QB VII (44 page)

“I did.”

“And in your expert opinion, would you qualify Dr. Boland as also distinguished in the field?”

“Yes.”

“You heard him testify that he himself had received two spinals for surgery done on him and both were given without morphia. He also testified that in the question of premedication it made little difference to the comfort of the patient.”

“Yes, that was his testimony.”

“Would you comment?”

“Well, your own client, Dr. Kelno, would disagree with Dr. Boland, would he not? And I certainly disagree.”

“But you do agree that in England in 1967 there are two different opinions about this from qualified anesthesiologists.”

“Well, he has his views.”

“Different from yours.”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Boland goes on to testify that properly given with a sharp needle a spinal causes very little discomfort. What do you say to that?”

“There is a possibility if given under absolutely perfect conditions.”

“In the hands of a skilled surgeon doing it quickly.”

“As a matter of fact, Sir Robert, it must be done slowly. One must feel his way through delicate ground. On occasion it has taken me ten minutes and there are a number of occasions where experts have failed.”

“You were asked a number of hypothetical questions about surgery in Jadwiga. If you were a surgeon at Jadwiga under pressing circumstances and had no anesthetist or someone trained in giving a general, it would make sense to give a spinal, would it not. What I mean is that a surgeon can’t do two things at once, can he? He can’t operate at the same time he’s giving an anesthetic.”

“The way you phrase it.”

“And while he is operating he just can’t put ether or chloroform in the hands of an unskilled assistant?”

“You’re quite right that he needs a skilled assistant to give a general.”

“A spinal produces good operating conditions for a surgeon, does it not?”

“Yes.”

“Particularly if a surgeon is pressed and harassed.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you practice in 1940 to 1941?”

“Royal Air Force.”

“In England?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact I recall administering anesthetic to one of the defendants after his plane crashed.”

“Conditions weren’t like those in Jadwiga, were they?”

“No.”

“But even in England in those years Dr. Boland administered spinal anesthetic without pre-morphia. Does that surprise you?”

“No, but it makes me wince.”

“So what we have here is expert testimony of two anesthesiologists which is diametrically opposed. Two differences of opinion, both of which are right.”

As Highsmith seated himself, O’Conner thumbed through a book he had among his papers. He asked the usher to give a copy to Sir Robert and a copy to Mr. Marwick.

“Before we go into this work written by Dr. Boland,” O’Conner said, “you heard and read testimony by Dr. Kelno that he was short of trained assistants and for that chief reason he made the choice of a spinal and administered it himself.”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“You also heard or read testimony by Dr. Lotaki that he assisted Dr. Kelno in a number of these operations.”

“Yes.”

“In your opinion, from Dr. Lotaki’s background, would he be qualified to administer a general to keep a patient unconscious during an operation?”

“Dr. Lotaki is fully qualified.”

“Then the excuse that he didn’t have a skilled assistant isn’t a valid reason.”

For the first time in the trial, Sir Robert Highsmith found himself glaring at Adam Kelno. Was it a bald lie or an oversight in all the testimony, he wondered.

O’Conner opened the book. “This work of Dr. Boland was published in the year of 1942 and entitled,
New Advancements in the Field of Anesthesia
.”

“I find all of this rather strange,” Highsmith said, “that none of this was put to Dr. Boland when he was in the witness box.”

“With respect to my learned friend,”O’Conner said, “we had no intention of reading all the books ever written by anesthetists in England, and we had no idea Dr. Boland was going to be called for the plaintiff. If you had said so beforehand, then we would have brought this into court at that time.”

“Well, I don’t think it proper to put to Mr. Marwick something Dr. Boland wrote and cannot answer for himself.”

“You can recall Dr. Boland to the stand if you wish, Sir Robert,” the judge said. “We won’t deny you that.”

Highsmith slumped down.

“I call your attention to page two hundred and fifty-four, paragraph three and I read. ‘Local anesthesia such as a spinal should never,’ I repeat, ‘never be applied indiscriminately and without preparing the patient psychologically or it could result in psychic shock and actual insanity has been known to occur.’ He states further down the page, ‘in the case of an extremely nervous or frightened patient the choice of a general anesthetic should be given. If, however, the surgeon deems a spinal more suitable then a premedication by morphia of one and a fourth grain would be in order.’ What I am saying is that in the circumstances we have described you and Dr. Boland are not diametrically opposed at all.”

“We are completely of the same mind,” Mr. Marwick said.

23

A
NGELA HELD THE CURTAIN
back and peeked outside. They were both there, across the street, a plainclothesman from Scotland Yard and a private detective hired by the Polish Association to guard the house. All phone calls were now screened in the central office.

After the first several days of the trial there were threats and obscenities over the phone, followed by vicious letters and personal visits of people venting their hatred of Adam Kelno.

Scotland Yard assured them it would all die down in due course when the trial was done. Angela, who kept the family spirits up, insisted they leave immediately on a world cruise of a year and then relocate in the anonymity of a small town.

The strain had ground Adam down, and he did not protest the plan. It would be only a matter of a few years when Stephan would have an architect’s degree. They could think about retirement. He had to abandon the idea of having Terrence Campbell take over his medical practice. But Sir Adam knew in his heart that Terrence wanted to go back to Sarawak, to his own father, and practice missionary medicine.

Although Adam appeared emotionless in court Angela did her sleeping these nights with one eye open, ready to help him from the terror of the recurring nightmares and to calm his fitful sleep.

They all picked at their dinner, disheartened that it was impossible for Stephan to get back to England.

“How much longer do they think it’s going to go on, Doctor?” Terry asked.

“Another week or ten days.”

“It will be over soon enough,” Angela said, “and we’re going to get through it much better if we eat.”

“I suppose there’s all kinds of talk at Guy’s.”

“You know how those things are,” Terry answered.

“What do they say?”

“Quite frankly, I haven’t got time to listen if I expect to do my work. Mary and I have split up, and I think it’s rather final.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Angela said.

“No you’re not. Anyhow, I should like to remain here with you, now that we all know Stephan can’t come.”

“Well, you know how happy that makes us,” Angela said.

“What happened between you and Mary?” Adam asked.

“Nothing really,” he lied. “We just found that being away from each other gave us a lot more freedom.” Terry did not want to add to the burden he had helped create by telling them Mary had some doubts about Dr. Kelno and Terry had stormed out in anger.

The doorbell rang. They could hear Mrs. Corkory, the housekeeper, speaking to someone in the vestibule. “Beg pardon,” Mrs. Corkory said, “but Mr. Lowry and Mrs. Meyrick are here on a matter they feel quite important.”

“Are they ill?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well, show them into the parlor.” Lowry, a stocky baker, and Mrs. Meyrick, the housewife of a warehouseman, came to their feet awkwardly as the Kelnos entered.

“Evening, Doctor,” Mr. Lowry said. “I hope you’ll excuse the interruption. Dr. Kelno, we’ve been talking among ourselves.”

“Your patients, that is,” Mrs. Meyrick interrupted. “Well, anyhow, we want you to know we’re with you one million percent.”

“That pleases me a great deal.”

“We are highly incensed, we are, at the lies they’re trying to pin on you,” Mr. Lowry continued, “and we feel it’s all part of a bloody, beg your pardon, all part of a Communist plot.”

“At any rate, Doctor,” Mrs. Meyrick said, “we’ve written you this letter of our loyalty and support and went about to everyone collecting their signatures, even the little ones. Here, sir.”

Adam took the letter and thanked them again. After they left he opened it and read it:
WE THE UNDERSIGNED EXPRESS OUR HIGH ESTEEM TO SIR ADAM KELNO WHO HAS BEEN GRAVELY MALIGNED. HE HAS TREATED US WITH GREAT CONSIDERATION AND NEVER TURNED A SICK PERSON AWAY FROM HIS DOOR. THIS DOCUMENT IS AN INADEQUATE TOKEN OF OUR AFFECTION.

There were three pages of signatures, some barely legible, some printed, some obviously of children.

“That was a lovely gesture,” Angela said “Aren’t you pleased?”

“Yes,” Adam said, but he read the names over again. Many patients had not signed and the signatures of all his Jewish patients were missing.

24

A
N INSTANTANEOUS MURMUR OF
anticipation swept the court as Professor Oliver Lighthall was called to the stand. Everyone looked attentively as the man whom many considered England’s foremost gynecologist ascended to the witness box. He was tailored but disheveled in a studious way. He had made his adamant decision to testify against a great deal of pressure from a segment of his colleagues.

“This testimony, of course shall be in English,” Tom Bannister said. “Would you give us your name and address?”

“Oliver Leigh Lighthall. I reside and practice at 2 Cavendish Square in London.”

“You are a doctor of medicine, a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, a Fellow of the Royal College of Obstetrics and Gynecology for the University of London, Cambridge and Wales, and for two decades Director of Obstetrics at the University College Hospital.”

“That is all correct.”

“How long have you practiced in your field?”

“Over forty years.”

“Professor Lighthall. If an ovary is irradiated is there any medical benefit whatsoever to remove it by surgery.”

“Absolutely none.”

“Well, isn’t an irradiated ovary or testicle often dead?”

“In so far as its physiological function. For example, the ovary is no longer able to produce eggs nor can the testicle produce sperm.”

“Well doesn’t this occur also to a woman when she experiences change of life and often to a man who has undergone certain illnesses?”

“Yes, an ovary ceases to function after menopause, and illness can cause the cessation of male sperm.”

“But you don’t go about cutting women’s ovaries out just because they’ve undergone the change of life?”

“No, of course not.”

Arrogant bastard, Adam Kelno thought, arrogant English bastard in his snob clinic on Cavendish Square. O’Conner passed a note back to Shawcross and Cady:
WATCH FOR LIGHTNING TO STRIKE
.

“Were there two schools of thought about removal of an ovary that had ceased to function in 1943?”

“Only one school.”

“Aren’t X-rays, in fact, used to cure cancer?”

“Certain types of cancer will respond to X-ray treatment.”

“Heavy dosages.”

“Yes.”

“And the same goes for a cancerous testicle.”

“Yes, they receive X-ray treatment.”

“Professor Lighthall, it has been suggested that in 1943 it was possible that irradiation of testicles and ovaries could produce cancer. What is your view?”

“That’s utter nonsense, poppycock, bordering on the hocus-pocus of a tribal medicine man.”

Adam Kelno flinched. Oliver Lighthall had thrown up at him his own struggle with the fakirs of Sarawak. Behind his English calm, Lighthall was obviously incensed and was not holding back.

“Now, if one was conducting an experiment to see if a testicle is still potent would that testicle be of any use if it were removed by an unqualified operator?”

“If the tissue is to be later examined in a laboratory it is essential that it be removed by a capable surgeon.”

“So that a doctor threatening to use an unskilled SS orderly would more than likely be bluffing for he’d defeat his own purposes.”

“Some things are so logical they need not be argued. I have read the testimony and Voss had no intention of allowing an SS orderly to perform these operations.”

Highsmith started to his feet, stopped midway and seated himself again.

“Have you examined the four women who gave testimony in his case?”

“I have.”

The blood rushed from Adam Kelno’s face. Highsmith was once again fixed on his client, trying desperately to glue a passive expression to his face.

“If these women had been exposed to irradiation for a period of five to ten minutes, a surgeon would have been able to see evidence of it, burn marks, blisters perhaps, infection.”

“Some of their burns are visible today,” Lighthall answered.

“Twenty-four years later?”

“In the cases I examined the pigmentation of the skin will remain for the rest of their lives.”

“Well now, if a surgeon sees such burns a short time after the irradiation, would he take the view that an ovary should be removed?”

“I should think quite strongly to the contrary. He would run all sorts of grave risks.”

“Now, Professor Lighthall, in carrying out an ovariectomy in England which is done with a spinal, is it usual to strap the patient to the operating table?”

“Most unusual procedure. Well, one might strap the arms only.”

Adam felt as though his chest were going to burst. A severe pain knifed from his chest to his stomach. He fumbled for a pill and took it as anonymously as possible.

“Not common practice?”

“No. The patient is paralyzed by the injection.”