The Lobotomist's Wife(62)

Ruth was momentarily ashamed. Several weeks had gone by since she received Jeremy’s report. How had she let so much time pass without reading the rest of it? “On the contrary, I was pleased to see your conclusions. But, since it seemed that the information didn’t need to be included in this last board meeting, I set the report aside to prepare the rest of the materials. It looks like you did an excellent and thorough job as usual, and I plan to read every word this week. Just as soon as I finish all the follow-up from the meeting that the board requested.”

“All right. I am glad you were happy. I was concerned that you might be disappointed by the overall results or take issue with my classifications, but given the population set, it seemed the appropriate way to benchmark.” Jeremy looked at her inquisitively; he wanted to engage in further discussion about the report. She wondered why. Was there something controversial in the details she hadn’t yet read?

“I am sure I will agree with your methodology. And I really do appreciate what an impressive amount of work you were able to complete in such a short amount of time. I am sorry that I haven’t gotten through all of it yet. I assure you that I will.” She squirmed a bit in her chair. She needed to read the rest of the report as soon as possible. Alone. “Is there anything else? Unfortunately, I do need to finish this before the end of the day.”

“No, I suppose not. Just, do let me know when you have finished it. I want to be sure you are in agreement.” Jeremy stood awkwardly and left Ruth feeling uneasy as he exited the room. As soon as he was out of sight, she quietly shut her office door and retrieved his report from under a stack of other files, chastising herself for having let it sit for so long.

She flipped to the detailed section of the binder, beginning with the outcomes classified as “Good.” These patients hadn’t left the hospital but had improved after lobotomy. As she began reading, her jaw dropped open. The first name was Albert Burdell. Albert Burdell, who was a ghost of the man he had been when he arrived at Emeraldine? Who behaved like a young boy? If he was a typical example of a good result, what was a bad one?

Ruth read on for two solid hours. The report was vastly worse than she had feared. It seemed impossible that Jeremy had concluded lobotomy, overall, had been successful. No wonder he had wanted to talk to her more about the report.

Before she could confer with him, she needed to understand more for herself. She asked her secretary to clear the rest of her day, and then went directly to the continuous care ward.

Ruth returned several hours later disoriented and distraught. Yes, some of the patients she saw this afternoon seemed happy, but so much still disturbed her. Toddler-like behavior in people who had once been quite clever; obesity so extreme as to require more than one bed; epileptic episodes in patients with no prior history of the illness; terrifying, violent outbursts. She couldn’t reconcile what she just saw and read with what she had believed for so long. Surely there must be more positive outcomes? She flipped feverishly through the pages of Jeremy’s report, looking for some shred of hope. Before she could talk herself out of it, she looked up the number, dialed, and listened to her beating heart and the ringing of the phone. And then she heard it—a sweet, high-pitched voice saying hello. “Estelle? Is that you? This is Ruth Apter.”





Chapter Thirty-Eight


Margaret felt oddly nervous as they sat on the bench looking at the sea, waiting for Dr. Apter to open the door. “You’ll see, Frank. He’s a very reasonable man. Remember from when you first spoke to him?” She grabbed her husband’s hand in her own, more to reassure herself.

“Yes, well, at that point, he wasn’t proposing sticking an ice pick in your brain. I’ll hold my judgment on his reasonableness until I hear what he has to say.”

Behind them they heard the door open. “Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, do come in.”

They turned and entered. “So, I finally get a glimpse of the secret sanctum I’ve been hearing about. And please call me Frank.” Frank smiled tightly at the doctor and Margaret gave him a look that begged him to be a little kinder.

“I’m not sure how secret it is,” Dr. Apter replied congenially. “Simply reserved as a sanctuary for the people who need the comfort of the space. I’d love to show you around, especially my procedure room, but let’s talk a bit first, shall we?” He gestured toward the sofa where Margaret always sat, and she led Frank there to settle in next to her.

“I have been seeing your wife for six months now, and I believe I have come to know her quite well. Her case is of a particular sort that I see quite frequently in my practice, so I’m very familiar with its various iterations and treatment options.”

“And what sort of case is that? I’m confused, Doctor. When I spoke to you initially, you said it sounded like Maggie had baby blues. And she seems better, so much better. But now she’s telling me that she needs this ice pick thing to fix her?”

Margaret started to feel nervous. Was Frank right? Was she getting better? She looked at the coffee table for something to distract her and started straightening the magazines.

“It’s a lobotomy, Mr. Baxter, and I assure you, it’s really a very simple procedure. If you’ll just let me explain.”

“Fine. But know that I’m a salesman and a business owner, and I can smell a bad pitch from a mile away.”