The Medea Complex

by Rachel Florence Roberts

  Will he?

  Will she?

  'I did it because I love my child. Wouldn't any mother care to do the same? I didn't feel guilty when the blood ran over my hands, yet neither did I feel vindicated. I just felt I had protected my child in the only way I knew how.'

  Backside Of A Horse

  Anne

  March 20th, 1886

  Royal Bethlem Hospital

  "Argh!"I yell at Fat Ruth. "Why don't you put your own filthy, stinking backside of a horse in here instead? Argh!"My head is dunked again, and the coldness of the water numbs both my skin and my senses. Her fat hands release my head, and I splutter at the surface, enraged. How dare she instigate such cruel treatment, against anyone, for any reason? "What exactly are you trying to do, kill me?"I scream.

  "How I would love to Anne, but no, I'm not. This is a treatment for crazy people, and will restore you to sanity. Plus, I remember well you pouring your filth over me, and I think a girl such as you needs to learn some cleanliness."I am dunked once more. Underneath the frigid water all sound disappears, apart from the heartbeat pounding in my ears. Dear lord, how is this supposed to make anybody well? The coldness turns into a thousand hot pins, pricking my skin all over.

  "This is enough to make a sane person insane!"I yell when the pressure on my head is relieved for mere seconds. "You fat, fiendish elephant!" Back under I go. I don’t know how many times this happens, nor do I have any sense of how long I am kept in the ice cold water. Long enough for me to start daydreaming, I can feel my grasp on consciousness ebbing. I’m drowning. The white glazed tiles covering the walls start to turn grey and fuzzy.

  Hands grab me, lift me, and start rubbing me roughly with a towel. "This towel stinks!"I manage to shout, but my voice is muffled by another towel promptly wrapped around my head.

  Oh, what a sight I must appear. Wet, bedraggled, naked, and covered head to toe in towels that have never been washed, whilst two women man-handle me. Thank god there is nobody here to witness this indignity. I shall be shunned from society, have my name removed from guest lists; I shall never be married…

  "Ruth!" a female voice calls from the doorway. "What are you doing to Anne?"

  "Doctors orders," comes Fat Ruth's reply, muffled to my ears through the towel. "Treatment. Restores blood flow to the brain, don’t you know."

  "I didn't see any orders to this effect," says the voice. The towel around my head is removed, and I am face to face with Agnes.

  “Well, he made them!” replies Fat Ruth, defensively. “Perhaps you were too busy fawning over your little woman, here.”

  "Bonjour!"I say with genuine pleasure.

  "Hello, Anne,"Agnus says. Her face looks sad, and a little concerned. "You'll be coming with me now."

  "She stays with me," says Fat Ruth.

  "No, she's coming with me, unless you would prefer me to report what I just witnessed to Dr Savage this afternoon?"

  Fat Ruth smirks. "As you like. I don’t know why I bother; honestly, it’s like working in a leper colony. Except she's worse. Take her. She’s nothing but a dirty baby killer."

  The words hit me like a thunderbolt, and the coldness ebbing inside of me is nothing compared to the frostiness upon my skin.

  My soul turns to ice.

  "It is her misfortune, Ruth: not her crime. Come on Anne, let's go."Agnus takes me by my hands, and quickly leads me out of the cold tiled bathroom, along the corridor, and into my room. Bundling me onto the bed, she momentarily disappears, only to swiftly reappear with a bundle of folded clean linen.

  "Quickly, before you catch your death," she says softly, and starts to dress me as you would a child. I sit still and meek, and let her twist and turn my limbs into the clothes. When she is finished, some semblance of warmth starts to return to my body. I still can't feel my fingers nor toes, though. I tell her as much.

  "Your extremities will be the last to warm up, Anne,"Agnus replies. "At the moment, your body is trying to preserve and divert heat to your internal organs, and I imagine you are also in a slight state of hypothermia. I cannot warm you up too quickly, I'm sorry. It's dangerous if I do."

  Nodding, I turn my face up to meet her gaze. I can trust this woman. Now, I am sure of it. Her kindness is unfounded to date, she knows me only as a murderer of my child. She knew who I was, and what I had done, yet she gave me nothing but compassion, and showed only kindness. Why would she help me? I’m not sure, but I do know that she is through and through, a good person. Unlike me.

  "Why are you helping me, Agnus? You know I killed my baby."I tell her. It comes out in a whisper.

  "Anne, you remember?"Agnus looks shocked and uncomfortable. “Was it the hypnosis?”

  "When Fat Ruth called me a, a, baby killer, I remembered, "I said. "I don’t remember anything from the session with that man. Hypnotised, was I? I don’t know. It was almost as if, with the shock of being so cold, and hearing Fat Ruth's words, the past came back somehow."I start to cry. "Oh god, what did I do? Why?"I start sobbing and hiccupping.

  Agnus holds me close and rocks me for some time, until my snuffling and weeping subsides.

  "Anne. Bad things happen to people, and people happen to do bad things. I truly believe you are one of the former. A bad thing happened to you, in the form of puerperal insanity."

  "Pardon?"

  "Take a look around you. Tell me where we are."

  I study my surroundings. My room. A mattress with worn brown blankets. An empty chamberpot. A small window with bars on. Yellow walls.

  "Oh God, oh dear Lord, I'm going to rot in prison! I deserve so!"

  "Anne, you are not in a prison, nor are you a prisoner."

  Agnus then regales me with my initial diagnosis, complete with all medical minutiae, 'So far as I understand it, Anne, I am but a nurse'; she tells me everything about my admission, including my adamancy that I had been kidnapped, and all key events that have led me up to this point. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small thin book. I read the title: 'The Handbook For The Instruction Of Attendants On The Insane.' This is my bible, Anne. I assure you once again I am a nurse, and you are in a hospital."

  For the insane, yes.

  "And what of my darling husband, what of him?" I ask her. I am terrified of her answer, I am sure he would have filed for divorce. No doubt I am now impoverished.

  Agnus cracks a small smile. "Your husband is a true gentleman Anne, and he loves you unwaveringly. He has offered you nothing but support, and blames you not for the death of your child."

  I don't believe it.

  "How can he not blame me?"I fling myself melodramatically backwards onto the mattress. Looking at the ceiling, I say: "My baby, my baby John, I killed him, I deserve to die a thousand deaths and burn in hell."

  "Anne, this is fantastic progress. But now that you remember, you need to start the long, painful process of grieving. Eventually all that guilt and hurt inside of you will become something manageable, something understandable; from there you can return to your husband, and you can go on with your life and live a long and fulfilling many years outside of these walls. Remaining here, doing penance for a crime that is not your fault will never bring John back, and will grieve your husband much." Agnus pulls me up and looks straight into my eyes. "Do you love your husband, Anne?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you must get well for him," she says sternly. "You must put aside your egocentric self pity; you must get these delusions of grandeur such as suffering in hell as atonement for your sins right out of your head. Staying here won't help you, it won't help your husband, and it will never bring John back to you. But it will kill your husband, for I am sure he would die of a broken heart if you were not returned to him one day soon."

  I understand. This is the breaking point. I know what to do.

  "Can I speak with Dr Savage? I have something important to tell him. I am sane."

  She smiles at me and smoothes my face with her hand.

  "That's my girl."

  “Agn
us?”

  “Yes?”

  “There's one more thing.”

  “What's that?”

  “I think I've just started my courses again.”

  She peeks underneath the nightgown.

  “Yes, you have. This is fantastic news, Anne. Absolutely fantastic!”

  As she runs from the cell to fetch me a woman's towel, I sit back and smile.

  Deep Shade Of Red

  Dr George Savage

  March 20th, 1886

  Royal Bethlem Hospital

  Today I found Anne possessed of a most positive disposition. During our meeting, she answered questions thoughtfully with an evident insight into her past insanity whilst displaying an accurate awareness of her present orientation. She is logical in her thinking, and has clearly re-established in her memory the chain of events that brought her to Bethlem. She is able to face and accept what happened that night in Asquith House, and recollect what happened before. What became clear to me during our discussion is that which conspired against Anne to predispose her to puerperal mania both before and during her pregnancy.

  Anne was clearly distressed following the miscarriage she suffered before her son was born, and it is in my professional opinion that this grievance left Anne extremely susceptible to future mental problems. I do not believe that she fully mourned the loss of her first child, and when faced with her second pregnancy, she thereupon read any and all literature she could lay her hands on with regards to midwifery and childbirth in a misguided attempt to keep the second baby safe; naturally, given her history of reading since she was but a child. This in turn filled her mind with apprehensions at to the horrors that might be in store for her, and she thus developed a cerebral disturbance. She tells me that she has always read since she was a child: growing up in an environment that secluded her from peers of her own age made her seek to find comfort inside books instead of with people. This constant and voracious reading is a contributing factor. It is for this reason women should not educate themselves beyond affairs of the home.

  As the pregnancy progressed she developed nervous disturbances ranging from mild irritability and crossness, to upsets and fretfulness. These conditions of which she displayed were unfortunately dismissed by her midwife and doctor at the time, being wrongly interpreted as a natural response to the excitement, discomfort and trepidation associated with pregnancy and childbirth, rather than an indication of the onset of a severe mental illness.

  Anne confesses to me that on more than one occasion, she voiced her concerns with the midwife, and was simply told to acquire an air of serenity, cheerfulness and good humour 'essential to her own health and that of her offspring. Whilst this was in no way bad advice, this demonstrates to me that Anne's declining mental state was certainly overlooked in its initial stages of decline. The abrupt loss of her milk was noted by the midwife, but no real concern was raised over this.

  In the present day, I find her mania symptoms much receded: her flesh is no longer loose, her complexion no longer sallow, her tongue no longer tremulous. Her appetite is great and is satisfied. Her menstruation has recommenced, she sleeps well at night, and no longer harbours delusions of persecution nor experiences hallucinations. Her memory has returned in full. She now accepts that she has suffered an attack of the senses.

  I find Anne both respectable and redeemable after her period of rest and rehabilitation here at the Royal Bethlem Hospital.

  Recommendation: discharge to Witley at earliest convenience.

  A letter stating such to be sent to the Home Office regarding a possible release date.

  Satisfied, I lean back on my chair and throw my pen on the desk. This is what I have been waiting for, this moment. A knock on my door disturbs me.

  "Please, enter."I call.

  The door opens, and standing in the doorway are Ruth and Agnus, my two best nurses. Ruth looks rather angry, and Agnus appears defiant. My, what is it now?

  "Dr Savage, this is utterly disgusting!" Ruth shakes her head and marches up to my desk. Her bosom heaving, she points a finger in my face and opens her mouth like a fish, only to close it when she apparently loses her train of thought. Her face is red with suppressed rage. Agnus looks to Ruth, and nodding her head at me in indulgent understanding, sits down quietly.

  "Ruth is somewhat agitated, Sir."Agnus says a hint of a smile hiding underneath her serious facade.

  "That I can see, Nurse Agnus. Nurse Ruth, whatever ails you? Come, sit, before you pop a vein in that head of yours."

  Ruth turns a deeper shade of red, and glares at Agnus.

  "I shall sit, Sir, in a moment."

  "As you please."I tell her.

  Agnus looks to the floor, and I swear her shoulders are twitching. Ruth looks to me and reluctantly sits.

  "Again, I ask you Nurse Ruth: what ails you this morning?"

  "That Anne!"

  "Lady Stanbury, you mean?"I stand up. “And I believe she is a person, not an object to be referred to as ‘that’. Nurse Ruth, do not get ahead of yourself, I believe it is both prudent and necessary for you to address a Lady by her given title: is it not?"

  "No Lady would kill her own baby! And anyway, we call her Anne to her face, so why not behind her back?"

  I sigh. Ruth has been a fixture at Bethlem as long as the rafters that hold the building together, but I fear she is losing her objectivity.

  "And no nurse would speak such ill of a patient in her charge. Plus I believe you understand why we called Lady Stanbury by her first name for a period of time, in order not to further confuse her mind by being associated with a name which held no identity for her. Now, Nurse Ruth, I strongly suggest you gather your senses and speak plain to me."

  "I am simply furious, Doctor Savage Sir. Absolutely speechless, in fact."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because Lady Stanbury seems to believe she is soon to be going home! And all because of this one!" Ruth points at Agnus angrily.

  "Actually, Ruth, it was your treatment that cured her."Agnus replies, and smiles.

  "What treatment?"I ask.

  “The hydrotherapy. Like you told me.” Ruth says, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Yes, I did authorise that. What exactly is the problem, here?”

  “Ruth called Lady Stanbury a 'baby killer', Doctor.”

  "Oh, you little snitch!" cries Ruth, raising her arms in frustration and banging her fists on her lap.

  "Well, you are the one that insisted you spoke to Dr Savage, Ruth! What do you expect me to do? Keep quiet about it with you acting so crazy?"

  "How dare you call me crazy! I work with the crazy! I am certainly not crazy!"

  "I think you must be, a little bit, to work with them." says Agnus, quietly.

  "Nurse Agnus..."I reproach her. The last thing I neither want nor need is a battle of women in my office. "What treatment is this of which you speak?"

  "That day when Lady Stanbury came to see you Sir? That there morning, Ruth had given her the cold bath treatment, and called her a murderer,"Agnus says quickly. "The patient was most distressed. I took her out, and it was then that she spoke to me about where she was, and recalled the incident that led her to be here."

  "Is this true, Ruth?"I am livid. “You spoke to a patient in this manner?” Ruth notes that I have dropped her title, and becomes even redder.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Pardon? I can't quite hear you."

  "Yes Sir!" Ruth shouts the words. "It is true! Of course it is true! She's a liar, and she’s no more mad than either you or I!"

  "I think, Ruth, that it is you that is slightly 'mad' at the moment. Firstly, and listen well, I am the chief medical officer here at Bethlem. Anything and everything you do and say to any patients has my authorization before you do, say, think, or feel it. You have been here long enough; you know well that shocking patients with words about their deeds is not indicated in the management of puerperal psychosis, and could have pushed her further and deeper into her madness. Lady Stanbury
is here only for rest and recuperation, her insanity being only temporary. You are also aware that these women; such as Lady Stanbury should be treated as if they will recover completely, as being aware of temporary conditions in a lunatic asylum can make these women insane permanently. Calling her a 'baby killer', could have resulted in utterly disastrous consequences for Anne, and unhinged her mind completely. You took it upon yourself to issue forth derogatory and unfeeling comments which were not of your authority, and for this I issue you with a verbal warning. If I hear any more complaints of you treating any of your patients; especially Lady Stanbury in such a manner, or indeed, do anything without my prior and explicit say so, you will be out of employment quicker than a rabbit on fire. Do you understand me?"

  "But, but...but it was after the treatment she returned to sanity!" Ruth splutters.

  "That is as may be, Nurse Ruth. But I see that you have missed somewhat the point I was trying to make here. You are not in control. Whether it was the plunge bath that returned Lady Stanbury's senses or not is not the issue at stake here. What is clear is your inability to respect rules and authority. This is your first, and last warning."

  I turn to Agnus.

  "Nurse Agnus, great thanks to you for seeing Lady Stanbury to warmth and health after her 'treatment' here with Nurse Ruth, and may I tell you now that I greatly suspect it was your humane and kind treatment of Anne that led her back to her senses, considering how abruptly she was somewhat rudely jerked into the present reality, courtesy of Ruth here. I have never known a cold bath to cure any inmate of any manner of insanity, ever, in just one administration."

  Agnus nods solemnly.

  "Whilst I consider removing Anne from your charge, Nurse Ruth, you do well to mind me and what we have discussed here today. Now, take your leave, I have much work to attend to. And may I suggest you give the Red Book a read, for I have never seen you pick it up. There are things you could learn in there, including respect."