Mr. Wilson can hardly be unaware that once a writer chooses to youthen or resurrect a word, it lives again.
He nods, time traveling to a point when there were no central lines, no low blood counts, no immunosuppressive drugs. His face youthens momentarily as he bridges back to a point on a timeline that has none of this devastation on it.
... surged through my capacity bang. And then I heard a pop, pop, pop sound as I blew out ...
... OK, well, then we can ad lib it. ...