The Afterlife of Alice Watkins 1

by Matilda Scotney

  Dr Grossmith was wasting his time expecting her to react. Alice had taken to watching his mouth move because he wasn’t making any sense. What on earth was he talking about?

  And it was manifestly plain to him he’d only succeeded in confusing her further.

  “You’ve been here with us for a long time,” he said, hoping a different approach might work. “Although you have been free of the Extended Life Support Prosthesis for four years, you never showed any awareness of your surroundings until a month ago.” He grimaced and pursed his lips, wondering if his context might be perplexing to an already clouded mind.

  But he knew no other description. The ELSP was the whole life support system used for the most critical patients until they recovered at least basic functioning on their own. She was on it for six years before weaning onto partial support.

  It meant nothing to Alice.

  Life Prosthesis? What was that? Alice moved her head from side to side, only managing enough movement to signify she didn’t understand. How, she asked herself again, is it possible for anyone to have a dream with words and things and ideas of which they had no waking knowledge and had never read about in a magazine?

  “You’re shaking your head, you don’t understand? You don’t remember?”

  Alice made the same movement again, only stronger this time and Dr Grossmith realised she’d agreed to both of his comments. She neither understood nor remembered.

  “Perhaps if we get you up and about, you may make better sense if it all. Tomorrow, we’ll check on your reflexes in readiness for walking. If all is well, we’ll get you moving.” He knew none of this was guaranteed to make a difference.

  “Your confusion is understandable,” he said. “This is a whole new world for us both, but you are doing remarkably well. We are very pleased with your progress.”

  Progress? The stroke? They said she hadn’t been in an accident. Maybe the dream. Do dreams progress?

  And then, if she wasn’t confused enough, before her eyes, after smiling and making a funny little bowing movement towards her, Dr Grossmith disappeared, as if by magic, through the curved, inside-out bubble in the wall. Alice didn’t understand technology, but she was sure no machine existed, which made people disappear and there was no way she had the ability to dream up such a thing.

  What if she never woke up and only stayed here like this? She supposed she might be hearing the doctors in St Mary’s talking about her in real life and what they were saying was filtering through to here, but it wouldn’t explain how Dr Grossmith, a real live person, could vanish into thin air.

  And where were Michelle and Eliza?

  She attempted to conjure them up, but nothing happened, then focused on the indentation in the wall where Dr Grossmith disappeared and imagined Michelle coming through, again, nothing. Perhaps if she called her name.

  “Michelle?”

  Kelly came over to her. “Did you say something?”

  Alice nodded. “Yes, Michelle, my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” Kelly pulled up a high stool and sat next to Alice’s bed, her face so kind and friendly, it made Alice glad Kelly was her nurse and would be with her all the time.

  “Sometimes,” Kelly told Alice, “we’ve found in people who suffered brain damage, memories surface which don’t belong to them but are echoes of things they have seen or read about. Michelle may be someone from your past.”

  Alice appreciated Kelly’s kindness, but she’d got it wrong.

  “Michelle’s my daughter. Why isn’t she here in my dream?”

  “Do you believe you are dreaming?” Kelly seemed surprised.

  “Yes, no, I don’t know,” Alice said. “I believe I’ve had a stroke or ameerism…that thing Dr Grossmith said I had and I’m in a coma, in St Mary’s and I’m dreaming. Or I’m asleep in my chair and dreaming there.”

  Kelly couldn’t even begin to imagine how perplexing it must be for her patient and she had nothing to offer that might help. She lifted the covers from Alice’s bed.

  “Things will become clearer, I promise. Now, I want to prepare your limbs for your first steps on your own. You’ve been out of the land of the living far too long.”

  Kelly moved Alice’s body with skill and patience and in such a way, Alice felt the life flooding back to her limbs. Kelly explained all the instruments and lights as she touched the various parts of Alice’s body needed for this exercise. Alice understood none of the explanations but loved feeling so invigorated. Was this how a hot stone massage feels? If so, Alice liked it!

  “Why didn’t we do this before, Kelly? It’s wonderful!” Alice rewarded Kelly with the brightest smile her out-of-practise face could muster.

  “We did, many, many times, you’ve just forgotten,” Kelly laughed as she worked. “Dr Grossmith and your other Kelly’s have been doing this for years. If we hadn’t, your muscles would have wasted, and your nerves rendered unresponsive. That would have been a sad state of affairs and one we worked hard to avoid, but that you feel wonderful is a good sign.” Kelly gave Alice a hug before settling her back on the pillow. But Alice’s joy dissipated quickly into the familiar confusion. Doing it for years? Why didn’t she remember any of it?

  Chapter Four

  As always, Alice had no idea of how long she had slept but this time, when she opened her eyes, a tall, stern man bent over her, peering into her face. Without a word or any form of greeting, he passed a small box across her body and every so often, held it up to view, then returned to his examination. Dr Grossmith and Kelly were there, observing. Alice didn’t know who this elegant man with a moustache might be, taller than Dr Grossmith and dressed similarly, he had neither friendly face nor manner. Alice decided he bore a remarkable resemblance to a prune.

  “Are you breathless?” the man made no attempt at introduction before placing a white pencil-shaped object over her chest. He must be a doctor, Alice thought. A very senior doctor.

  She shook her head.

  “Any discomfort?”

  “No, doctor,” she mumbled, it would be impolite not to answer, years of indoctrination still rear their head in dreams, it would seem. “I’m alright, a bit stiff, I have a touch of arthritis.”

  The tall man raised an eyebrow and said “Ah-ha,” like old Mr Sykes who lived down near the railway, one eyebrow always down and the other hidden under a cap pulled over his brow and who only spoke a couple of words like “ah-ha,” and “one-one,” and “hello.” He always said “hello” to Alice, but she never replied because she was frightened of him.

  “Well,” the tall man said, at last, straightening and turning to Dr Grossmith, his eyebrow remaining raised. “At least her language is standard English-based.”

  Alice was too afraid to comment. This doctor looked grand and important. More grand and important even than Dr Grossmith, but why the remark about her speaking English? She couldn’t speak any other language.

  “I’m Dr Clere,” the tall man turned back to Alice, placing his hand on his chest by way of introduction. “I have been overseeing your recovery, at least regarding your heart, kidneys and liver. You’ll be pleased to know they are in perfect working order.” Dr Clere’s speech was clipped and lacking in any warmth or kindness.

  Alice felt it essential she must be polite and answer. If he was a doctor leaking into her dream from the hospital, he may think her rude.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of me, doctor. Dr Grossmith told me I’m cured.”

  “My colleague refers to the tumours. I refer to the heart and kidneys and that part of the liver which required regrowth. These organs are mature and functioning and subject to the usual rules of maintaining one’s health.”

  Dr Grossmith raised his hands to stop his colleague continuing.

  “Our patient has suffered some confusion of thought, Dr Clere. I have not yet informed her of this part of her treatment.”

  “Oh?” Dr Clere was most put out at not having either this information or his significant role con
veyed to the patient, but pleased to explain to Alice his contribution, so he launched into a self-congratulatory speech on the wonders of his treatment.

  His explanation got lost in the fog of her uneducated brain. She had never heard words and phrases such as cell engineering, cell coaxing, organoids, support scaffolds, in situ and the biological complexity of reprogramming and regrowing cells given her physical condition and how he prevailed against considerable odds. It was all foreign to Alice, but she did marvel he could say all that without scarcely pausing for breath.

  Disregarding her expression of undisguised bewilderment, Dr Clere assumed his account was reaching the mark, so he continued, full of self-importance and pride in his own abilities, pausing only once for effect. Dr Grossmith took that moment to point out that although Alice was listening, she understood not a single word.

  Dr Clere conceded grudgingly with a slight bow that perhaps he had been a little enthusiastic in expounding the appeal of cytotechnology.

  “Well, Dr Langley, you and your fellow researchers were foremost in the study of cytology in your time, indeed, portions of your research are still relevant today. You have received a new heart, new kidneys and a small section of the liver. We placed neurological stents…,” Dr Grossmith laid a hand on Dr Clere’s arm lest he continued to confound the patient. Dr Clere turned to him, then to Alice, who was busy trying to find this Dr Langley, even though she could see no-one else in the room.

  “I apologise. I realise this must be a little overwhelming and of course, the details can wait. It is enough you are recovering.”

  “I have a new heart, new kidneys and a piece of my liver?” she asked.

  “That is correct, Dr Langley,” Dr Clere acknowledged, “and I also understand you are asking questions about your surroundings. That’s good. We also have many questions but—,” he glanced at Dr Grossmith, “those questions can wait. For now, I’m content you have made such remarkable strides in your recovery. We can learn much from you.”

  “I still don’t know where I am,” Alice whispered.

  There were four important people in this room, Dr Grossmith, Dr Clere, Kelly and another doctor, Dr Langley, who Alice couldn’t see. Alice felt overwhelmed and shrank down into her bed, plucking at her blanket. Kelly moved to stand beside her, creating a silent barrier between Alice and Dr Clere. Her patient needed compassion and understanding and Dr Clere was a supercilious oaf with a habit of being overbearing. He chose not to address Alice’s entreaty, just offered a declaration of his own.

  “You’ve been asleep for a long time, Dr Langley, but now, you are awake. Properly awake.”

  Alice did not believe herself to be awake. If this was as awake as she would ever be, she didn’t want it. She wanted her old life, not locked in her body with only dream people around. She wanted her grandchildren, and Michelle and Steven.

  Dr Clere scrutinised her for a moment longer before deciding he had no further reason to be here or take part in this conversation and with one small, unsmiling bow that took in Alice, Kelly, Dr Grossmith and the unseen Dr Langley, he collected his equipment and vanished through the wall. Dr Grossmith raised his eyebrows and grinned at Kelly in the shared understanding of Dr Clere’s poorly cultivated bedside manner. A disappearance through the wall was now accepted by Alice as a natural element of her dream, even though Dr Clere said she was “properly” awake.

  “How did they know I had this anee—anjee—thing you said,” she asked Dr Grossmith as he sat beside her, performing tasks with instruments she didn’t understand but trusted him with.

  “An aneurysm.”

  “Yes, I don’t even know what an anjerism is. Did Michelle and Eliza find me? They were taking me to the day spa. It’s my birthday on Saturday, I’ll be 65.”

  Dr Grossmith stopped what he was doing. He was unprepared for this. Even after having devoted almost his whole career to this extraordinary woman, he assumed, dreamed even, that if she ever awoke, she would be the person she’d been before. Her identity was well-established and though he anticipated a degree of disorientation and therefore, could accept her somewhat rambling questions, her references to Michelle and Eliza puzzled him. There must be reasons for her behaving this way. Her previous KELA carers told him that once or twice, during many of their movement and stimulation sessions, she had rambled about a Michelle and a new baby that was coming.

  Dr Grossmith had a custom of contorting his face and rubbing his hands together when pressed; he was doing it now under Alice’s not-so-patient gaze. He realised he was taking too long to reply, but these responses required careful thought, his answers needed to be measured so he decided to play along to some extent without blundering in with replies that might confound. It was essential to speak in a manner not meant to patronise, but as if talking to a child or, as he believed, a patient suffering from amnesia. He did his best but the explanation, when it came, still proved too technical and terrifying for Alice and he had no more luck in helping her understand than Clere had, even in using what he considered the simplest language.

  “The aneurysm had a role in a much wider problem. You had a tumour in your brain, here,” he showed her on his own head the general area. “The tumour spread into your spine and from my understanding, at the time of your preservation, it would have been inoperable.

  “We know at one time, tumours were also present in the liver, kidneys and lungs, but some unknown factor, possibly the preservation fluid, reversed their growth. There are no signs of any active cancerous lesions anywhere in your body now. Our doctors here repaired the aneurysm.”

  “I have cancer?” Alice understood that at least, but she hadn’t known—she had been so well. To find out now she was so desperately ill made little sense.

  “You had cancer,” Dr Grossmith emphasised. “You don’t now. Nor an aneurysm. Apart from needing therapy to help you walk, you are, at least physically, in excellent health.”

  Dr Grossmith must be wrong.

  “I have never been sick in my life, doctor,” she said, thinking about how she felt as she sat in her old chair. “I didn’t know cancer could be sudden. I was going out for my birthday and I felt fine. I must have collapsed, and Michelle and Eliza found me when they came to collect me.”

  Dr Grossmith shook his head. “The Chinese military found you. In a cavern at the base of a mountain, placed there by your uncle to protect the sarcophagus.”

  This was extraordinary! Steven went on a school trip to China years ago. That must be creeping into the dream. She knew the cancer word though, and dreaming or not, it scared her. People died from cancer and now she was being told she’d had it all over her body and that was why she’d been so sick. And all without her knowledge. How could that be?

  Alice took a deep breath and offered what she thought explained her presence in this place. Why she would ever dream about cancer was beyond her comprehension.

  “I’m in hospital and in a coma,” Alice said, “like my husband Ted before he died, and I can hear what the doctors are saying but my brain is mixing it all together.”

  Dr Grossmith listened to her explanation. He would give her as much time as she needed, he’d already devoted 40 years of his life to her, he could afford to be patient.

  “This isn’t a dream but these times awake do tire you I know; do you wish to sleep?”

  “Only because I might wake up properly next time, doctor,” she lifted her hand and gestured feebly around the room, “and not in this strange dream with words and—” she pointed to the wall where people disappeared, “amazing things, but I’m not tired, it seems as soon as anyone mentions sleep, I do it anyway.”

  “That, my dear Alexis,” Dr Grossmith said as he stood, “is because your body knows best.”

  As the familiar coolness swept over her, Alice thought she saw concern mixed with the kindness in Dr Grossmith’s face and how curious? He called her Alexis.

  But the next time she opened her eyes, she was fully awake, moving well, her breathing easie
r and her sense of touch returning to such a degree she could appreciate the softness of the blanket draped across her. Such a lovely fabric, so light and perfect for a blanket for Michelle’s new baby. Alice made a mental note to pop down to the fabric shop and get some as soon as she got home from hospital.

  And her vision was so clear! She always hated wearing glasses so maybe strokes, anjerisms, whatever, had an upside.

  “Nurse?”

  As always, Kelly was at her side almost as soon as she spoke.

  “Call me Kelly, or even Ann, that’s my name.”

  “My mother taught me to respect nurses and doctors and give them their proper titles.”

  Kelly laughed. “Well, your mother was right to teach you respect, we value it in our society, but Kelly is my title.”

  “I have never heard of a Kelly, is it something to do with caring? Ted only died seven years ago, and you were still all called nurses then.”

  Kelly hesitated.

  “I can answer the first part of that question. In a manner of speaking, you are correct, a Kelly is something to do with caring. It’s an acronym; Kelly’s receive cells from their patient’s brain stem, those cells are programmed to respond to the patient’s requirements. The implants attune me to your needs.”

  “Isn’t that what happened to me, an acronym?”

  Kelly giggled a little, “No, you had an aneurysm. An acronym is...,” Kelly saw that Alice had already assumed a blank expression. “Never mind. KELA means Keller Engineering Life Aide. Keller Engineering pioneered the procedure. We were called KELAs for years, but we ended up known affectionately as Kelly’s. We work for up to a year with our patient after implantation and at the end of that time, any stem cells are removed, and we resume our normal lives until reassignment. It only happens three times over a six-year period.”

  There was no way of Alice knowing about such a procedure in her waking life, but then neither would she have considered such a thing as the materialisation of Dr Clere and Dr Grossmith through the wall at that moment. It was all imagination and Alice left it at that, preferring to believe her mind was performing oddly and filtering real events into a dream state and then changing them to the fantastic. Alice wondered if her life had become so ordinary her mind was taking a bit of leeway to sharpen things up, but she suspected she would never be the same once she was back home. She might even watch science fiction on the TV but for now, she would reassure herself that she was being cared for, that Michelle had discovered Sammy’s new diet and she and Eliza were visiting regularly. Steven might have visited too and knowing him, brought grapes because it wouldn’t occur to him she couldn’t eat yet.