The Lobotomist's Wife(24)
“I see. Wonderful. What type of progress do you mean?” Charles nodded encouragingly.
Ruth smiled to herself. She appreciated that Dr. Wilkinson spoke as if performing brain surgery was no more remarkable than delivering milk in the morning, and she knew this would appeal to Charles as well.
“Dr. Apter’s research, the studies you are making possible, sir, essentially surgically rewiring the brain for better health, well, it just seems like the greatest use imaginable of any neurosurgeon’s training and skill. Dr. Apter has incredible ideas and . . . with his ability to take what he knows from neurology and psychology and marry it with my surgical expertise, why, I believe we might really find new ways to help people. And that is the most I could ever hope for in a career.”
“In that case, we would love to have you, Dr. Wilkinson.” Charles stood up and walked toward the young man with his hand outstretched. “When can you begin?”
Chapter Eleven
Edward had not been born into a world of privilege. He grew up in the cornfields in Iowa, the third son in a farm family of seven children. From a young age, Edward was interested in the way things worked. He became the farm’s go-to mechanic when equipment broke, as he had the patience and meticulousness to carefully take it apart and put it back together again. As he got older, this interest transferred into the field of medicine. It was a great sacrifice for his family to send him to college, let alone medical school, but it was Edward’s calling. He worked tirelessly to secure his place at Yale—as well as the scholarship funds to ensure he could assume it—and while his family could offer little in the way of financial support, their pride in his accomplishment was limitless.
Ruth had never met another doctor as indefatigable as Robert—until Edward. The two men immediately fell into a tireless work routine, often remaining at the hospital late into the evening, lost in refining their leucotomy technique.
Edward was shy, but he quickly grew comfortable around Ruth. In spite of the chasm between their backgrounds, they had similar values—helping others was their number one priority—and within a few months, they had developed an easy rapport. He listened to Ruth in a way that Robert sometimes didn’t, and he soon became a valued colleague and friend.
Ruth always remained at the hospital until Robert was ready to go home, and with Robert and Edward working so closely, this meant that the three of them usually departed together.
“Robert tells me your surgical technique is unlike anything he’s ever seen,” Ruth said to Edward one evening as they waited in her office for Robert. “I imagine you have already learned that he does not give a compliment lightly, and he is emphatic that your knowledge of not just the location but the function of every fold and crevice of the brain is moving your research forward at an unexpectedly rapid pace.”
Edward blushed. “I think the credit for our progress should really go to your husband.”
“Well, it is clear to me that he couldn’t do what he is doing without your skill. I do worry, though . . . It is one thing for Robert and me to spend all our time at the hospital, but you.” She paused and smiled at him. “You know it is all right for you to have a personal life too?” Ruth couldn’t believe she was suggesting this. She sounded like an old-fashioned aunt.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve never been one for much socializing. And our research is moving so quickly, it’s exhilarating. It feels like every day brings us nearer to offering the treatment in the hospital. It would be so incredible to change lives this way, to use a surgery to heal an illness that’s physiologically imperceptible, but psychologically so apparent. Some days in the lab with your husband, I feel like I’m on the frigid waters of the Antarctic with Roald Amundsen, about to find the South Pole for the first time.”
Ruth looked at Edward and knew she’d found a kindred spirit. Pushing him to date would be useless because no woman could rival the allure of their cause. Still, she wanted Edward to have someone of his own. She was about to say as much when Robert came bursting in the door excitedly.
“Eddie, I’ve received another letter from Moniz. What a generous man he is!”
“Generous?” Ruth laughed. “He might be many things, but Dr. Moniz never seemed the slightest bit generous to me.”
“I have to give this one to your husband, Ruth. I’d heard many unpleasant things about Dr. Moniz before Robert started to correspond with him, but he has been incredibly forthcoming with his research.”
“Indeed. And this is the best letter yet! Look here—” Robert thrust the paper in Edward’s face. “He hasn’t only given us the precise details of his surgery; he is supplying us with an introduction to the French manufacturer of his leucotome!”
“That’s terrific! I have been struggling to get a proper cut in the lobe with the instruments we have at hand.” Edward looked at Ruth to explain. “It’s hard to keep the insertion as small as we’d like and still be able to maneuver the instrument the way we need to inside the brain.”
“Exactly! Have a look at this.” Robert unrolled the diagram. “Moniz is quite clever. The wand has a retractable loop at the tip so, it seems, you can insert it, open and then close the loop, and remove it from the cranium.”
Ruth moved to look over Robert’s shoulder as he and Edward studied the pages excitedly. “You know, Robert, with all this information, we could start real experiments soon,” Edward said.