“Mr. Emeraldine,” Robert cut in jarringly as his knee bounced under the table, rattling the china charger and nearly spilling the soup. “I’ll have you know that I am not simply doing lab research on cadavers.”
“Robert, Father is aware that you have now spent several years studying the brains of patients.” Ruth reached out under the table to try to hit Robert’s foot with hers and gave him a look, admonishing him to stop.
“You mean that rogue theory about brain connections and mental illness?” Bernard chuckled.
“It is hardly rogue,” Robert retorted. “I know you believe in the biological approach to treatment. And there is cutting-edge research that proves, unequivocally, that altering the connections in the brain helps to address a host of previously uncurable mental diseases. I have been working with a highly respected doctor in Portugal, Egas Moniz, who has been very generous with his own research. In fact, we are now performing a brain surgery based on Dr. Moniz’s leucotomy that seems to be nothing short of a miracle at the hospital. Our lobotomy—”
Edward dropped his spoon with a loud clank. Ruth felt sick. How could Robert be so reckless?
“I am sure I understood you incorrectly. It seemed like you said that you have performed brain surgery at my hospital?” Bernard asked in a voice all the more menacing for its measured tone.
“Gentlemen,” Helen interjected with some force, “I don’t believe this kind of business belongs at the dinner table, particularly during our holiday meal! Honestly.” Helen lifted and refolded her napkin and looked at Bernard and Robert with a sharp warning before taking a graceful and deliberate spoonful of soup.
“You’re absolutely right, Helen. I apologize for steering the conversation in this direction. May I just say, sir”—Robert turned back to Bernard—“that it’s not exactly your hospital. Of course, you paid for the wonderful facilities but—”
“That’s right. I paid for the facilities, I run the board. I might not have a degree in medicine, but make no mistake, as long as my name is on the door, it is most certainly my hospital.”
How could he? Ruth began to sweat and felt her stomach folding in on itself. She had hoped her mother’s admonition would have saved them, but now she feared Robert had reached a point of no return. “Father. Please. Of course it is your hospital. That is why Charles and I are preparing a detailed presentation for you and the rest of the board at Monday’s meeting. You will see all the data to support the impressive results of Robert and Edward’s work. They have made an incredible breakthrough, one that could put Emeraldine at the forefront of the most revolutionary care for the mentally ill—”
“Yes, Mr. Emeraldine,” Robert cut her off again just as she found her voice, “my lobotomy is a marvel of a surgery that promises to tame even the most violent patients. Since the surgery, our patients report less anxiety, less mania, a cessation of aggressive thoughts and impulses, and our caretakers are able to do their work with fewer interruptions. I daresay this might just be one of the greatest surgical innovations of our time.” Ruth braced herself. She would not have given this level of detail to her father even if she had planned to tell him about the lobotomies tonight.
Bernard’s face turned red with fury. “Your patients—plural? I cannot believe that you have the audacity to risk the reputation of my hospital!”
“Hardly, sir. We are simply and effectively drilling into the brain and taking the core of some tissue in the frontal lobe. That is why we call the procedure a ‘lobe-otomy.’ This will soon become commonplace, I can assure you.”
“Enough.” Helen tapped her spoon on the edge of her china soup bowl. “Robert, I am surprised at you. This is simply gruesome. How will we ever have the stomach for our lovely stuffed squabs if you continue on with this?”
“Just a moment, dear. If I understand correctly, you are sitting at my holiday table telling me that you decided to take it upon yourself to intentionally damage healthy brain tissue, to alter the very human essence of a person, obliterating all that distinguishes us from the animals.” Bernard looked on in disbelief, and Ruth felt her heart fall to her ankles. She took a deep breath to calm her panic and fury. Yes, they shouldn’t have broached this subject tonight, but still, her father simply refused to see the point, to appreciate the progress they had made.