer, saying their marriage was over. She didn’t return home that day. Jason never saw her again. During the last years of their partnership he had never stopped loving her. She became distant. Jason knew the reason. Blaming him for being childless. Silent anger grew. That was one of the saddest days of his life. That and when his younger brother passed away from cancer. Cancer ran in his family. Of course, to have lived a full life until eighty-plus wasn’t so bad.
An aggressive tumor robbed him of much movement. Lying in a hospital bed wasn’t life. When conscious he took to some television programs. On the screen was life! Curiously, the sport he always thought had to be the most boring in the world to watch, cricket, he now enjoyed. There was something ridiculous about men running about in the heat of summer chasing a ball. Perhaps as boring as his end life had become.
If he was hungry, or thirsty, of late barely an issue, he pressed a button for a nurse who spoon fed him. Jason was grateful he could manage to toilet on his own. Not easy to stand and walk without stumbling. Nurses had enough to do. The nurses wouldn’t let him shower alone. One sat outside. Usually a young eighteen-year-old. Helped him undress. Might even say how sexy he looked that day.
(End of extract)