Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

only lets the patient lead a fairly

normal life, travel and so forth, but also his blood is cleaned steadily as with a

normal kidney; he is no longer cumulatively poisoned by his own toxins between his

assigned days or nights ‘on the machine.’

“This is new. A few have already made the switch but all kidney victims can

expect it soon. The suicide rate has dropped markedly-life is again worth living;

hope has been restored.

“Computerized-A,cial Tomography, or CAT, or ‘brain scan’: They strap you to

a table, fasten your skull firmly, duck behind a barrier, and punch a button- then

an automatic x-ray machine takes endless pictures, a tiny slice at a time. A special

computer synthesizes each series of slices into a picture; a couple of dozen such

pictures show the brain in three-dimensional, fine detail, a layer at a time.

“Doppler Ultrasound Stethoscope: another microminiaturization spinoff. This

instrument is to an ordinary stethoscope as a Rolls Royce is to a Model-T Ford.”

Witness stands up, turns from side to side. “Look at me, please! I’ll never

be Mr. America; I’ll never take part in the Olympics. I’ve climbed my last mountain.

“But I’m here, I’m alive, I’m functioning.

“Fourteen months ago my brain was dull-normal and getting worse, slipping

toward ‘human vegetable.’ I slept 16 hours a day and wasn’t worth a hoot the other 8

hours.

“Were it not for the skill of Dr. Norman Chater, plus certain spinoffs from

the space program, today I would either be a human vegetable or, if lucky, dead of

cerebral stroke.

“My father was not lucky; from a similar disorder it took him years to

die-miserable years. He died before the operation that saved me had been invented,

long before there was medical spinoff from space technology.

“Am I elderly? I’m 72.1 suffered from a disorder typical of old age, almost

never found in the young.

“Am I handicapped? Yes, but my handicaps do not interfere with my work-or my

joy in life. Over forty years ago the Navy handed me a piece of paper that

pronounced me totally and permanently disabled. I never believed it. That piece of

paper wore out; I did not.

“Mrs. Heinlein and I spent 1976 and -77 on blood drives all over this

nation. We crisscrossed the country so many times we lost track. It was worthwhile;

we recruited several thousand new blood donors-but it was very strenuous. By the end

of ’77 we badly needed a rest, so we took a sea voyage. She and I were walking the

beach on Moorea, Tahiti, when I turned my head to look at a mountain peak-and

something happened.

“I balanced on my left leg and said, ‘Darling, I’m terribly sorry but I

think I’ve had a stroke. Something happened inside my head and now I’m seeing double

and my right side feels paralyzed.’

“Mrs. Heinlein half carried me, half dragged me, back to the landing-got me

back aboard.

“A shipmate friend, Dr. Armando Fortuna, diagnosed what had happened: a

transient ischemic attack, not a stroke. When we reached California, this was

confirmed by tests. However a TIA is frequently a prelude to a stroke.

“Remember that spinoff, computerized-axial tomography? That was done to me

to rule out brain tumor. No tumor. The neurologist my physician had called in

started me on medication to thin my blood as the clinical picture indicated

constriction in blood flow to my brain. This treatment was to continue for six

months.

But in only two months I was failing so rapidly that I was shipped to the

University of California Medical School at San Francisco for further diagnosis.

Remember the image enhancer and that dog at the University of Arizona? I said that

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dog was not hurt. They did it to me, with no anesthesia; it did not hurt.

“The catheter goes in down here”-witness points at his right groin-“and goes

all the way up and into the aortal arch above the heart. There three very large

arteries lead up toward the brain; the catheter was used to shoot x-ray-opaque dye

into each, in succession. The procedure took over two hours . . . but I was never