Word: bourn
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...group of women sit quietly chatting, their heads bowed over needlepoint and knitting, in the gracious parlor at Bourn Hall. The mansion's carved stone mantelpieces, rich wood paneling and crystal chandeliers give it an air of grandeur, a reflection of the days when it was the seat of the Earl De La Warr. In the well-kept gardens behind the house, Indian women in brilliant saris float on the arms of their husbands. The verdant meadows of Cambridgeshire lie serenely in the distance. To the casual observer, this stately home could be an elegant British country hotel...
Each has come to the Bourn Hall clinic to make a final stand against a cruel and unyielding enemy: infertility. They have come from around the globe to be treated by the world-renowned team of Obstetrician Patrick Steptoe and Reproductive Physiologist Robert Edwards, the men responsible for the birth of the world's first test-tube baby, Louise Brown, in 1978. Many of the patients have spent more than a decade trying to conceive a child, undergoing tests and surgery and taking fertility drugs. Most have waited more than a year just to be admitted to the clinic. Some...
...years that have passed since the birth of Louise Brown, some 700 test-tube babies have been born as a result of the work done at Bourn Hall and the approximately 200 other IVF clinics that have sprung up around the world. By year's end there will be about 1,000 such infants. Among their number are 56 pairs of test-tube twins, eight sets of triplets and two sets of quads...
...resent the deception, however well meant. Her message is above all for those around the dying patient, and it is one so obvious that it has long been overlooked. The dying are living too, bitter at being prematurely consigned-by indifference, false cheerfulness and isolation-to the bourn of the dead. It is not death they fear, but dying, a process almost as painful to see as to endure, and one on which society-and even medicine-so readily turns its back...
...fashion, skirts are as high as an elephant's knee, cleavage has plunged so far down the middle that there is no place to go except around the side, cutouts appear in the darndest places, exposing undiscovered areas from whose bourn no traveling eye willingly returns. When the dress is not cut out, it is transparent. Slacks can and do go anywhere. Even men are abandoning their traditional drabness; tuxedo jackets now come in cerise, vests may be flowered. The New York Herald Tribune's Eugenia Sheppard points out that "vulgar" is no longer a nasty word...