The Lobotomist's Wife(18)
“Well, there will surely only be one method adopted.” Ruth had a hard time discerning Dr. Moniz’s response through his heavy accent, but she had no problem hearing his sharp and cutting tone. How rude. They were colleagues. All research would lead to progress—wasn’t that the point of sharing in a forum such as this?
“Ah, Dr. Moniz, I am sure you are right, but I would love to show you my technique, just to see what you think.” Robert smiled, whistling as he pulled papers and images from his valise. Ruth was proud of Robert for maintaining a friendly demeanor toward this nasty man. As she watched him show some of his photographs to Dr. Moniz, who began to nod more encouragingly, Ruth was impressed, yet again, by her husband’s seemingly limitless confidence.
The four-day congress sped by in a blur. By the time they reached their suite at the Metropole on the final evening, Ruth’s body felt like it was moving through the ocean in an opposing current. It took every bit of energy to amble over to the settee and move aside the pile of the papers she collected during the presentations; once there, she flopped down like a rag doll. Robert, on the other hand, was more energized than ever. He paced the room excitedly, talking without pause.
“I think it is quite clear that the epilepsies are not one single disease but a collection of diseases within the brain.”
“I agree.” Ruth tried to engage in conversation in spite of her deep fatigue. “And I thought it was a fascinating and clever use of electroencephalography to better understand the epileptic seizures. We need to do more of that cross-purposing of equipment at the hospital. It would help justify the expense of some of these machines.”
“Good thinking, I will keep that in mind if I bring you any requisition proposals.” He nodded encouragingly as he filled a glass with water and continued to talk through the highlights of the days. “What about that paper by Otto Sitting? Proposing that Hughlings Jackson’s view of the unconscious anticipated that of Freud’s? Ha!”
“I thought you might have enjoyed that.” She smiled, knowing that Robert reviled the popularity of Freud’s analytic approaches to disorders Robert thought were neurological, and welcomed any research that discredited the originality of the renowned psychologist’s ideas. “And what did you think of the doctors from Yale?”
“Fantastic! You were right to make note of Dr. Fulton when we were on the ship. He and Dr. Jacobsen are doing some terrific work in his primate research lab. Their presentation was the jewel of the congress!”
“I thought so too. In fact, I was considering inviting them down for a guest lecture when we return to the States. What do you think?”
“Excellent idea. I’m sure we could arrange for it. And I’d love to have some more time with them. I think their research on the frontal lobe is potentially groundbreaking. I am quite sure that there is something there that will help treat lunacy. I still haven’t pulled it all together in my head, but I cannot wait to begin to pursue this avenue of thinking.”
As she and Robert continued discussing the many presentations, Ruth was surprised that he made no mention of his own exhibition—his work on cerebral imaging. To Ruth, it seemed clear by the close of the congress that Egas Moniz’s cerebral angiography would likely eclipse Robert’s method for photographing the brain. Moniz had, after all, been given his own slot to present his work, unlike Robert, who was relegated to the general exhibition hall. Ruth thought the promotion of Robert’s idea had been the impetus for their trip; yet, Robert seemed on top of the world.
Never one to be delicate, Ruth asked directly, “Robert, what did you think about Dr. Moniz’s presentation? You know I initially found the man to be quite pompous and rude, but hearing him speak, I realized that he has a very impressive mind.”
“I told you as much. I was quite inspired by him at the first congress.”
“What did you make of his cerebral angiography this time?”
“Oh, that?” Robert shrugged her question off with a dismissive turn of his head, and she was suddenly worried she had wounded him. “Dr. Moniz has clearly figured this out already. His method will win the favor of the medical community. There are simply fewer risks. And I am not one to fight for an inferior idea if a better one has been found.”
“You are remarkable, Robert.” Ruth grabbed his hand tenderly as he paced past her. “A lesser man would be threatened.”
“On the contrary, I am invigorated by the work of the Portuguese doctor. And I consider it my great fortune to have had this time to get to know him better. I am actually hoping that I will be able to correspond with him now that we have spent several days together. Did you notice that Dr. Moniz was feverishly taking notes during Fulton and Jacobsen’s presentation? I wonder what he is contemplating.”
“What do you suspect?”
“Well, you remember what Fulton and Jacobsen did, right?” Robert paused before taking on a professorial tone, deliberate in his movements and language as if to ensure that she understood what he was saying. If Ruth weren’t so enamored with her new husband, she might have found the affect off-putting. Of course she remembered what they did. They had just been discussing it. Still, she was entranced by Robert’s enthusiasm. “They removed some of the chimp’s white brain matter, the attachments in the prefrontal lobe. Becky and Lucy, our primate cruising companions”—he winked—“who had been prone to violent outbursts before surgery, lost all their aggressive tendencies. Even after making the same mistakes that had sent them into a rage before. Essentially the same triggers no longer elicited the same violent response.”