Are We There Yet?

After the 3rd volunteer also returned catatonic, we halted the program

"I just don't understand", said Dr. Tom Perdue, "everything went as planned.  There were no slip-ups".
"None", I replied, "that we know of".
So we went to work.  We dismantled the machine, examined every single fitting, every single part.  Every specification was looked into and triple checked.  Nothing.  The machine worked perfect in every way.  What with Congress breathing down our necks for results the temptation was to just announce success, and it was a success, just that our temponauts were returning in a vegetative state, with no organic reason we could find.  Again, we put through animals, starting with planaria and running the gamut of complexity up to chimpanzee.  However, the apes were somewhat sluggish and would not eat or do much but stare into space, but they were not completely wiped out as were our human subjects.  One night in a bar Dr. Perdue and I were dejectedly drinking ourselves into oblivion while our security forces stood by to carry us back to the compound.  Then I had an idea.
"I think we need to send the men further back".  Dr. Perdue looked up from his sixth orninth Manhattan, and asked me why.
"Why"?  he asked.  I explained.
"I think that the power used to send a subject back ten years or so has something to do with our results".  The doctor finished his drink and signaled the mechanical bartender for another.  "Do go on", he said.   "And don't make them so sweet this time".
I drained my glass as well.  "It occurs to me, that just as putting requires more skill and concentration than driving, so it may be that a longer distance into the past might be less traumatic than these short jumps, time-wise".  I knocked my glass over trying to get my cigarettes.  "The electro-bio-chemical shock of the massive surge required to bring the subject back against fresh time is obviously far more traumatic than the long, smooth return from, say, the Permian or what have you".  I tried to read the Budweiser clock but it wouldn't stay in focus.  "I volunteer for the next mission".  The bartender had a fresh drink in front of me by then.  I noticed that it kept my change.

A week later I was in the suit and stood in front of the machine, it's massive door open and the chamber within gleaming from a thousand lighted panels.  I settled into the chair and was strapped in while the technicians checked the machine and Dr. Perdue set the controls for -260 million years.  He had cut himself shaving and had toilet paper stuck to the heel of his shoe.  The hatch closed and I stared through the viewport.  Then I was slung back into time.
Nothing happened, or so I thought.  Then I saw myself getting out of the chamber as everyone repeated their actions of a few seconds ago, backwards.  I saw the doctor pull down his fly and spit aspirin into his hand, walking in reverse to the sink. And so it went.  I then realized our problem.  The trip took place in real time for the subject.  Our volunteers had just spent a decade going back, and a decade returning, completely conscious and with only the view through the port for diversion.  I could not feel my body but my mind saw every tedious event in that room of the past day.  It was boring beyond belief and that was just the first 12 hours.  Oh my dear sweet Jesus.

I am in for a very, very long trip.