Chapter One
SESSION SEVENTEEN
I scheduled the first session (the seventeenth overall) with
prot for 3:00 P.M., Monday, August 21, remembering to
dim the lights for his sensitive eyes. Indeed, he removed
his dark glasses as soon as he was escorted into my examining
room by his old friend Roman Kowalski (Gunnar
Jensen had retired), and I was delighted to find that he
appeared to be fully recovered from five years of rigid immobility,
though technically it was Robert, not prot, who
had been catatonic throughout that period. He was, in fact,
much as I remembered him: smiling, energetic, alert. The
only notable changes were some weight loss and a hint of
premature graying at the temples—he was now thirty-eight
years old, though he claimed to be closer to four hundred.
Betty had reported that he was already able to eat soft,
easily digestible foods, so I had a few overripe bananas on
hand, which he dug into with his usual relish, skins and
all. "The riper the better," he reminded ...
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