Lobotomy Survivors Novels & Stories

Amanda said for Celine to sigh. “ is it Aaron?” She asked for Amanda to keep quiet. “ Aaron… useless brother of mine” Celine said as she continue to give Amanda her meal. It was middle of the night, a black van stop at a rehab centers for people with disabilities, two young men were brought out on wheel chair as the nurse and doctor of the rehab center drove them in. “ they where shot at their kneels, my boss wants the bullet out and also do some surgeries with their brain. He wants them to forget some certain memories. Can you successfully do that?” The man on black coat asked the doctor who smile.

The doctor said and Liam laughed, he had followed a lot of bypass stories and not many of them had been as successful as the doctors made it seem, a lot of them were left with one disability or the other, and h wasn't going to risk it. "Doc, you do know I do a lot of research right?" "No, I am just hearing of it, what do you research about?" The doctor curiously. "Well, I do, and it's everything related to my condition and the successful surgeries that have been done so far and of twenty or more cases only a few left unscratched, the others have one disability or the other, I am not going to talk of the number of dead in the operating room cases, and you know I am rhesus negative, that's ano

“Where did you find this poor thing?!” “Fox’s Tread. I didn’t dare bathe him because of the wounds. I think some are festering,” the soldier says. “He… um… he says his name is Roach, but he really can’t remember.” “Frontal lobe damage.” The doctor nods, looking at my dented forehead. “I’ll need to examine you more closely, Mr. Roach. You may need surgery.” “As long as you keep feeding me, you can do whatever you want,” I reply.

Martin ordered Jacob “Do I need to notify Chairman Masuda about your arrival? Or perhaps….” Jacob hasn’t finished his words, then Martin cut him off “I will tell dad by myself! You can go,” Martin told him and Jacob nodded before he left For a moment, Martin stared blankly at his Macbook’s screen. ‘Brain damage patient survival’ was written on his browser. He saw ‘less than 10% patient survived after brain surgery’ sentence once more before he closed his Macbook.

"On the edge of the Red District. There’s a defrocked priest there. Father Miller. He doesn't use prayers. He uses a silver-nitrate wash and a localized lobotomy of the limbic system. He strips the beast out. Leaves the man behind. Usually leaves the man a vegetable, too." "He’s going to lobotomize himself?" The words felt like lead in my mouth. I stepped back, my hand dropping from his collar. My claws retracted, leaving four small, weeping punctures in his skin. "To protect me? That's not protection. That's suicide."

In the rehabilitation center where Clovia was admitted, the doctors are giving her electric treatment often to help her recover. The frequency of the electric shocks to Clovia made her head feel hazy and heavy. She is taking a little longer to identify the objects she is looking at, and she even forgets about why she got there. It took her a good five minutes to remember everything. Leo, his marriage to Ida everything Clovia did to Ida, and how she was stuck in this torture chamber.

He kept on going about killing someone and saving someone… After so many years, he's the second person who exhibited symptoms like these. Luna furrowed her brows and walked alongside the doctor, asking, "There's another one who had similar symptoms as him? Who…" "He's Christopher's father, Larry Roberts." The doctor sighed. "Larry was a patient in this hospital, too. He kept on yelling every day about 'killing someone' and 'saving someone'. "Most of the time, he was like any normal person, but he couldn't be provoked. Even after many treatments, he'd collapse once provoked by something he saw or heard."

I commented. “Mental? Yes, of course,” Bobby answered. “It was more than mental. Out of the five survivors, one is dead after being admitted to a mental hospital due to severe PTSD. One is in a wheelchair today and another had both arms amputated. You know my fate and for the last of us, he might be alive or dead.” “You never heard from him?” I asked. “I did,” Bobby replied. “We called him Loppy. When he was a new recruit to our squad, I was his mentor. I taught him all he had to know about our operations. He was a good boy until what happened to us.”

During his time at the rehabilitation center, Sebestian had been focused on the more physical things he lost. Such as his amputated leg, all the scars he now had, the possibility of seizures that'd haunt him for the rest of his life, the slight problems with speech that'd likely stay with him. He avoided thinking about his accidentally revealed marital status as much as possible. Now that he was home there was no escape and the realization that there were different kind of losses, too, hit him so hard he struggled to handle the blow.

“What do you reckon?” Jordan took a deep breath and said solemnly, “I just explained that Mr Carter underwent a craniotomy. No matter how successful the surgery was, there is no way to avoid damaging some of the nerves in the brain. Mr. Carter’s brain would probably still be affected, causing some aftereffects.” When I heard this, my heart ached again. I asked worriedly, “What after-effects will there be?” “Usually, a loss of memory. It’s also possible that his intelligence will decline. We can only confirm everything when Mr. Carter wakes up.”