option.’
‘But if it is the only means of saving the mother and her child, surely it is better to take that risk than to stand by and –’
‘Paul, Paul, your ardour does you credit,’ Alfred told him sombrely, coming round his desk to place a consoling arm about the younger man’s shoulders, ‘but I fear you are permitting your emotions to overrule your judgement, and that is something no physician should allow to happen.’
Bewildered, Paul watched him. His own father had been as loath to acknowledge the potential benefit of performing a Caesarean delivery as his prospective father-in-law was.
Caesarean deliveries were performed, of course, when the mother’s life was agreed to be of less value than that of the child she was carrying, or where a choice had to be made between mother and child, but to perform one where both mother and child were expected to survive was a dangerous medical procedure. And yet the operation had been done – and successfully. It was Paul’s dream that one day such operations would be a matter of course, and that he would be performing them; that he would be at the forefront of his profession, not content, as his father was, to rest on his reputation and accept a knighthood, but to push back the medical barriers as far as they could possibly go; to conquer the perils of infection, surgical trauma and blood loss.
Reluctant to abandon his dream he burst out, ‘Perhaps if Mrs Pride were to be consulted…If she were told, offered the choice…’
Alfred looked outraged. ‘How can you suggest such a thing? No! Poor woman, she already has enough to bear. She should be left at peace now, to compose herself for what lies ahead. That is our most solemn duty and responsibility to her.’
‘But surely, sir, our first and foremost duty is to try to save her life and that of her child,’ Paul insisted doggedly.
‘Do you think that I am not aware of that? Lydia Pride is not just my patient, she is also my wife’s sister,’ Alfred reminded Paul sternly. ‘And, besides, I am not convinced that such an operation, even if it were successful in saving the child, could save her. She should never have conceived again. It was only by good fortune that she was spared last time.’
Paul took a deep breath before asking, ‘Then would it not perhaps have been better for the pregnancy to be terminated in its early stages?’
The words fell into a heavy silence that suddenly filled the room. Alfred’s face grew stern. ‘I shall pretend that you did not utter that remark, Paul.’ When Paul said nothing, Alfred burst out angrily, ‘You know as well as I do that such a course of action is against the law.’
‘Yes I do, which is why women, poor creatures, are forced to resort to the desperate measure of paying some filthy harridan to maim and murder them.’
‘I will not listen to this, Paul. You are not talkingabout our own womenfolk here but a class of women you should know better than to discuss. If a woman has a need to resort to…to the solution you have just allowed to soil your lips, then it is because she herself has sinned and is seeking to hide that sin from the world and escape her just punishment for it!’
Paul gritted his teeth. The older man was only echoing the view shared by his own father, he knew, but it was a view that Paul himself did not find either acceptable or honest, never mind worthy of his Hippocratic oath. It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Alfred that, far from sinning, Lydia Pride had been an admirably dutiful wife, but he could see from the florid, bellicose expression on Alfred’s face that such an argument was not likely to find favour.
‘I have done my best for Lydia. I –’ Alfred coughed and looked embarrassed, ‘– I have discussed with Robert the…benefits of, ahem, not completing the…the act…’
‘But there are far more modern and reliable ways of preventing conception than that,’ Paul burst out, unable to contain
‘But if it is the only means of saving the mother and her child, surely it is better to take that risk than to stand by and –’
‘Paul, Paul, your ardour does you credit,’ Alfred told him sombrely, coming round his desk to place a consoling arm about the younger man’s shoulders, ‘but I fear you are permitting your emotions to overrule your judgement, and that is something no physician should allow to happen.’
Bewildered, Paul watched him. His own father had been as loath to acknowledge the potential benefit of performing a Caesarean delivery as his prospective father-in-law was.
Caesarean deliveries were performed, of course, when the mother’s life was agreed to be of less value than that of the child she was carrying, or where a choice had to be made between mother and child, but to perform one where both mother and child were expected to survive was a dangerous medical procedure. And yet the operation had been done – and successfully. It was Paul’s dream that one day such operations would be a matter of course, and that he would be performing them; that he would be at the forefront of his profession, not content, as his father was, to rest on his reputation and accept a knighthood, but to push back the medical barriers as far as they could possibly go; to conquer the perils of infection, surgical trauma and blood loss.
Reluctant to abandon his dream he burst out, ‘Perhaps if Mrs Pride were to be consulted…If she were told, offered the choice…’
Alfred looked outraged. ‘How can you suggest such a thing? No! Poor woman, she already has enough to bear. She should be left at peace now, to compose herself for what lies ahead. That is our most solemn duty and responsibility to her.’
‘But surely, sir, our first and foremost duty is to try to save her life and that of her child,’ Paul insisted doggedly.
‘Do you think that I am not aware of that? Lydia Pride is not just my patient, she is also my wife’s sister,’ Alfred reminded Paul sternly. ‘And, besides, I am not convinced that such an operation, even if it were successful in saving the child, could save her. She should never have conceived again. It was only by good fortune that she was spared last time.’
Paul took a deep breath before asking, ‘Then would it not perhaps have been better for the pregnancy to be terminated in its early stages?’
The words fell into a heavy silence that suddenly filled the room. Alfred’s face grew stern. ‘I shall pretend that you did not utter that remark, Paul.’ When Paul said nothing, Alfred burst out angrily, ‘You know as well as I do that such a course of action is against the law.’
‘Yes I do, which is why women, poor creatures, are forced to resort to the desperate measure of paying some filthy harridan to maim and murder them.’
‘I will not listen to this, Paul. You are not talkingabout our own womenfolk here but a class of women you should know better than to discuss. If a woman has a need to resort to…to the solution you have just allowed to soil your lips, then it is because she herself has sinned and is seeking to hide that sin from the world and escape her just punishment for it!’
Paul gritted his teeth. The older man was only echoing the view shared by his own father, he knew, but it was a view that Paul himself did not find either acceptable or honest, never mind worthy of his Hippocratic oath. It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Alfred that, far from sinning, Lydia Pride had been an admirably dutiful wife, but he could see from the florid, bellicose expression on Alfred’s face that such an argument was not likely to find favour.
‘I have done my best for Lydia. I –’ Alfred coughed and looked embarrassed, ‘– I have discussed with Robert the…benefits of, ahem, not completing the…the act…’
‘But there are far more modern and reliable ways of preventing conception than that,’ Paul burst out, unable to contain
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