by Alexa Kang
She would do this. She would go to Anthony, no matter how hard she must try.
IV
Part Four - The Shell-Shocked Patient
11
"Good morning, Ron." Tessa came by for her daily visit with Ron Castile during her morning break. His face brightened the minute he saw her. She noticed the stress balls in his hand. Since receiving this gift, he had not had any more episodes of hysteria. That little device had helped him.
The information her mother had sent her about Arthur Hurst's experiments helped too. They piqued Dr. Donovan's interest. After reading the medical journal articles Tessa had given him, Donovan's attitude changed a hundred and eighty degrees, and he decided Ron would be his prize patient for potentially pioneering a field of medical treatments for veterans in the United States. Tessa was thankful for that. Whatever Dr. Donovan's motivation might be, at least the medical staff was now taking Ron's condition seriously and was trying to help him recover from his illness.
One of the ways they attempted to treat Ron was occupational therapy, which Arthur Hurst had tried. The job they gave him was easy. They assigned him to help the kitchen staff distribute meals to the other patients during lunch. His "work" became part of a routine they had prescribed for him. The routine also included Tessa's daily visit and his daily afternoon walk. With his life now more stable and his focus away from the war, he had shown a marked improvement. He could now interact with people. He still had nightmares, but those had become less frequent. When the nightmares woke him, he knew to calm himself with the stress balls and ring for help without causing a scene.
But his deepest wounds remained. He still complained of back and hip pains no matter how many times they had explained to him he had no back or hip injuries. When they said his pains were not real, he would become distraught and fall back into depression. As they could not give him medications nor perform surgeries for imaginary pains, no one knew how to treat this problem. All they could do was to arrange for a physiotherapist to give him weekly massages.
His case, thus, continued to be a challenge.
"How are you today?" Tessa gave him a glass of orange juice as usual.
"I'm doing good. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you." She handed him a book. "Look what I brought you today."
He took it and looked at the book's title. A Scandal in Bohemia.
"It's one of my favorites. I think you'll like it."
"Thank you. I've never read Sherlock Holmes before." He turned the pages.
Their conversation was interrupted when all of a sudden, the other patients stirred and the room turned quiet. Dr. Donovan entered with a tough and steely-built man in military uniform and several nurses and attendants behind them. The man commanded everyone's attention as soon as he walked in. Despite his white hair, he moved as briskly as any man half his age. His presence had an immediate impact on everyone. Those who could move stood up. Even the ones who could not move their legs but had upper body mobility straightened up in their beds. Only those who were too sick, asleep, or sedated by medicine stayed as they were.
Ron's face turned ghastly white at the sight of the man.
"Ron, are you all right?" Tessa asked, nonplussed. Ron didn't answer.
"Holy Bejeezus," Tommy Ross in the next bed whispered to her. "It's Major General Frank Castile."
"Major general?"
The distinguished man approached her and Ron while ignoring all the other patients. Ron tightened his fist around the stress balls.
"Do you know him?" Tessa asked Ron.
"My father…" Ron said. His voice was meek and barely audible.
"Your father?" Tessa asked. "He's come to see you then? That's wonderful."
But Ron shook his head. His expression turned more and more agitated.
"What's wrong?"
Before Ron could answer, the general was standing before them. Tessa politely stepped aside.
"Captain," the general said to Ron.
Ron did not answer but stared at him.
"Why are you still in the hospital?" The general glanced at Ron from head to foot. "I don't see any injury on you. What are you here for?"
Ron inhaled and took a deep shaky breath, then lowered his eyes and looked away. "My nerves."
The general glowered at him.
"The war…" Ron's voice quivered. "I couldn't take it anymore."
Before anyone could see it coming, the general raised his arm and slapped Ron hard on the face. Ellie, who had come in with the nurses following Dr. Donovan, covered her mouth while the other nurses and attendants gasped. Ron's cheek turned scarlet red.
"Nerves?" the general shouted. "Nerves?" He pointed at the rest of the patients in the room. "Look at these men here. Look at the ones who lost their limbs and how their bodies were shattered. Do you know how many millions of men are out there in battles right now, risking their lives? And you're hiding here because of nerves?"
Ron squinted his eyes and teared up, but the general was not moved. "Do you know how many parents are sacrificing their sons to the front line, while you, my own son, are hiding here because you can't take it anymore? You coward. You're a total disgrace," he roared and raised his arm again.
Without thinking, Tessa threw herself in front of Ron. All she knew was she had to shield and protect him.
"Tessa!" Ellie screamed, while Dr. Donovan and the other patients watched in horror.
The general caught his arm just in time before he brought his hand down on her. He, too, looked as shocked as everyone else. Seeing Tessa throwing herself in front of Ron threw him into a momentary state of confusion.
"Move away, nurse," he said when he regained his composure. "This is none of your business."
"No." Tessa glared at him. She felt as angry as the general looked. "I won't let you hurt him."
"He's my son and a soldier under my command. I can discipline him if I want to," he said, although his voice wavered slightly as he sized Tessa up.
"And he's my patient," she stared him in the eye in defiance. "It's my duty to protect him."
Taken aback, the general observed her more closely. Tessa felt as if the man was reading her, but she refused to back down. The general took a step toward her. She thought he might strike again and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Then do your job right and fix him," the general hollered. His thunderous voice boomed in her ear.
He then left them and marched toward the exit. As he passed by Dr. Donovan, he said, "I give you one week to cure and discharge him."
The entire room was stunned into silence. Cowering in his bed, Ron cried. Tessa grabbed his hand and held it as the general walked away.
Ron fell into a helpless state of depression after his father left, crying uncontrollably in the corner of the room on the floor next to his bed. Nothing could calm him. No one could coax him out. Dr. Donovan decided to give him a shot of sedative to make him fall asleep. "We'll review and discuss his case tomorrow morning," the doctor told the nurses and attendants.
After the staff left, Tessa pulled the blanket further up over Ron's shoulders and tucked him in. Even asleep, his face showed such anguish.
One week. How could he possibly recover in one week?
The next morning, when she came to make her morning round, she found Ron back on the floor. The vacant look in his eyes had returned. All the progress they had made had been wiped out.
"Ron?" She kneeled down next to him. "Ron, are you all right?"
He didn't respond. He languished there without an ounce of vigor.
"Would you please come back into the bed?" Tessa shoved him lightly.
"I can't move." His lips drooped and tightened. He was about to cry again. "My back and hip hurt so much."
"It won't get any better by you lying on the floor," she said. "Please. Let me help you. Please stand up. Do it for me? Please?"
He nodded while trying to hold back his tears. She grabbed his arm and helped him up. When he stood up, his waist twis
ted in an odd way that made his hip protrude to the left side and his body contorted as he walked. Tessa's heart sank as she helped him back into bed. He was now even worse than when they started.
At least Dr. Donovan still cared. She had worried he might give up after what had happened yesterday.
"I've been contacting doctors in veterans hospitals in other states these last few weeks," he said to Tessa, Ellie, and Sarah later in his office. "Ron Castile isn't the only one suffering from severe battle neurosis. I sent them copies of the journal articles Tessa gave me. There are people who would like to help patients with this syndrome."
Tessa was happy and surprised to hear that, considering Dr. Donovan's initial resistance to her request for help. There was even a tone of genuine concern in his voice which was not there when he first agreed to try to seriously treat Ron. Perhaps he had come to care more about Ron after spending weeks trying to help him.
"The problem is, none of the veterans hospitals is equipped to provide the proper treatment," Donovan continued. "We don't have the right resources. Personally, I would like to do what Hurst did, set up a specialized department for treating battle fatigue here in our hospital, but I highly doubt the military or the government would give us the funding we need. You saw the general's reaction. I don't know how to convince the military this is a real war-related illness that requires medical attention."
"If you could open a specialized department," Ellie said, "what would you do?"
"Well," Donovan said, "I would begin a small pioneer program and arrange to transfer a group of patients with this condition to us. We could put them under close observation, document their symptoms. We would try out different experimental treatment methods and record the results. Then we would have concrete data to present our case to change people's minds and expand treatment to even more people." He sounded as enthusiastic as if he had set up the program already. "But of course, even a small program would still need funding, and we don't have that." He took off his glasses and his eyes showed his disappointment.
Tessa knew how they could solve that problem. "Doctor, if I may…there is a possible source of funding. My family is a long-time supporter of the Chicago Hospital. Maybe they would be interested."
"Really?" Donovan straightened up in his seat.
"I can't guarantee it, but I can ask."
"That would be fantastic," Ellie said. "And I'd be happy to volunteer my time beyond my work hours and classes to help."
"Me too," Sarah said.
Encouraged, Donovan smiled, but then looked troubled again. "Even if we can get the program started, it won't help Ron. General Castile wants him released next week."
"That brute." The thought of that nasty man made Tessa angry all over again. "Doctor, he can't be serious. You can see Ron is not well. Do you have to release him?"
"We can't go against his family's wishes," Donovan said. "Ron doesn't have any physical injuries to justify us keeping him here. Unless we can convince the general to change his mind, my hands are tied."
Frustrated, Tessa tried to think of a solution. Any solution. She glanced around Donovan's office and noticed one of the articles about Arthur Hurst on the desk. The article had a black and white photo of Hurst filming one of his patients. "Maybe…" she said. Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to grasp the scheme forming in her head. "Maybe…if we can show the general that Ron really is sick. What if…," she picked up the article she was staring at, "what if we take photos of Ron when he is in a state of paralysis, like when he won't get up from the floor? Or maybe we can film him?" She looked at Donovan, Ellie, and Sarah. "What if we show him Ron does have physical problems? Ron says he can't walk, and it's true. He can't. Ever since that brute's visit, Ron's body has been all contorted every time he tries to walk. I've never seen anything like it. It's painful looking at him. If we can show Ron in his worst state, maybe we can persuade his father this is not a simple case of Ron being afraid and unwilling to fight."
Donovan reclined in his seat and considered the suggestion. "It's worth a try. We've got nothing to lose."
"Can we invite the general back to see for himself in person?" Sarah asked.
"After the awful confrontation they had yesterday?" Ellie asked. "It's probably not a good idea. We don't want to upset Ron again. It's better if we photograph him," Ellie said. "But how would we be able to film him?"
Tessa crossed her arms. If she was back in London, this would have been easy. Her father or someone in his theater troupe could easily arrange that. They knew people in the movie industry.
In the industry…She glanced over at Sarah. "Sarah! Your father works in advertising, doesn't he? Would he know anyone in advertising who has access to recording equipment?"
"I don't know," Sarah said. "He might. I'll ask him."
There was hope after all. "Tell him this is very important and ask him to inquire with as many people as he can until we can find someone who can help."
"Sure. I'll do my best."
They could do no more for now. Tessa prayed everything would work out. For better or for worse, she had taken it upon herself to help Ron. Because of that, she had become the only one he trusted. She felt responsible for him. Besides, he was a nice person. On his good days, he was always polite and respectful. A perfect gentleman. She couldn't imagine that only recently, he had been at war in combat. She didn't want him to remain in that dark place in his mind.
12
April 5, 1943
Dear Tessa,
This is the last letter I'll be writing to you from Camp Dover. Tomorrow, I'll be heading to the Officer Candidates School (the OCS) at Fort Benning, Georgia. I can't tell you how glad I am training camp is over. It was not the most pleasant experience for sure. I suppose war won't be a pleasant experience either, so maybe I better get used to misery being a permanent state of things. Still, I hope the OCS will be an improvement. I've been reading books on military strategies and battle tactics in my spare time. Being an army officer and leading a unit of men in war situations is a serious job. I've never done anything where people's lives depended on me. I want to be ready. I want to prove to myself that I can do this.
I got a three-day pass this past weekend. It was a godsend to be able to get away from training camp and back into the civilian world. I joined some fellas who also had passes and we hitched a ride into L.A. again. One of my deepest regrets about the OCS is that I won't be serving in the same unit with these guys when my training is over. We've formed a close bond at Camp Dover. When I complete my OCS training, they will have moved on, and I'll likely be assigned to another unit. Even if by chance we end up in the same unit, things wouldn't be the same because officers are not allowed to fraternize with enlisted soldiers, so this really was the last weekend I could spend with them.
Like last time, we went to see a movie and visited the USO Center for our free meals. We went to some bars too. (Some of them were Irish pubs like Murphy's and I wished you were there with me.) We were having a good time but one of the guys insisted there was a famous cocktail lounge that was the ultimate place to be. He heard movie stars go there and insisted we must go, so we went, except we never found the place. He either remembered the name of the place wrong or he got the streets and address confused. We walked around the streets for a long time looking for it but never found it. Eventually, it got very late and we went back to our hotel.
On Saturday night, the fellas decided to go to a dance club. I had never gone to dance clubs back in Chicago. It wasn't something my friends and I did. The closest I came to being in one was the time when I saw you at the Melody Mill. The dance club we went to was way bigger than the Melody Mill. There must have been a mass of over a thousand people inside and the place was very cramped. Everyone tried to dance but I couldn't even get through the crowd. I was squished every which way I turned. People spilled drinks all over each other and the music blasted so loud we had to scream at each other to be heard. There were many servicemen there, even some
foreign ones. Later on, one of our boys got very drunk and I had to leave to take him back because all the other guys were talking to girls (I didn't) and wanted to stay. That was all right. By then, I had had enough of the noise and the crowd.
Sunday we hung out at the USO center because the place was buzzing with rumor that Katharine Hepburn would come by for a surprise visit with the troops. She showed up early in the afternoon. It was quite something to see her. She was even more beautiful in person than in the movies, and she was very nice and gracious, signing autographed photos for all of us. It was a huge morale boost for everyone. In the end though, L.A. has a tad too much excitement and glamour for a Midwestern boy like me. I rather prefer the weekend I had when I came here four weeks ago, when I went to the beach. I thought about you, about us, when I looked at the ocean. The ocean was so beautiful. The world is a beautiful place. I can't wait for the day when we can put the world's worries aside, and you and I can be alone and listen to the ocean waves.
What I really wish is that the weekend passes could've been longer. Then I could come home and spend time with you instead.
I received all your letters from the last two weeks. Thanks for sending me photos of you too as I asked. Seeing you, Jack, Henry, and Ruby at Marconi's made me very hungry for Italian beef! I'm so envious.
But will you please send me a pocket size photo of you alone like I've been asking? Otherwise, I'll have to cut out everyone else from one of the photos you sent me just so I can have a picture of you to keep in my pocket.
How is everything going for you at the hospital? You never tell me anything about your work. I hope it's not because the work is too much for you. Take care of yourself. Don't work too hard.
I love you and miss you.
— Love, Anthony
Alone in her room late at night, Tessa kissed the letter she received from Anthony and read parts of it again. He always asked her about her work, but her work was the last thing she wanted to talk about with him. Why tell him all the horrible injuries her patients had suffered? It would only remind him of the dangers he might face. Besides, there was her plan to complete her specialized training to serve overseas. She wasn't about to tell him she was doing that.
