Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (epub e ink reader TXT) 📕

corkboard behind the bed filled with ‘get well’ greeting cards and stuffed animals sent by colleagues and students scattered around the room.

It had been two weeks since Jennifer’s treatment. After the surgery, she’d been put in a medically induced coma to give the treatment time to work on the brain without stress. Wavy lines on the EEG monitor next to the bed originated from the electrodes on her head. Twelve hours ago, they slowly reduced the flow of barbiturates, waking her up, and she’d regained full consciousness two hours ago.

“Dr. Elder,” Sylvia said.

Jennifer, still sleepy, cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Do you mind?” The doctor took a wooden spatula from his breast pocket and pointed it at Jennifer’s mouth. She opened her mouth, and holding her tongue down with the wooden stick, he looked deep into her throat.

“It’s a bit dry from the barbiturates,” he said, taking the spatula out. “Just drink a lot and eat soft foods like ice cream, and everything should be okay soon.”

Jennifer smiled as her mother gave her a glass of water.

The doctor replaced the spatula with a small flashlight. “If you please.” He shone the light a couple of times in both eyes. “Okay, looks great. Now keep your head still and follow my finger.” He moved his finger from left to right in front of her eyes. “Okay, thank you.”

“How am I doing, doctor?”

The doctor looked at the tablet and scrolled up and down. “Actually, from what I see and, on the screen here, you’re doing good, if not great. How are you feeling?”

“Except for the sore throat and a bit of drowsiness, I feel fine.”

“You two have been talking to each other a while now.” He looked from Jennifer to Sylvia. “No memory problems, confusion or anything like that?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Sylvia answered as Jennifer shook her head.

Dr. Elder opened an image of a brain scan on his tablet and stared at it for a long moment. “Hmm.”

“Hmm good, or hmm bad?” Jennifer inquired.

“Um, good,” the doctor answered quickly. “You remember, on the brain scan, the gaps we saw?”

Jennifer nodded.

“It looks like they are filling up again with new matter. Also, your EEG showed no abnormalities in the past five days or so. In the first days after your treatment, there was some, what you might call epileptic activity, but now....”

Sylvia took Jennifer’s hand, and while the two laughed, she squeezed it tight.

“Ouch,” Jennifer said, though she still smiled at Sylvia.

“Oh, sorry, honey,” Sylvia apologized.

Jennifer’s smile never left her face. “So, what now, doctor?”

“Now, we let nature run its course. I’m only an advisor in this, but what I see on this”—he looked at this tablet—“I think you might be ready to leave in a day or two.”

“That’s great,” Sylvia said. “I can take you with me, and you can stay at the house while regaining your strength.”

“That’s great, Mom, thanks.” Jennifer raised her head, smelling the air. “Something smells good.”

Both Sylvia and Dr. Elder sniffed the air.

“I don’t smell anything,” Sylvia replied.

“Nothing,” the doctor confirmed.

“Smells like soup—chicken soup.” Jennifer licked her lips.

The doctor looked at his watch. “Could be,” he corroborated. “The cafeteria is two floors down from here, and I presume they’re preparing the afternoon snack around this time.”

“Maybe the treatment also elevated your sense of smell,” Sylvia joked.

“Who knows?” Jennifer looked at the doctor, grinning.

“I don’t think so,” the doctor replied. “The sense of smell in the brain is located in the central, lower front of the brain. Here....” On his tablet, he pointed to a small lump at the front of the picture of Jennifer’s brain. “You see here, this tiny lump? That’s the olfactory lump. Together with the pyriform cortex”—he pointed a bit further into the brain—“it relates to the sensation of smell. Now, your therapy was aimed at the top of the frontal lobe, where motor control resides. But, who knows, maybe you’ll get a super smell in the process, and you can become some kind of superhero.”

They all laughed.

“But is there anything I need to take into consideration when I leave the hospital? Medication, perhaps?”

“Well, you’ve been lying in a hospital bed for almost a month now, so your body needs time to recuperate for a while. And there’s a diet I would like you to follow.”

“A diet for my brain?” Jennifer asked.

“I call it the Neurogenesis diet,” the doctor answered, grinning.

“Is that an actual medical thing, doctor?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m serious. You know the brain has the least regenerative properties in the adult human body. Up until a few years ago, we thought it didn’t have any regenerative properties at all. Now studies show that in adult humans, around seven hundred new neurons are generated from stem cells in the hippocampus every day. There’s also evidence that when adult humans receive certain cancer drugs, they can block the generation of new neurons, which links to memory formation and mood regulation. Subjects remember less and get more depressed.”

“And a diet helps?” Jennifer frowned.

“Yes. Not only a diet but also behavior can influence neurogenesis. Dr. Sandrine Thuret, who leads the Adult Neurogenesis & Mental Health Laboratory at King’s College in London found that things like stress and sleep deprivation can have a negative influence. On the other hand, learning and running have a positive influence. You should look her up on YouTube.”

“Later, at my place,” Sylvia joked. “But, you’ll go to bed early and get enough sleep first.”

“Sure, Ma.” Jennifer fanned her face. “And what about that diet?”

“Well, I’ll get it to you on paper before you leave, but foods with Omega 3 fatty acids, calorie restriction, flavonoids, which are present in dark chocolate and blueberries and folic acid have a positive influence. Certain vitamin deficiencies and alcohol will decrease the production of new nerve cells. On the other hand, resveratrol has a positive effect, so if you want to drink alcohol, you best drink red wine. That contains resveratrol, so I figure it’s kind of a neutral drink. I’ll send everything to your email address.”

“So, one or