Margaret felt her face turn from pink to gray. “What do you mean? The doctor says that I must. And soon. He says the longer I wait, the less chance there is of success. I need help.”
“That’s ridiculous. Don’t you see? You aren’t that kind of sick. I’ve been reading more about postpartum conditions. The feelings can linger. I’ve learned that there have been some cases where, when you’re under anesthesia during delivery, the nurses assault the new mothers to keep them more still—it’s a horrifying fact, but you can imagine that it could surely cause enduring psychological aftereffects. That might be what’s happening for you. You gave up so much of your life for your family, that could also contribute to your ongoing depression. You see? There are many reasons that you may be feeling the way you do, and none of them should be treated with lobotomy.”
Suddenly she was standing, gripping Margaret forcefully by the shoulders. “Please, Margaret, please, do not come back here tomorrow. Save yourself.”
Margaret stood up too, her eyes wide with fear. “I’m sorry.” She walked quickly away from Ruth toward the kitchen door. “I have to go.”
The second the door shut behind her, she began to run. Ruth seemed to have lost her mind, and Margaret had to get away, get home, as fast as she could. Nothing Ruth said made any sense. She needed to talk to Frank. He would agree with her. And then she needed to find Dr. Apter so she could fix herself before it was too late.
Chapter Forty-Five
The situation was even more dire than Ruth had comprehended.
Migraine headaches? Lobotomy.
Unruly child? Lobotomy.
Unhappy wife? Lobotomy.
Robert had to be stopped.
Ruth went back to the carriage house and picked up the file she had been looking at before Margaret arrived, desperately hoping that underneath the disquieting photo of the man in the filthy boardinghouse room there would be something she could use against Robert. The file contained three pieces of paper. The first was an order from the state of Ohio for a lobotomy to be performed on a Samuel Orenbluth at Midwestern Regional Hospital. The next was a short paragraph of Robert’s handwritten notes.
Patient failed to appear for court-ordered lobotomy . . . went to Silver Sun boardinghouse . . . subject was agitated . . . applied electroshock for sedation . . . Once patient was unconscious, performed transorbital lobotomy on-site.
The third piece of paper in the file was a copy of an insurance claim submitted to Blue Cross. Robert had requested reimbursement for the cost of the surgery. Ruth walked to the phone at Robert’s desk, her legs unsteady below her. She dialed the exchange for Midwestern Regional.
“Yes, hello, this is Ruth Apter calling from Emeraldine Hospital. I would like to speak to”—she looked down at the form for the name of the administrator—“Mr. Warren, please. If he is available. It’s an urgent matter.”
Ruth sat anxiously waiting. Could Robert really have been so reckless, so myopic, as to have lobotomized a man in his room with no medical directive to do so? The fact that he was seeking insurance reimbursement meant that the hospital hadn’t paid. They were either unaware or did not approve of his performing the procedure. Either could trigger a national medical review and likely cause Robert to lose his license permanently. She realized her hands were shaking.
“Hello, this is Jonathan Warren.”
“Mr. Warren, this is Ruth Apter, I’m calling on behalf of Emeraldine Hospital in Manhattan to check in on a patient who I believe was treated by Dr. Apter when he was there in April of last year?”
“Ah yes, Mrs. Apter. We are so grateful to your husband for all that he did for us. And to your incredible hospital for enabling it. Happy to help if I can.” He was right. Emeraldine had enabled this to happen. She was momentarily overcome with panic and considered hanging up, but she knew she couldn’t. She needed to get to the bottom of this, regardless.