small window in her head so that he could remove the damaged part of her right temporal lobe. Heâd told Lisa that somehow, a part of Lisaâs brain had been damaged, and it was that section that was causing her seizures. If he could take just the damaged part out the seizures would stop. Heâd done almost a hundred such operations with wonderful results. At the time Lisa had been ecstatic because up until Dr. Mannerheim all she could get from her doctors was compassionate head shaking.
And the seizures were horrible. Usually she knew when they were coming because she would smell the strangely familiar odor. But sometimes they came without warning, descending on her like an avalanche. Once in a movie theater, after sheâd been given a long course of heavy medication and assurances that the problem was under control, she smelled the horrid odor. In a panic sheâd jumped up, stumbled to the aisle, and ran back toward the lobby. At that point she became unaware of her actions. Later she âcame toâ propped up against the lobby wall by the candy machine, with her hand between her legs. Her clothes were partially off, and like a cat in heat, sheâd been masturbating. A group of people was staring at her as if she were a freak, including Jim, whom sheâd punched and kicked. Later shelearned sheâd assaulted two girls, injuring one enough to be hospitalized. At the time sheâd âcome toâ all she could do was close her eyes and cry. Everyone was afraid to come near her. In the distance she remembered hearing the sound of the ambulance. She thought that she was going insane.
Lisaâs life had come to a standstill. She wasnât insane, but no medication controlled her seizures. So when Dr. Mannerheim appeared, he seemed like a savior. It wasnât until Dr. Ranadeâs visit that she began to comprehend the reality of what was going to happen to her. After Dr. Ranade, an orderly had arrived to shave her head. From that moment on, Lisa had been frightened.
âIs there some reason why he wants local anesthesia?â asked Lisa. Her hands had begun to tremble. Dr. Ranade had thought carefully about his answer.
âYes,â he said finally, âhe wants to locate the diseased part of your brain. He needs your help.â
âYou mean, Iâll be awake when . . .â Lisa didnât finish her sentence. Her voice had trailed off. The idea seemed preposterous.
âThatâs correct,â said Dr. Ranade.
âBut he knows where the diseased part of my brain is,â protested Lisa.
âNot well enough. But donât worry. Iâll be there. Thereâll be no pain. All you have to remember is no coughing and no sudden movements.â
Lisaâs reverie was cut short by a feeling of pain in her left forearm. Looking up she could see tiny bubbles rising up in a bottle over her head. Dr. Ranade had started the IV. He did the same thing in her right forearm, threading into her a long thin plastic tube. Then he adjusted the table so that it tilted slightly downward.
âLisa,â said Carol Bigelow. âIâm going to catheterize you.â
Picking up her head, Lisa looked down. Carol was busy unwrapping a plastic covered box. Nancy Donovan, another scrub nurse, pulled back Lisaâs sheet exposing her from the waist down.
âCatheterize?â questioned Lisa.
âYes,â said Carol Bigelow, pulling on loose rubber gloves. âIâm going to put a tube into your bladder.â
Lisa allowed her head to fall back. Nancy Donovan grasped Lisaâs legs and positioned them so that the soles of her feet were together while her knees were widely apart. She lay exposed for the world to see.
âIâm going to be giving you a medicine called mannitol,â explained Dr. Ranade. âIt causes you to make a lot of urine.â
Lisa nodded as if she understood while she felt Carol Bigelow begin to scrub her
Learning to Kill: Stories