TWO

THE FOUNTAIN

 

 

At 70 years old, Jacques was proud of himself for the level of health he had maintained.  No major surgeries, no chronic conditions, no daily aches and pains many of his friends had complained about.  He attributed it to his lifestyle.  He did not smoke or drink, he never did drugs, he ate healthy foods, and he regarded the quest for happiness as his top priority.  It was a simple life, happy and uncomplicated.  He was married to Julia, the only person he met who truly understood him and loved him for all of his imperfections, just as he loved hers.  In 45 years of marriage, they had witnessed the beauty of births of their children and grandchildren, the tragedy of the deaths of their parents and other family, and they were witnesses to all the splendor of planet Earth.  They accepted the good and bad and held family tightly as if any day could be the last.  In this simple life was happiness.  Nevertheless, if you achieve simplicity in your life, you create a path of least resistance for complications to snake their way in.

Everything changed one day, shortly after his 71st birthday.  Pain in his abdomen, fatigue and nausea made him think he had a virus or maybe some food made him ill.  He treated it as such, with rest, plenty of water, vitamins, but after a week, his discomfort had intensified, so he called his doctor.  A standard array of blood tests was ordered, and within a week, Jacques had gone from a proudly healthy man to stunned cancer patient.  3D scanning revealed that his liver, stomach and lungs were surrounded by tumors.  By the time he had developed any symptoms, he was stage four, terminal.  His doctor, who was also his childhood friend, calmly and sympathetically told Jacques he was ordering an immediate referral to an oncologist so he could begin treatment right away.  He wanted Jacques to understand that this would take some time to process in his mind, but it was imperative that he see the specialist as soon as possible.  Jacques walked numbly to the oncologist’s office, which was in the same building as his doctor’s office.  By the end of the day, his life was on a timer.  It’s easy to tell the difference between a doctor who is hopeful for a cure, and one who is resigned to offering comfort in your last days.  There was no hope in the oncologist’s voice.  Aggressive treatment and pain management may extend his time a bit.  How long?  This is everyone’s first question.  “Two months,” came from the doctor’s mouth, with the impact of a slap.  The doctor said a few more words Jacques didn’t hear and then gave him some time alone to absorb them.  What will I tell my family?  They don’t deserve this. Jacques couldn’t go home just yet.  He left his car and walked home instead, using the two hours of time to try to come up with some words for Julia.  Never before had he ever been unable to figure out what to say to her, and now he was dumbfounded.

Of all his memories, this was the worst.  He leaned back and closed his eyes.  He could easily detach the pain from the memory and never feel it again if he wanted.  But he chose not to.  It was the pain that reminded him he was human.  It was so easy to forget that now, as he was the only one of his kind.  Without his love for his family, there wouldn’t be the pain of his human life.  And if he took away the pain, he feared he would forget about love.  There was so little humanity left in him now; he had to hold on to this, the worst of his memories, to avoid losing Julia forever.

That pain, the worst pain Jacques had ever felt in his life, was when he watched his wife’s eyes well with tears as he broke the news.  Julia had beautiful brown cheerful eyes.  Even without a smile, they always had an expression of happiness. And even as she aged, he still found himself gazing into her eyes, spellbound.  The first time he saw her face, he found himself locked on to those ethereal apertures, and he felt he had known her in countless other lives, and now he had found her again.  Her eyes said, “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting so long.” Today, however, their expression was different.  He saw grief.  He was afraid her face would permanently change; that her glow of happiness may never come back.  Indeed, the brightness dimmed slightly for a moment.  A crease formed in her forehead and her eyebrows raised, and she appeared to be concentrating to keep her heart beating.  He only ever wanted to make her happy, and now he was explaining to her that she would soon be alone.  He hated himself for letting her down.  At this point in his life, he knew obviously that they would not be here together forever, but still, nothing prepares you for the moment when the decision is made for you.  He asked for her forgiveness for this, the most cruel thing he had ever done to her.  She forgave him, but he never forgave himself.

For the first time ever, he took two sleep aid pills, laid down in bed, his wife in his arms, and slept to escape.  He waited two days before calling his son and daughter.  The pain was too great. His children did not take the news well, as expected.  They lived in different cities, and they both booked flights for the next day.  The four of them spent a weekend sitting on the back patio talking, hugging, crying.  Jacques could not stop apologizing.  He wanted more time; he wasn’t ready to go. But they came to terms with the new situation and promised, each one to each other, that nothing would break their bonds; they would always take care of each other.  Two days later, his children’s spouses came with their children, two each.  The family ate, listened to music and reminisced.  Jacques’ advice to everyone after that was to laugh and love with your family and friends now.  Do not wait until you are terminally ill.  Every day is an opportunity to spread love, share wisdom and celebrate the beauty in your lives.  What if you were not here tomorrow? He would ask this of everyone.  Will your family know how much you love them?  Apologize for the stupid arguments in the past.  Forgive those who have hurt you.  Live like you will be gone tomorrow, because you might be.

Or you might not.

As it turned out, this beautiful reunion with his family was only a dress rehearsal.  Two weeks after he was diagnosed, Jacques got an early morning call from Michael, his doctor and friend.  He had enrolled Jacques in a clinical trial for a new type of immune therapy that he felt proved hopeful.  Again, Jacques was shocked.  After coming to terms with his own death, he was now being told it might not happen.  What the hell, he thought.  Nothing to lose.  Immune therapy was making great strides at that time.  Some types of blindness had been cured, which Jacques thought was miraculous.  Many types of autoimmune diseases were now easily reversed.  It seemed that every day new cures were being revealed.  The clinical trial was a treatment previously used only on lab animals with remarkable results.  Rats with stage four cancer were cured completely.  The results were the same with monkeys.  This human trial, the first of its kind, would be the greatest step forward in targeted immune therapy.  Jacques joined a group of 39 other stage four cancer patients.  They all had conditions similar to his, tumors attached to internal organs.  The treatments were four times a week for four weeks.  His blood was drawn and taken to a lab on site.  Two hours later, the blood was injected back into his body.  He never saw exactly what was being done to the blood, but as he understood it, his immune system was being reprogrammed to target and attack only malignant tumor cells.  His treatment sessions were private, and he never had contact with the other test subjects.  All he knew was at the end of four weeks, he felt exceptionally healthy.  Another visit to the oncologist and another scan of his organs would reveal the results.  Jacques was waiting in an exam room on a cold chair when the oncologist came in, accompanied by Michael.  Jacques burst into tears when they happily told him there was no trace of cancer.  The trial had worked better than they had thought, they told him.  Jacques would be able to read the published results of the study soon.  In the meantime, they said, enjoy your second chance; most people don’t get one.

And Jacques did.  He got his family together again to celebrate.  They ate, listened to music and reminisced again, but with tears of joy this time.  Jacques promised himself he would not waste this gift of time.  He would spend the remaining days of his life appreciating them.  He would help others, create smiles and volunteer time. He vowed not to waste a moment on negativity.  In his remaining time, he would strive to make his corner of the world better.

The details of the study were published, and it so happened that his reaction to the therapy was unique.  Not one of the other participants showed any improvement.  Some had died during the trial.  They were all terminally ill, so it was expected that some might not make it through the four weeks.  But Jacques was alone in that he was cured while everyone else was either the same or worse.  He didn’t know what this meant.  He felt happiness for himself, but sorrow at the same time for the families of the other people.  Many nights he laid awake wondering what made him so special.  He spoke with his wife many times about it, and she suggested maybe God had another purpose for him and it was not time for him to go yet.  Perhaps.  Doctors from around the world had heard the news and many tried to contact Jacques.  They would like to interview him, examine his blood and perform test to study his overall physiology.  They also wanted to know what made him special.  Michael agreed to field the calls and explain the details to the other doctors so Jacques could have some peace.  This was a breakthrough in the medical world, even if only one patient saw positive results.  They enthusiastically repeated the study in universities and institutes around the world in the hope of another success.  But Jacques was the only one.  More and more, he was contacted for his participation in further studies.  He helped when he could, providing fluid samples and answering questions because he was also curious why he was the anomaly.  This went on for several years with no answers.  There were no noticeable differences between his physiology and any other man’s.  Jacques felt like a young man again, full of energy and living happily, experiencing no decline as he aged.  As he approached 80 years old, doctors and scientists began to ask if he would consider donating his body when he died, so more study could be performed.  Autopsy is what they meant.  Jacques was horrified at first.  He felt great.  The reapers needed to bother someone else because he felt like he had many more years before he died.  He did not know at the time that he was right.  He aged in numbers only; his physical form remained unchanged.  Julia died at 86, when Jacques was 85.  He knew the day would come when he would have to say goodbye, but instead of healing over time, the pain he felt increased over the years, as he realized he would have to wait a long time to join her. His children…

He drew a long breath and exhaled slowly. “Joy, you wanna meet me in the bar? I need a drink.”

“Absolutely.  See you in a minute,” came her cheery voice over an overhead speaker.  Jacques left the room and started walking as the memory continued.

He saw 90, 100, 110.  At 118, he held the record for oldest human on earth.  At 125, he looked no older than 80.  He maintained his 80 year old facial lines and body shape, but his skin was elastic and smooth.  As time went on, he noticed that he never got ill, not even a minor cold.  Cuts healed within a day.  He never needed his reading glasses.  He was a young man in an old body, and he wondered if he would ever die.  Of course this got the attention of the world.  Everyone wants to stay young and they saw Jacques as the fountain of youth.  People were relentless in their attempts to find out his secret.  Strangers asked him for his blood and urine, thinking they could infuse his life force into their own bodies.  He could no longer go out in public.  If he was recognized, he would be physically attacked.  People used knives and scissors to cut his hair, gouge his skin; once two men held him down while a woman cut his fingernails and swallowed the clippings.  He was even kidnapped and held prisoner for two days by a family who attempted to drain him of his blood.  There was a standoff with police, and unfortunately it didn’t end well for his captors, but Jacques survived intact physically, but with further emotional damage.  Why did the world turn on me?  He could now only step outside with a team of bodyguards.  The community he loved now saw him as a thing, a science experiment turned celebrity, and they all wanted to taste immortality with a drop of the vampire’s blood.  He lost friends and even family to the lure of the Emerald Tablet, the fictional recipe of life they were convinced Jacques had found.  Irony was his best friend, it seemed.  In his 80’s, with his promise to make a positive impact on others, he began speaking to youth groups, giving motivational speeches about living life to the fullest and never wasting a moment.  He always got a laugh from teenagers when he said, “Carpe the shit out of this Deum.”  Then he found out his life was far from over. Who would listen to him now?  The man who will live forever telling them that life is short?  Nobody cared about his words anymore.  The wonder of the thing that stood before them was too much of a distraction.  When he spoke, he swore they only listened in the hopes of hearing the blood pumping through his veins.

He came to the bar and the door slid open with a sigh.  He designed the door that way, in tribute to his favorite author, Douglas Adams.  He stepped inside and saw Joy behind the bar and a gin and tonic at his usual barstool.

“Thinking too much again?” Joy asked.

“Yeah, I just need a break from my thoughts.”

He stirred the gin, which he made himself from the botanicals onboard AD INFINITUM, dunking the lime wedge to the bottom of the glass.  He swiveled on his stool to face the windows and the blackness of space beyond.

“Let me know when we’re approaching Saturn.  It will be about 3 weeks, right?  I always wanted to see Earth through the rings of Saturn.  Do you think I’ll start melting?”

“You know I’m the only one on board who understands your references to 1970’s horror films, right?” asked Joy.  “Honestly, you’ve worn out that joke.”

“Yes, but it’s still funny.”

“Only to you, old man,” said Joy.

He lifted his glass to the window and made a silent toast to the universe, the only thing more misunderstood than him.