Saving Dr Gregory

His face went taut with anger, and he stood up and paced around the room, waves of rage pouring off him almost visibly.

‘How could he do that to her? How could anyone say that to another human being? God, Polly, I wouldn’t treat my dog like that!’

‘Do you think she needs anti-depressants?’

He stopped pacing and turned to face her. ‘Could be. I’ll prescribe some for her if I think she does, just to take the edge off, and only for a few days, and then I think we need to talk about reconstructive surgery—I can think of some surgery I’d like to do to him!’

Polly smiled, and then her smile faded as she remembered Mrs Robinson. ‘Do you think he needs help too? Perhaps no one has given his feelings any consideration, or given him an opportunity to grieve. If they didn’t have any professional counselling during the time of her illness, then it’s not surprising that they can’t cope with it.’

‘I would have thought all that had been done at the time,’ Matt said, surprised, and shook his head. ‘We are much more aware now than we used to be about the emotional effects of radical surgery, I think. Polly, see if you can get them to go along for counselling. I’ve got the address somewhere of the Breast Care and Mastectomy Association—it’s a charity, but the work they do is excellent. The head office is in London, but I think there’s a branch in Cambridge. They’re very good with this sort of thing, and if the Robinsons’s marriage is salvageable, they’ll probably find a way.’

She nodded. ‘Are you going to come and have a chat to her?’

‘Yes. Would you mind making some coffee, and then come and join us? I think I’ll make more progress if you’re there, somehow.’

By the time Polly had made the coffee and gone back to her room, Matt was in there with Mrs Robinson, holding her hand and smoothing the skin on the back with an age-old gesture of sympathy.

‘But how would you feel if it were your wife?’ Mrs Robinson asked, pulling her hand away.

Matt straightened up. ‘I can’t tell you, Mrs Robinson, and that isn’t really the issue here. How your husband feels is what’s affecting you, and I think, and Polly agrees, that he’s probably very distressed and unable to cope with his feelings. I think counselling could help you, if you want help. You don’t both have to go, but of course it would help if you did.’

She lifted her head. ‘What about reconstructive surgery?’

‘Mammoplasty? It’s usually done sooner. What they would do in your case, I suspect, is make a small incision in the skin and insert a silicone implant to help to balance the other breast, and they can create a nipple if necessary using pigmented tissue from elsewhere. Results are variable; usually physically very successful, but it isn’t going to cure your marriage problems or make you the way you were before. It’s become quite common to do it at the time of the first operation, to reduce the kind of emotional stress that you’ve been through. In fact, I’m surprised you weren’t offered it at the time. Results after this length of time, though, may not be so successful.’

‘What do you think are the chances of it working?’

‘Depends on the level of residual scarring, shrinkage of the skin and so on due to radiotherapy, and how much was removed. Also the size of the other breast—it’s much harder to get a satisfactory result with women who are more well-endowed. I can’t really tell you much more without examining you.’

She seemed to shrink into herself, but Polly wasn’t about to allow it. Squatting down beside her, she took her other hand and squeezed it. ‘I’ll be here with you. If Dr Gregory thinks you would be a suitable candidate for surgery, then if you decide that’s what you want, he can refer you and get the process under way. Don’t give up now.’

There was a long, painful silence, and then she took a deep breath and nodded.

Matt let out his breath in a silent sigh of relief, and stood up.

‘Polly, perhaps you could help Mrs Robinson undress?’ he said, moving over to the sink to wash his hands under the hot tap.

Polly watched him out of the corner of her eye, and saw him pick up gloves, look at them and then replace them on the shelf.

‘OK, let’s have a look,’ he said, returning to the couch with a smile. Mrs Robinson turned her head to the side, but Matt ignored her indrawn breath as he folded down the blanket and laid his hands gently on her chest above the breast, working slowly and steadily across it with a gentle, even pressure. When he had finished, he pulled the blanket up over her and tucked it round her shoulders, to restore her dignity.

The skin seems fairly elastic, and because of the amount of tissue that’s been removed it’s obviously much smaller than the other one, but luckily your nipple wasn’t removed. I think you might get away with it, especially if the surgeon reduced the size of the other breast as well. It could be worth a try, if you want. OK, Polly, would you help Mrs Robinson dress?’

He turned away and busied himself with the notes, as much to give her privacy as anything, and Polly smiled reassuringly at the woman.

‘What would you do, Polly?’ she asked.

Polly shot Matt a quick look, and gave a small shrug. ‘I don’t know. Get counselling first, I think. You really don’t look that bad to me. There are plenty of women who are naturally that lop-sided without surgical intervention.’

‘But I’m mutilated——’

‘No!’ Polly and Matt both spoke at once, and Matt continued, ‘You are far from mutilated. There’s nothing off-putting about your appearance. Believe me, I’ve seen far, far worse. I don’t think you need reconstructive surgery, and if you were my wife I’d move heaven and earth to prevent you going through any more suffering. What you need is help to come to terms with who you are now, both inside and out. Surgery will change the outside, but the inside is far more badly hurt, Helen. You need to learn to love yourself again. Of course I’ll refer you if that’s what you want, but please try the counselling.’

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Polly laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

Matt continued, ‘I’d like to see your husband, as well, if you can talk him into coming to see me.’

‘He won’t come. He doesn’t care.’

Matt smiled at her, tenderly and with great sympathy. ‘Are you sure? Please ask him. If he really didn’t care about you, why is he still with you after seven years?’

Matt patted her hand and stood up. ‘Polly, have you done a smear?’

She shook her head. ‘Perhaps Mrs Robinson would like to come back later in the week and we’ll finish off the tests and things? I think you’ve probably had enough for now, haven’t you?’

She nodded. ‘I think I’d like to go home and have a bath and an early night. My husband’s away until tomorrow, so there’s no need for me to stay up. I’ve got a lot to think about.’

She took Polly’s hand. ‘Thank you for being so kind to me.’

‘Oh, Mrs Robinson,’ Polly said with a slight smile, ‘you’re welcome. I’m always here—come and have a chat if you need to. Don’t bottle things up—if you need an answer, come and ask one of us. That’s what we’re for.’

Polly showed her to the door, and turned to find Matt watching her from the doorway of her surgery.

‘Well done,’ he said quietly, and Polly burst into tears.

‘Oh, Matt,’ she whispered, ‘why are we so horrible to each other?’

He handed her a tissue and stood patiently beside her while she blew her nose and pulled herself together, then he waited while she found her bag and put on her coat, and locked the surgery behind them.

‘Supper,’ he said, and with a wink, he hobbled over to his car and climbed in. ‘Can you remember the way?’

Polly nodded. ‘I’ll see you back there.’

As she followed his Volvo estate out of the car park, she thought it was typical that he would have a car like that—big, solid, reliable, safe—just like him. Husband material, she thought again, with a heavy sigh. She wondered what his wife was like.

‘She’d better damn well deserve him,’ Polly thought with a protective urge, and then laughed, a little weakly. She realised that her laugh was just a short step from tears.

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