Only 20 percent of patients left the hospital? She knew some remained—more than she’d hoped—but still, one of the key benefits of lobotomy was its ability to return inmates to the world. Ruth remembered sending so many people home. She thought of sweet Estelle Lennox, who, last Ruth heard, was now married with two children. How was she part of such a small subsegment of results? Still, Mandrake had concluded that lobotomy led to improvement. Even if only 20 percent of patients left the hospital, more than 50 percent were better off. That was really an excellent result.
She turned to the detailed pages. What were Mandrake’s criteria for classification? Who, she wondered, was considered a good outcome?
Classifications were developed as follows:
Good: those no longer requiring isolation, who have been moved from the secure wing to continuous care, and who have exhibited no violent or dangerous behaviors in the past year.
Fair: those who are generally able to cohabitate with other inmates in continuous care, but require periodic instances of isolation, restraints, or additional ECT.
Unimproved: includes both patients who exhibit symptoms consistent with their initial intake diagnosis without change, and/or those who have deteriorated since initial assessment.
Operative death has been very rare and is consistent with broader hospital surgical statistics.
She was slightly unnerved by his classifications. They weren’t as promising as she had hoped. Still, Mandrake was a levelheaded and reasonable man; if he deemed these results appropriate, surely, she would agree.
She was about to move on to the individual patient descriptions, eager to see examples of the individuals who fell into each classification, when her secretary rang. She had been so anxious to receive Jeremy’s report that she had completely forgotten her lunch with the president of the School of Medicine. Satisfied for the moment with Mandrake’s encouraging conclusions, she closed the binder and gathered her things. The rest of the report would have to wait.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Margaret had been mortified when Dr. Apter’s wife first discovered her lingering on the property, but Ruth was so kind. She felt like a long-lost aunt, and when Margaret saw Ruth waiting for her the following week, she was overjoyed. They quickly became friends. Ruth even confided in Margaret about the loss of her brother, Harry. Margaret was so lucky that war hadn’t changed Frank one bit. No, she was the one who had changed. But Ruth made her feel a little brighter. Now the highlight of Margaret’s week was when she and Ruth met on the bench in the lilac grove for their walks. Especially on a day like today, when her session with Dr. Apter had left her so on edge. Frank had made it clear that he was not in favor of the lobotomy. But he would support whatever she decided. Maybe his reluctance was the reason that every time she made up her mind to schedule it, she got cold feet. Whatever the reason, the doctor seemed to be losing patience with her wavering.
“Margaret, are you all right?” Ruth looked concerned. Somehow Margaret already felt calmer.
“I feel a little . . . unsure today. I’m worried I angered your husband.”
“I doubt that.” Ruth looked at her with surprise. “His role is never to be angry with you.”
Margaret realized that wasn’t how she felt in her sessions. Instead, she felt chastised and inspected for flaws that needed fixing. And there were many. But she couldn’t say that to Ruth.
“It’s funny, sometimes I feel more comfortable with you than in there. I’m so grateful that your schedule has allowed you to be here for me these past few weeks. When we take our walks, I actually feel like I might be okay. Like everything might be okay.”
“Well, you are! And it will.” Ruth smiled warmly.
“How do you know that?”
“I have seen what it looks like when it won’t. You’re strong, Margaret. You might not realize it, but to me, it was immediately apparent: you will find your happiness again.”