Unbegotten Child Page 2
persistence of Nature herself.
"In a fit of prolonged depression brought on by a foolishly strenuousresearch of histories, my mind stumbled into a stupid preoccupationwith a few isolated cases of exogenic pregnancy. One which fascinatedme was the young 17-year-old boy from whose lung a surgeon removed alive three-month foetus. Somehow the obvious explanation refused tosatisfy me. It was, of course, concluded that the foetus was anundeveloped twin to the boy himself.
"This _could_ be so; but on what facts was this assumption based?None. Only the absence of any other theory justified the concept. Thesurgeon had expected to find a hard carcinoma.
"And it came to me suddenly that _he had found his cancer_!
"My interpolation was this: Mankind is suffering an evolutionarychange in his reproductive procedure. The high incidence of varioustumors evidences Nature's experiments in developing a asexualreproduction."
* * * * *
Sansome's statement so flabbergasted me that I looked at him for signsof facetiousness or irrationality. His extreme fatigue wasevident--but his calmness and clarity of self-expression in a foreignlanguage indicated no mental confusion. A hoax of such magnitude wasoutside the realm of possibility for a surgeon of his distinction.
The man was simply following a blind alley of reasoning, set off byhis life-long frustration of battling cancer.
I mustered my patience and drew him out, hoping he would find acontradiction in his own theory.
"This is a rather staggering notion, Dr. Sansome," I said. "Have youbeen able to support it with--additional evidence?"
"Until Miss Caffey," he said, "frankly, no. Not the kind of evidencethat is acceptable. But the theory has much to defend it. In your ownJournal of the A. M. A., May 7, 1932, Dr. Maud Slye published thefirst solid evidence that predisposition to so-called malignant tumoris hereditary. Is this not a better characteristic of a true mutation,rather than of a disease?"
"Perhaps," I said. "But how does Mother Nature justify thedesirability of a change from our present rather successful bisexualsystem? And isn't she being rather cruel in her methods? Think of themillions she has made suffer in her experiments."
"Mother Nature," Sansome pronounced positively, "is neither kind norcruel. She is manifestly indifferent to all but the goal of survivalof the species. Our civilization has set out to thwart her withincreasingly more effective methods of birth-control. In the light ofsurvival, Nature is most justified in trying to bring millions offrustrated, childless humans to parenthood.
* * * * *
"Meanwhile," he said, riffling the case history of Sara Caffey, "letus examine the evidence at hand. Our patient arrived in Parispositively cancerous. After confirming the diagnosis, I proposed anunprecedented treatment based on my theory. We know several bodyconditions which promote the rapid development of carcinoma, such asexcess alkalinity and high blood sugar content and so forth. Insteadof trying to reduce these and fight the tumor, I reversed thetreatment and aided Miss Caffey's body to support and encourage itsgrowth to what I predicted would be a new maturity.
"And what happened?" He threw up his hands. "In two months, thetendrils of the octopus withdrew into the central body of the tumor.The tendency to spread in search for attenuated nourishment wasreversed with the treatment. This alone was an accomplishment, for itwould have made the growth operable in a short time.
"Unfortunately, word of my unorthodox prescription reached a jealouscolleague, and he set off such a quarrel at the Institute that MissCaffey packed up and left with the generous misconception that she wassaving me from embarrassment. I had no opportunity to assure her thatthe Cancer Institute would decide ultimately in my favor--which itshall when I return with a photostat of a certain birth certificate."
He smiled for the first time, and his charm was so powerful that Isincerely wanted to believe in him. I could see no use in denying himhis request, for his prescriptions were of an innocuous nature for anormally pregnant woman such as Sara Caffey. I trusted that a normalbirth of a typical baby would finally dissuade him.
I extended my hand again. "You are most welcome to stay with us,doctor," I told him. "The treatment you desire is within reason, and Iadmire your tenacity with your theory. I hope you will forgive me,however, if I say that I find your premises rather tenuous. I feelthat we will witness a very normal birth, and ultimately Miss Caffeywill find it to her peace of mind to confess a secret marriage, or, atmost--an alliance of which she may be pathologically ashamed at themoment."
Sansome grasped my hand with enthusiasm. "_Bien! Tres bien!_" heexclaimed. "This is more generous even than I expected. Certainly I donot expect a scientist of your station to swallow my theory at a gulp,Dr. Foley. I will admit that my persistence depends more than itshould on intuition. But we shall see. I am grateful to you." And hekissed me firmly on each cheek.
* * * * *
A study of Sansome's carefully prepared case history on Sara Caffeydid disturb me a little. I ordered a thorough reexamination, and wasleft with some puzzling conclusions at the apparent absence oftumorous growth, malignant or otherwise.
Sara was enduring most of the classic symptoms of typical pregnancy,and was enjoying Dr. Sansome's treatment hugely. She guzzled thealkaline-producing fruit juices, fortified with carefully rationeddribbles of gin. She nibbled contentedly at the sweets which theFrenchman supplied anonymously. And she raised merry hell because werefused to operate.
After two weeks, she threatened to leave. I was paged over the P. A.and got to her room in time to catch her trying to zip up her skirt.
She looked at me impatiently, and then back to her abdomen. "Damnedthing's getting out of hand."
She had on an expensive tweed suit, and the smart, powder-bluecashmere coat I helped her into made her look her role ofdistinguished world traveler, syndicated columnist and woman of parts.
She hunched her shoulders forward slightly, so the loose folds of thecoat concealed her protruding middle.
"Thanks," she said casually. "I'll write you a check and be on myway."
"Dr. Sansome will be disappointed," I said casually.
"You heard from him?" she asked with interest.
I nodded.
She put her hands on her hips. "And you still persist with yourfatuous idea that I'm going to have a baby?"
"Let us say," I evaded, "that we have adopted Dr. Sansome's treatmenton a wait-and-see basis. You said yourself that he refused to operate.We have definitely confirmed that much. Your condition is stillinoperable, but you are coming along fine."
"Well, now, why didn't you tell me that before." She threw off hercoat and relieved the pressure of her waist zipper with a gratefulsigh. "Now you're making sense. Send out for another Spillane. I'll goalong with that. But no more of this drivel about transferring me tothe maternity ward, see?"
* * * * *
Ten nights later, she changed her mind. I passed her room after a lateemergency case. The door was open and I heard her crying softly toherself. I stopped in. Her bed lamp was on, and for a change shelooked all woman.
I felt her pulse and asked, "What's the matter, Sara?"
"I'm going to have a baby!" she sobbed. "I've been feeling somethingpeculiar for some time. But tonight it kicked the hell out of me."
"Want to talk about it?" I asked, still holding her wrist.
She looked at me with genuine bafflement in her eyes. Her face waspuckered up like a hurt child's. "But it's so impossible, doctor. I'msorry I talked to you the way I have, but so help me, I'm a goodgirl."
I almost said, _Well, these things happen_, but that would havesounded pretty silly. It was evident that she still wouldn't admiteven to herself how and when it had happened.
"Ever go on a good binge?" I suggested.
"Not since I was sixteen," she exclaimed. "But I could use one rightnow. No, that might hurt the baby." She folded her arms protectivelyaround her middle. "I
don't get it. I don't get it at all. But ifthat's the way it is--" A crooked, pleased smile wrinkled tears fromher cheeks. "Leave it to Sary to do things the unusual way."
She looked up at me. "Did you know I was the first white woman tointerview a Rajah's harem eunuch?"
"Looks like you have a real story this time," I said, playing alongwith her.
"Yeah. But who in hell will write it?"
* * * * *
Phillipe Sansome made himself eminently useful. He assisted in surgeryevery morning, refusing fees and pleading with everyone to maintainhis anonymity. The staff was in on the conspiracy, and the nursessmiled indulgently