A Temporary Fix

20251014

Written for Bradley Ramsey's "First Indulgence" event.

It all happened so fast. Getting the call from the boating club. Rushing to hospital. Being told that Callum had passed. And then, slim dangling hope - “There’s an experimental procedure…”
Callum’s body was frozen, keeping it in that vital fresh state while Debra scrabbled for funds. Insurance came through, as did a bank loan. The last stretch was covered by emptying their savings. Debra told herself it was fine, once Callum recovered they’d pay it off, going back to student lifestyle was better than letting her world be ripped away and upended.
Now she was alone, all alone, in a waiting room. Pacing until her feet throbbed, sitting flipping through the insipid magazines until her mind screamed, back to pacing again.
Until finally the door opened and a nurse ushered her through to where Callum lay in a hospital bed.
Pale. Hooked up to a dizzying number of tubes. But alive.
Debra wept with relief and gratitude and wonder. Barely taking in the doctor’s words about recovery time, and memory loss, and possibility of complications.
“Oh, so…” She absently mopped at her face with the tissue the nurse had kindly produced. “Like a stroke? My dad was like that, after his…”
“Very similar.” The doctor’s warm, calm tone and professional smile were deeply reassuring. “We’ll monitor closely and keep you updated. It’ll likely be a few weeks before he can go home.”
“That’s fine!” Debra assured him, and the rest of the hovering team. “A few weeks is nothing to pull off such a miracle.”
“A miracle of science, indeed.” The doctor flashed an approving grin. “Right now it looks like the only thing we can’t ‘cure’ is death of old age. The body always wears out.”
Debra smiled and nodded and was ushered to a taxi. Floating on a cloud of relief.
Everyone else was told Callum had a near-death experience. Which, Debra reasoned, was pretty much the truth. So he’d spent a little while dead - less than a minute from his body’s perspective. While miraculous it didn’t make him some frankensteins monster. “Experimental resuscitation technique” was easy for people to understand and not liable to freak out their more religious family members.
Support flowed in. The doctor’s updates were glowing. Debra dared to hope things would return to normal.
She’d read the provided leaflet. She was braced for memory lapse and needing to help Callum readjust. But the man waiting in the hospital lobby felt like a stranger.
It was Callum. His stay in hospital hadn’t changed his appearance much. He just…
A million tiny discrepancies, too small for her to tease out, pricked at her subconscious mind.
The way he sat. His resting expression. The stiltedness of their embrace. That tic he’d picked up of clicking his left thumb.
All to be expected, she told herself. He still wasn’t well. But he was stable, and with love and care and support he’d be back to his old self in no time.
Her unease was swept away by amazing news - a benefactor interested in the procedure had paid for everything! They were debt free!! How wonderful! Debra got permission to write a proper letter of thanks to be passed on.
Then she was helping Callum into a taxi, eager to get their lives back on track.
He was silent the whole ride. Well, of course. He must be exhausted still.
Once home he didn’t recognise anything. That’s fine, Debra had prepared to walk him through. She just… he kept looking so dissatisfied. Surely, even if he couldn’t remember their house, his taste in decorating wouldn’t have changed? Well, perhaps that sort of shift happened.
He was similarly displeased with the food they had. When she served his favourite instant pho, his go-to when he wasn’t feeling well, he struggled to get it down. Well, a fortnight on hospital food would throw anyone’s palate out of whack. But him asking for a roast beef dinner, after being a vegetarian the whole time she’d known him, left her flabbergasted.
Despite all the doctors’ assurances, she was increasingly worried something had gone wrong.
She wanted a checkup. A follow-up. Answers.
This time the nurse’s expression was neutral as she led them to the waiting room. Debra took a seat, squeezed Callum’s hand - and felt a sharp scratch on the side of her neck.
The room swam into darkness. The last thing she felt was Callum peeling her fingers off.
“-make things much simpler.” The doctor’s warm, calm voice guided Debra back to reality.
She was lying down. Must have passed out? How embarrassing.
When she tried to move, to sit up, to reassure people, she found her body unresponsive. She couldn’t even open her eyes.
“But look at her!” This voice sounded like an elderly woman. “Do you really want me to look like that??”
“It won’t be for long.”
Callum?
“Just until we’ve got the ‘inheritance’ sorted out. Nobody will be surprised at a woman responding to wealth by getting surgery to fix her looks.”
“Humph.” The elderly voice slowly paced around Debra, who desperately redoubled her efforts to open her eyes. Or at least scream. But it was like her body was behind a locked window. “You’re sure you can’t find me a better body?”
“We could, but there’d be legal hassle. Getting divorced and remarried. Besides, I doubt anyone else will be jumping to take her.”
Hearing Callum talk about her like that cut deeply and left Debra certain this wasn’t him.
They hadn’t brought him back. She’d been lied to. Who was this??
“Fine.” The old woman huffed. “Do the transfer, then. And tell the lawyers to hurry up.”
Transfer. Body. Inheritance.
Wait…
“They’re doing what they can. It would’ve been far easier if we could wait a few weeks, but… oh well.”
The surface Debra lay on jolted. She was being wheeled somewhere.
That casual, offhand comment from the doctor rang in her ears. “the only thing we can’t ‘cure’ is death of old age…”

Prompt was “A new technology allows people to be brought back from the dead, but it’s quite expensive. You are able to obtain the funds needed, but once they come home, something doesn’t seem right. They’re not the same…”