The Lobotomist's Wife(35)

“Oh my. Do you know why? What went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong!” Robert snapped. “We performed the procedure as we always do. We had her awake, so we could be certain how deep to cut. She was speaking to us the whole time as per our usual protocol—reciting ‘God Bless America’ and counting backward—and we stopped our incision as soon as she started to become the slightest bit incoherent.”

“Yes, I am certain that we didn’t go too deep. I think she was just incurable.”

“Eddie keeps trying to make me feel better. And I know you are right, Ed. It is not as if this is our first disappointing outcome. But . . . if this one had been successful, it would have catapulted us into a new level of notoriety and influence.”

“Maybe, but that’s not why we are doing this. Mr. Kennedy wasn’t angry with the result. Very upset and disappointed, understandably, but he knew the risk.” Ruth had never heard Edward use such a short tone before.

“Robert, Edward, please! What, exactly, happened?”

“Rosemary Kennedy has not regained her mental capacity. At all. In fact, she is worse. We stayed for an extra week hoping that she was just slow to heal, but there was no change. Her intellect has diminished to that of a toddler. Needs constant care. Can hardly walk. Is incontinent. Joe insisted that we transfer her to an institution, so we moved her to Craig House before returning home. Really it is nothing so out of the ordinary. We’ve seen this before in the spectrum of our results. I just really didn’t want it to happen to her.” Robert hung his head.

“We don’t want it to happen to anyone,” Edward said pointedly. “But it was a particularly hard blow given who the family is.”

Ruth’s eyes welled with tears. Of course, lobotomy didn’t always work perfectly, but this seemed such a tragedy. For the family to go through all that just to have poor Rosemary end up in an institution, worse off than before. Still, this wasn’t a moment for her to feel downtrodden; she clearly needed to stay strong for Robert and Edward. They had tried their best. “Well, at least she will be well cared for. And she has her family to support her. That is more than so many patients have.”

“Yes. Well, her parents anyway. They are not telling the other children. And Joe made it very clear that we are never to speak of this.”

“Not telling them?”

“Ruth, this is not our affair. Joe wants to handle this his way. He knows what is best for his own family. Anyway, we will stay in touch with the family doctor, who will monitor her condition. Such a disappointment.”

“You two are the country’s greatest experts on this procedure. So, I am certain that if you weren’t able to produce a successful result, no one could have.” She stood, feeling shaky and a bit hollow from the false cheer she was putting on. Her confidence was rattled, but it wouldn’t do for these men to know that. “I know this was a blow, but it was only one bad result—after five years of so much success. We need to put this behind us and look forward to the bright future you two have enabled for so many. Liana has prepared a special meal, so come, let’s eat and drink and toast all the progress that we have made instead of wallowing in one of the rare bad outcomes.”

She started walking toward the dining room, looking behind her with an overly enthusiastic smile. “I have some good news, actually. I had a visit last week from Penelope Connor and her aunt. You wouldn’t believe how well she is. Full-figured and rosy cheeked. Not a scratch on her. She was so pleasant and calm and happy. Her aunt couldn’t thank us enough for giving her niece back her life. So, you see, you two really are working miracles.”

Ruth felt terrible for everyone. Robert, Edward, poor Rose and Joe Kennedy and, most of all, for Rosemary. But sadness had to be cast aside. Nothing in medicine was 100 percent successful and, overall, lobotomy was doing so much more good than harm. They were making progress, helping so many. That was what really mattered.





Chapter Sixteen


“I still can’t believe he is really gone.” Ruth dabbed her eyes with Robert’s handkerchief as they walked the few blocks home from her family’s Gramercy Park mansion.

“Your heart is too big, Ruth. I know he was your father, but even in death he managed to stick it to you.”

“That’s not true. He left us Magnolia Bluff!”

“Yes, but to appoint his board seat to your mother? It is unconscionable. What does she know about the hospital?”

“I suppose but—well, I couldn’t very well sit on the board as the assistant superintendent of the hospital.”

“Perhaps not, but I could.”

“Robert.” Ruth looked at him askance. She knew he was almost as eager for Bernard’s approval as she had been. It was hard for both of them that he had died without ever acknowledging the huge contribution lobotomy had made to the treatment of mental health; still, it was entirely inappropriate to be so arrogant in a moment like this.

“Ruth, I know this is hard on you. That, in spite of everything, you loved the man. But your father hasn’t really been a part of our lives in a meaningful way for some time now.” Ruth could hear the strain in Robert’s voice as he tried to sound supportive. She knew he was relieved that Bernard was gone. His presence at the hospital had been nothing but an obstacle to Robert’s progress, as her father was always the dissenting voice on the board in matters related to the advancement of lobotomy.