Weighed in the balance - Anne Perry [70]
“Can’t you do … anything?” Bernd demanded. “Perhaps a colleague? I don’t mean to insult you, but if we were to try another opinion? A surgeon? Now that you can anesthetize a person while you operate, surely you can … can mend what is broken? I—” He stopped.
Dagmar had moved closer to him, was holding on to his arm more tightly.
“It is not broken bones,” the doctor said as calmly as he was able. “It is the nerves which give feeling.”
“Then can’t he walk without feeling?” Bernd demanded. “He can learn! I’ve known men with dead legs who managed to walk!” His face was growing dark with pain and anger at his own helplessness. He could not bear to believe what was being said. “It will take time, but we shall accomplish it!”
“No.” Hester spoke for the first time.
He glared at her. “Thank you for your opinion, Miss Latterly, but at this time it is not appropriate. I will not give up hope for my son!” His voice broke, and he took refuge in anger. “Your place is to nurse him. You are not a doctor! You will please not venture medical opinions which are beyond your knowledge.”
Dagmar winced as if she had been hit.
The doctor opened his mouth and then did not know what to say.
“It is not a medical opinion,” Hester said gravely. “I have watched many men come to terms with the fact that an injury will not heal. Once they have accepted the truth, it is not a kindness to hold out a hope which cannot be realized. It is, in fact, making them carry your burden as well as their own.”
“How dare you!” he said. “Your impertinence is intolerable! I shall—”
“It is not impertinence, Bernd,” Dagmar interrupted him, touching his hand with hers even as she clung to him. “She is trying to help us to do what is best for Robert. If he will not walk again, it is kinder for us not to pretend that somehow he will.”
He moved away, taking his arm from her grasp. In rejecting her he was also rejecting what she had said.
“Are you prepared to give up so easily? Well, I shall never give up! He is my son … I cannot give up!” He turned away to hide the emotion twisting his features.
Dagmar turned to Hester, her face bruised with pain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to control herself. “He doesn’t mean it. I know you are saying what is best for Robert. We must face the truth, if that is what it is. Will you help me to tell him, please?”
“Of course.” Hester nearly offered to do it for her, if she wished, then realized that if she did, afterwards Dagmar would feel as if she had let her son down out of her own weakness. It was necessary for Dagmar, whether it was for Robert or for her own peace of mind, to tell him herself.
Together they moved towards the door, and the doctor turned to follow them.
Bernd swung around as though to speak, then changed his mind. He knew his own emotions would only make it harder.
Upstairs, Dagmar knocked at Robert’s door, and when she heard his voice, pushed the door open and went in, Hester behind her.
Robert was sitting up as usual, but his face was very white.
Dagmar stopped.
Hester ached to say it for her. She choked back the impulse, her throat tight.
Robert stared at Dagmar. For a moment there was hope in his eyes, then only fear.
“I’m sorry, my darling,” Dagmar began, her words husky with tears. “It will not get better. We must plan what we can do as it is.”
Robert opened his mouth, then clenched his hands and gazed at her in silence. For a moment it was beyond him to speak.
Dagmar took a step forward, then changed her mind.
Hester knew that nothing she could say would help. For the moment the pain was all-consuming. It would have to change, almost certainly be in part replaced by anger, at least for a while, then perhaps despair, self-pity, and finally acceptance, before the beginning of adjustment.
Dagmar moved forward again and sat down on the edge of the bed. She took Robert’s hand in hers and held it. He tightened his grip, as if all his mind and his will were in that one part of him. His eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.
Hester