Doctors Bastien & Harper
and
The Unforgettable Woman
Doctor William Harper was a solitary young man, much to the disappointment of the professors and colleagues who often attempted to seek his company. For as introverted as Dr. Harper was, he was undeniably brilliant, and this alone garnered him the endless attention of the medical community. However, despite the mountain of party invitations that eternally cluttered his desk, Harper only truly took refuge in one other human, a friend and former classmate by the name of Edouard Bastien.
It was an evening in late September and was as uneventful as every other evening Harper and Bastien had spent in one another's company. The time ambled by pleasantly as Bastien told animated and exaggerated tales about his life while Harper listened thoughtfully. Tonight's tale was full of cloaks and daggers, as Bastien allegedly helped a friend smuggle research out of the country so the government could not suppress his findings. Of course, Bastien could not reveal the identity of this friend or what the nature of his research was, he could only assure Harper that it was of the utmost importance.
“I’m telling you, Harper, a new day is coming. The world of medicine has been stagnant for too long, and they want to keep it that way. The old ways the old traditions, they are scared of us, Harper, scared of the revolution we are bringing.”
Harper laughed softly, “What revolution? I’m not aware of joining a revolt against anything.”
“Don’t laugh, Harper, I’m serious. You better than anyone should see the cusp of power we stand on. You are the youngest and most ingenious brain surgeon of our time. You are breaking the rules and pushing the boundaries, not yet willing to settle for the way things have always been done.”
Harper waved his hand to dismiss Bastien's misplaced affections. “I don’t know where you get these ideas from, you make it sound like I’m doing miracles instead of surgeries. I wouldn’t, in fact neither of us would, be where we are without the the old ways, as you put it. These traditions are the foundation of the entire medical field.”
“And it is time to crush those foundations, don’t you see, they are only holding us back. For example, right at this very moment I am conducting a radical study, the ethics board almost didn’t approve it.” Bastien conspiratorially leaned closer to Harper, warming to his theme. “The others are held back by outdated morals, but I’m willing to take the risks. I believe that this new therapy will revolutionize neurophysiology.”
“What new therapy?” Harper asked cautiously.
“Electroconvulsive therapy, it's largely untested, but I’m ready to change all that.”
Harper couldn't help his audible intake of breath and Bastien seized the moment to plunge on with his pitch.
"I see you have heard the rumours about it, they have been doing trials in the prison systems for years. But it's time to bring this dirty secret of medical science out into the light. I intend to be the one who makes it an honest and respectable treatment."
"Who could possibly be desperate enough to volunteer for this study, Bastien? I'm hardly surprised the ethics board tried to turn you down, the mortality risk is huge and the success rate suspect at best."
Bastien quieted for a moment, his next words were solemn and lacked his previous charisma.
"We have a group of volunteers, they are all prone to intense chronic seizures. Many of them will die within the year due to the increasing severity of the seizures... in fact one woman, my current patient, may not survive this week. Her seizures have become so frequent and so violent that, well, let's just say this therapy is the only option she has left. She understands the risks, but without this therapy she will die. I know I can save her, Harper, I can save her and so many others..."
After a moment, Harper's face softened and he conceded. "I'm sure you will, Bastien, I have never met anyone as maddeningly optimistic and driven as you."
___________________________________________________________________________
Harper wandered aimlessly through his empty house, absorbed in the book he held a few inches from his nose. He had all but forgotten his conversation with Bastien earlier in the week. Bastien had been that way since he knew him, idealistic, passionate, almost obsessive. None of this was new, and while he could sympathize with Bastien's drive to cure all ills, Harper was also aware how impulsive and extreme Bastien's methodology was.
After thinking very little of their meeting, Harper was more than surprised to hear a sudden desperate banging at his front door. In fact, Harper didn't immediately recognize the sound, it had been storming all day, and for a moment, Harper could almost convince himself it was only thunder. With loath footsteps, Harper went to his door.
On opening the door he found his friend. Bastien had obviously been in the storm for a while, his clothes were soaked through and his hair was damp and windswept. Initially, all Harper could do was stand there, taking in the strange scene. Because it wasn’t only Bastien standing on his doorstep, on his shoulder he supported another human, equally bedraggled as himself.
In his shock, Harper attempted to start several sentences, but couldn’t quite gather his wits to form anything intelligible.
“Good God, man, let us in!”
Bastien’s shouting brought Harper back into the moment and he hurried to usher them inside.
Harper quickly assisted Bastien in moving the other person, a woman who looked to be in her earlier twenties, onto his sofa. He fetched a towel for her and offered Bastien access to his closet, which Bastien gratefully accepted.
After little more than an hour, Bastien’s boots and wet clothing were drying near the fireplace and the woman sleeping on the sofa was wrapped in her own weight worth of blankets and towels.
“How long has she been unconscious?” Harper’s attention was focused on her now.
“A few hours...” Bastien sat in a chair near by, despite the change of clothing he still looked haggard and unwell. “I didn’t know where else to take her.”
“Well a hospital may have been a better choice, if I’m being honest.”
Bastien shook his head, “I couldn’t take her there, it had to be you- you’re the only one I trust.”
Harper didn’t respond immediately, he looked at Bastien and then at the young woman.
“I will do what I can, but tomorrow you will explain exactly what this is all about.”
Bastien nodded, relief flushing his features. “Yes of course, tomorrow I will tell you everything. Thank you, William.”
Harper knelt down next to the woman, he took her wrist in his hand and studied his watch carefully, timing her heartbeats.
_____________________________________________________________________
Grey morning light filtered through the thick curtains of Harper’s sitting room, gently illuminating its sleeping occupants. Bastien had simply fallen asleep in the chair where he sat, bodyparts precariously balanced, threatening at any moment to topple him onto the floor. Harper was a few feet away on the floor, his head supported by the sofa. He had been awake most of the night, periodically checking his patient's breath and pulse. Even in his sleep, his hand was still wrapped around her wrist.
Eventually the early morning light roused Harper to life, and for a few moments after he couldn’t piece together last night's events. He shifted his weight and winced as he felt the pain in his numb legs. His shoulder ached from being propped up on the sofa all night and uncurling his back was a herculean effort. He began to remember the strange night and looking onto the sofa saw the young woman. He had almost thought it was dream, but there she was, still asleep and still a little damp. His hand still wrapped around her wrist, at one point in the night checking her pulse, but now just holding it. He could see the gentle rise and fall of her body, and he knew she was still alive. That much was a relief. Harper began to withdraw his hand, but he stopped when the woman opened her eyes. Her fingers curled around his hand and halted his retreat.
“A little longer...” her voice was weak and hoarse. “May we stay like this a little longer?”
Harper fought the instinct to pull away from her, slowly relaxing his hand into hers and returning the pressure, their finger interlacing comfortably. He readjusted himself against the couch, allowing their time to continue in silence. He watched the sunbeams turn yellow and grow into daylight, until finally he couldn’t ignore them anymore.
“My name is Doctor William Harper, I’ve been looking after you since last night. I’m afraid I have to apologize for the accommodations, I don’t usually treat patients in my home...”
Above him on the sofa he could hear her laugh, “Well, accomodations aside, I’m sure I’m in excellent hands, Dr. Harper.”
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
This time she hesitated, eventually she said, “No, I’m afraid I don’t recall anything from last night...”
“What is the last thing you do remember?”
There was no response this time.
“Miss?” Harper tried again, “What is the last memory you can recall?”
The woman simply shook her head, and slowly realization dawned on them both.
“Miss, what’s your name?”
“I- I don’t know.”
______________________________________________________________
Harper and Bastien stood in the adjoining study, the connecting door to the parlor closed. Harper had unceremoniously roused Bastien and none to gently dragged him into the office. Outside the woman continued to doze on the sofa undisturbed.
“Bastien, It's about time you explained exactly what is going on. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Before I explain exactly what I did, you have to understand, I saved her life.”
Harper slammed his hand down on the desk in frustration, “The woman out there has no memories, Bastien! Is that how you save people these days?”
“It was a side effect! She understood the risks, we all takes risks- God, you're a surgeon, William, you’ve lost patients before!”
“Yes, and at the rate you’re going, we’ll have that much in common soon enough.” Harper took a step forwards, closing the distance between himself and Bastien. “Now tell me what you did, so I can help fix this.”
Bastien swallowed uncomfortably, “It was the shock therapy. She started to have seizures during the treatment, we should have stopped- but I kept going. The voltage was already- well higher than it should have been, let's just say that. But I could feel it, we were so close. And if we had stopped she would have died on that table anyway... So we just kept going.” Bastien turned away from Harper.
Harper’s voice softened, “Bastien... She needs to be in a hospital- I’m not equipped to take care of her here. What if she starts to have seizures again?”
“She won’t! I told you, I cured her! I just-” Bastien faltered, trying to come back from his outburst. “I need some time- a few weeks at the most, to type up my results and send them to the journal. I can’t risk anyone finding out until it's published- don’t you see, Harper, this therapy is revolutionary!”
Harper shook his head, “Two weeks- you have two weeks. I’ll do what I can for her in the meantime, though it's not like I can bring her memories back with a scalpel.”
________________________________________________________
Harper leaned against the counter, the weight of the night before still heavy on him. Standing felt like too much effort, and the kitchen counter was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into sleep. Bastien made himself busy. After the heavy exchange in the office, Bastien has returned to his bright and optimistic mood. He was involved making hot beverages to revive the house's occupants. The mysterious woman was finally awake, she sat at the kitchen table, still wrapped in blankets and looking a little chilled. Bastien helpfully pushed a finished drink towards her, she carefully took the hot cup between her hands and gently moved it closer to her lips.
Bastien offered Harper a beverage as well, Harper took it without any any comment. The three occupied the kitchen, but said very little. The morning had worn on and it was close to highnoon. The curtain, however, were pulled tight, leaving the kitchen in a warm but dusky gloom.
Finally Harper broke the silence.
“Miss, do you mind telling us what you can remember? Anything at all would be helpful.”
The woman smiled thinly and continued to study her drink. “I’m not really sure what I can tell you...”
Harper pushed on, “What can’t you remember?”
She laughed which surprised Harper. “Dr. Harper, I’ve lost my memories- how am I supposed to tell you the things I can’t remember.”
“She makes a good point,” Bastien whispered, but Harper silenced him with a vicious scowl.
“I wish I could be of more help, I really do- But I am being completely honest when I tell you I have no memories.”
Bastien cut in, “Her name is Penelope Woolridge, at least that is what her patient files said. Her parents are abroad in the Americas and haven't been back for years. Her seizures have been an on-going condition since she was a young child, but have grown in severity every year of life- until recently when they became a death sentence... but that’s all I know. Her file was thin...”
“Bastien... I really don't think she shouldn’t stay here”
“You said two weeks”
“Yes, I know, and I’m not about to revoke that. But be smart, Bastien, we don’t know anything about her or her medical history.”
“I know enough.”
“Excuse me,” Penelope's voice cut through their fervent bickering. “I have lost my memories- But I haven’t lost my hearing. And, as I said, I don’t remember a lot, but I am almost positive it is incredibly rude to talk about a person like that while they are still in the room.”
Both Harper and Bastien looked abashed. Bastien, recovered first and tried to change to subject.
“Miss Wooldridge, please drink your tea, I’m sure you will feel more yourself once you’ve had a hot drink.”
Penelope caught him in a tight gaze, his attempts to placate her unsuccessful. Finally Harper broke their standoff.
“Miss, I’m very sorry about our behavior, we have hardly treated you with the thoughtfulness and courtesy you deserve. But of the three of us, I’m sure you understand the best, how unusual this situation is, and I’m afraid proper manners have fallen by the wayside.”
“Yes, yes,” Bastien agreed pulling up a chair and seating himself next to her. “So why don't we all be civil, and have our drinks and then proceed from there.”
Harper reluctantly pulled another chair to the table, the beverage in his own hand still untouched.
Penelope seemed to have regained her good humour and accepted Bastien proposal. She accepted the tea cup once more pushed in her direction and took a small inquisitive sip. Immediately, however, she set the cup back down.
“Something wrong?” Bastien asked seeing her face twisted in distaste.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but this tea- It is far too sweat.”
Bastien looked perplexed. “This is always how I make my tea- Maybe this is the amnesia talking, Ms. Wooldridge, it's not uncommon for brain damage to also affect taste and smell.”
“No, no, I’m sorry, I may not remember much, but I can assure you- I have never liked sweet things such as this.”
Bastien seemed about to protest but Harper cut him off.
“Here,” He slid his cup across the table, “Its coffee, unsweetened, I’m afraid I’m just not in the mood right now.”
Penelope inspected the new cup, and sniffed the steam. She smiled at the scent and took a satisfied sip.
“Thank you, Dr. Harper, this is much more to my tastes.”
_____________________________________________________________
Harper sat at his overflowing desk. Dozens of books overlapped across its surface, charts spread open above that and all across these papers his characteristic scrawling letters. Notes and arrows and his own little sketches littering their surfaces. Harper was completely absorbed in his work. He flitted between anatomical drawings and detailed text books, all the while, writing his own footnotes in the margins.
The door to his study squeaked open, but the rustling of his papers seemed to drown it out, but Penelope's footsteps eventually caught his attention. It had been a day or so since her arrival, Harper had prescribed bed rest, and little else.They had hardly seen one another since their late tea the day before. Bastien himself had disappeared almost immediately afterwards. Harper had heard nothing from him.
Standing up quickly, Harper disturbed the many papers and books entombing him.
“Good morning, Miss Woolridge, you look well today.”
Penelope was distracted by the mess on the table. Her gaze exploring the old tomes and unfolded papers. When she finally responded she said, “Good afternoon you mean.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Penelope looked up from the papers. “Doctor Harper, it's well past noon, soon to be evening. You would know as much if you ever left this office, or for that matter, opened a blind in here.”
Harper stumbled over his response and eventually apologized, though he wasn’t quite sure for what. However, Penelope was disinterest in his response, her eyes had fallen over a particularly large and detailed diagram of a human brain. Bits had been circled in red with notes written along next to them.
“Is this... me?” She ran her fingers over the drawing. Harper hesitated. “Doctor Harper, I think I deserve to know what is going on inside my own head... Please I want to know.”
Finally Harper answered, “Yes... The red is where the damage most likely is. These regions affect your long term memory...”
“Can you do surgery to repair it?”
Harper shook his head. “Time. Your brain may heal in time. Your memories may return slowly. But this is as much a condition of the mind as the brain.... I’m sorry”
“Don’t be. It is hard for me to grieve over a loss I can’t even remember. Besides, the world seems to be continuing just fine without Penelope Woolridge in it. So don’t be sorry, I’m not.” Penelope brighten as she continued, “These diagrams are fascinating.” She sat down at the table with Harper, who returned to his own chair. She pointed to a spot on the drawing, “What is this part called?”
“That is the occipital lobe, we theorize that it is how we process what we our eyes see. But we don’t really know how any of it works, it's such a mysterious science.”
Penelope nodded and continued to flip through the pages of his book, occasionally asking questions and listening carefully as Harper explained.
