The Procedure
T HE P ROCEDURE
T HEIR ROOMS IN THE small cottage were utilitarian but clean. The simple meal they had in the staff room was flavorless and overcooked, but it relieved their hunger. They gathered in Dr. Stephens’s office afterward to meet with him and his colleague, Dr. Everett Foyle, who was exceptionally tall and lanky, with curly dark hair, and around forty.
Molly opened the discussion by saying, “She seems quite bloated, which suggests she’s retaining fluids. Is there something wrong with the functioning of her kidneys?”
A surprised Foyle said, “You sound like you have medical training.”
“I do, actually. I’m a nurse auxiliary at a clinic in London. And I performed nursing services at a hospital in Leiston before that.”
“Remarkable,” said Foyle, eyeing her intently.
Stephens said, “As I noted in my letter, your mother suffers from some difficult internal disorders.”
“She also felt very warm. Is she feverish?”
Foyle shook his head. “It’s merely a side effect of her treatments.”
“Her eyes also seemed… off.”
“Yes, we noted that, as we’ve noted it with other patients who have received treatments,” said Foyle.
“So another side effect?” said Oliver tersely.
“Yes, that and the lethargy that you probably witnessed,” said Foyle. “But that is preferable to the violent outbursts and uncontrollable seizures that she was exhibiting before.”
Oliver looked at him with an expression that clearly said, Is it?
“And the scars on her temple?” Molly interjected.
Foyle spoke up again. “Your mother suffers from a complex social neurosis that has taken quite a toll on her. Procedures were done to alleviate the behavior that such an affliction causes.”
“What sort of behavior?” asked Molly.
“Anger, primarily, as I alluded to just now. She was virtually uncontrollable when she first arrived here. Heavy sedation was required at first.”
“What sorts of procedures?” asked Oliver.
Foyle looked at him. “Are you related to Miss Wakefield? Dr. Stephens did not mention.”
“No, but I’m her friend.”
Foyle made a show of turning to Molly. “The procedure is called a leucotomy . I refer to it as a lobotomy .”
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Molly.
“Well, it was invented less than a decade ago and is a relatively progressive treatment in England. It is used with patients for whom other treatments have not worked. Sort of a last resort, as it were.”
“And the scars I saw?” Molly asked again.
“They come from the procedure. I won’t get into too much detail, but an incision is made and an instrument is then inserted to manipulate certain connections between the frontal lobes and the rest of the brain.”
“Manipulate the brain ?” said Oliver, looking astonished.
Foyle glanced sharply at him. “Yes. We believe much of the cause of our patients’ debilitating issues lies in that arena. Once that connection is broken, the issue is resolved. At least that is the hope.”
“And the wounds in the eye sockets?” said Molly.
“Very recently, an American chap pioneered something called the transorbital lobotomy. When I read of it, I was instantly intrigued, because it is far simpler and takes less time than a traditional lobotomy, as we work through the thin bones around the eye sockets.”
“Isn’t that painful?” said Molly.
“We use electroconvulsive therapy to induce a seizure that renders the patient unconscious before they undergo the operation.”
“It is much preferred to the old method of administering cardiazol to induce seizures,” interjected Stephens.
Foyle added, “And the procedure takes no more than twenty minutes. Quite straightforward.”
Oliver looked at Stephens. “And you also perform these operations ?”
Stephens looked taken aback. “Oh, no. Dr. Foyle brought these new methods to us.”
“So all of this was done on my mother, and yet…?” said Molly.
“Well, the success rate is not one hundred percent, Miss Wakefield,” said Foyle. “Far from it, in fact. And I’m afraid that your mother was not as responsive to the treatment as certain others have been.”
“But she seemed lucid and calm when I saw her earlier.”
“Yes, she has those periods,” said Stephens. “Indeed, that is one of the benefits of the lobotomy. It makes people… calmer.”
“So, is she not calm all the time?” asked Molly.
Stephens coughed and said, “That is why we lock the door.”
“But why did you tell me that she is, well, practically speaking, not going to live much longer?” said Molly.
Stephens looked at Foyle, who said resignedly, “It has nothing to do with her mental issues, Miss Wakefield. She has an incurable disease in her kidneys. That’s the principal reason she is bloated, because of the retention of fluids, as you so sagely noted. As these fluids build it puts enormous stress on other organs, including the lungs and the heart. It has reached a stage where no more medical treatments or procedures are possible to prolong her life.”
Molly, Charlie, and Oliver sat there looking stunned.
Foyle said, “I’m very sorry, Miss Wakefield. We really did all we could. Now, I hate to rush off, but I have night rounds to make. I’m sure Dr. Stephens can address any further queries you might have. Again, thank you for coming. I’m sure your mother was very much pleased.”
After he left, Molly turned to Stephens. “So how long does she have?”
Stephens looked uncomfortable at the bluntness of Molly’s question. “I… I would say two weeks or so, if she doesn’t take a dramatic turn.”
Molly put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Miss Wakefield, we really did try to help her.”
“I’m sure you did all you could.” She glanced at Oliver before saying, “Has my father been by to see my mother recently?”
“No, he hasn’t. That surprised me because he once came quite regularly, even with the disruption of war. But I did write as often as I could to keep him informed.”
“I noticed that your letters stopped coming to our home,” said Molly.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. I received a cable from Mr. Wakefield that directed us to send any correspondence to an address in Scotland.”
Molly shot Oliver a look. She said, “So he knows that my mother is dying?”
“Yes, at least he does if my letters reached him.”
“Did some men from the government visit here?” asked Oliver.
“Yes, they did, as a matter of fact,” said Stephens. “They asked about your father. I hadn’t heard from him at that point for many months and told the men that. The cable from your father about the letters going to Scotland came after they had visited here.” He paused and studied her. “Is there some problem ?”
“Apparently, but that is not your concern. And how are things being paid for?”
“Your father gave us a large amount that has been more than sufficient for her care. We should not require any further payment. But we have lost a great many of our nurses to the war effort. I do worry about our ability to adequately care for our patients going forward.”
“I would like to help then,” said Molly abruptly. “I can assist the nurses you do have.”
Oliver said, “Molly, do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, what with your mother’s condition? And with everything emotionally you must be going through right now?”
“It would provide something constructive for me to do, while I wait for my mother…”
Stephens said, “That is wonderfully generous of you. Thank you. Now, you all need to get some rest. Shall we reconvene tomorrow morning over breakfast?”
“At which time I would like to hear what you know about my wife,” said Oliver.
Stephens looked at him sadly. “Yes, of course.”
They walked to their cottage and gathered in the front room. Oliver studied Molly, who was sitting in a chair and staring down at her hands. “Molly, I’m so sorry.”
“And my father is in Scotland? Is Major Bryant wrong and he’s not a killer?”
“What?” exclaimed Charlie.
Oliver filled Charlie in about Molly’s father. Then he turned to her and said, “They rarely get such things wrong.”
Molly said, “I had hopes for something better for her. And him. But hopes don’t always come true, do they?”
“No, they don’t,” said Oliver. “Especially now.”