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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-08 07:21:07 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-08 07:21:07 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75557-0.txt b/75557-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4849eca --- /dev/null +++ b/75557-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1627 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75557 *** + + + + + + MERELY THE PATIENT + + + + + MERELY + THE + PATIENT + + + By + HENRY HOWARD HARPER + + + + MINTON, BALCH & COMPANY + NEW YORK 1930 + + + + + Copyright, 1930, by + HENRY HOWARD HARPER + + + Third Printing, February, 1932 + + + _Printed in the United States of America by_ + THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS, NEW ROCHELLE, N. Y. + + + + + CONTENTS + + PAGE + PREFATORY NOTE 7 + A PAIN DISCOVERS ME 19 + RUNNING THE GANTLET 23 + THE CYSTOSCOPIC TRAP 36 + YOU NEVER DISCOVER IF YOU HAVE PASSED OR FLUNKED YOUR EXAMINATIONS 40 + THE SHOCKING DISCOVERY 44 + “ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE—” 50 + MY ENCOUNTER WITH ADHESIVE TAPE 62 + THE ATMOSPHERE OF DISSIMULATION 72 + THE CALAMITOUS VERDICT 78 + FLIRTING WITH THE SHADOWS 82 + THE ROAD TO RECOVERY 87 + SUBCONSCIOUS HALLUCINATIONS 91 + CONCLUSION 94 + + + + + + TO + THE EIGHT DOCTORS + AND NINE NURSES + WHO ASSISTED, + NOT IN WRITING, BUT + IN MAKING THIS BOOK + POSSIBLE + + + + + PREFATORY NOTE + + By SAMUEL W. LAMBERT, M.D. + + +It is an unusual privilege to look into the mind of a person afflicted +with a serious illness and learn the point of view of a patient who, +without losing confidence in his medical advisers, questions the when +and the wherefore of his treatment. + +In this book Mr. Henry H. Harper presents a graphic and realistic +picture to the reader. It contains the confessions of a patient to whom +the fact is very palpable that his progress from illness to health was +not all that he had been persuaded to expect when he entered upon his +medical and surgical adventure. + +The majority of persons who have experienced only the minor discomforts +of an appendectomy or a tonsillectomy may not fully appreciate the +underlying importance of this masterpiece which Mr. Harper’s skillful +pencil has drawn. Their idea of an operation will be confined to a +preliminary period of worry and apprehension, an active horror of +thirty-six or seventy-two hours of pain and distress, followed by a +convalescence of two or three weeks of comfort, of visits by friends, +of a world in which the recovered patient is the central object of +attention. But Mr. Harper does not present such a commonplace picture; +for his convalescence became a disease, and almost a fatal disease at +that. One of the chief messages implied in his story is the tribute +to his skillful surgeon, and a grateful remembrance of the care and +untiring attention which pulled him through a serious blood poisoning, +and of the radical method of treatment which became necessary to insure +his recovery. + +Moreover, the author has written a colorful and humorous description of +his clinical and hospital experiences. There is a pertinent message +for every past or prospective patient. After his return from the +operating room he was subservient to the restraints of a convalescence +from a major operation; he was observant of his symptoms and anxious +to communicate his subjective feelings to his medical attendants. He +did not exaggerate his discomforts. The post-operative message of this +case portrays an interesting and exemplary lesson for every individual, +and especially every surgical patient. It is not clear how much of this +good behavior is due to overcoming the preliminary antagonism of a man +trying to escape a surgical fate, and how much to the breaking down of +a strong human will before the inexorable training of a professional +habit of thought founded on an unbending scientific routine. + +But the most important message in this story of a nephrectomy is +perhaps unintentional: it is of importance to the physician himself, +and here is a book which should be read by every member of the medical +profession. + +The lesson begins at the patient’s first encounter with a complete +up-to-date routine health examination. His reactions during his +journey through a modern clinic are far from placid, and not free from +a resentment--expressed with playful seriousness--which any person, +lay or professional, can easily understand. The author displays +a keen appreciation of the humorous side of the modern system of +diagnosticating disease in a scientific manner; although he does not +admire the detail. Being a layman, he cannot be expected to follow the +relation between the determination of the amount of free hydrochloric +acid in a stomach that was digesting everything without known +complaint, and a kidney which at times was the seat of a pain. Nor does +he realize that he may make a better convalescence if a blood test is +made which some scientist unknown to him, has determined can decide +whether any ancestor has had hard luck with his diseases. + +Mr. Harper describes his experiences from the unusual viewpoint of an +invalid’s bed, giving the humorous impression that the joke is on him, +without realizing that all these jokes, little and big, were training +him to go to the operating room with a feeling of elation and courage +for the outcome, and there to climb on the operating table unassisted. + +But the physician can learn from this story what the author has taught, +all unconsciously: he can learn to omit unnecessary examinations made +purely for scientific curiosity or record alone, and not for diagnosis; +also to listen considerately to the complaints of his patients; to +appreciate that a patient’s feelings during convalescence may have more +value in determining treatment than all the physical signs of disease +or of well-being which he can discover by fingers, eyes and ears, or by +instruments of greater or less precision; to beware the use of new and +non-official remedies, even when endorsed by manufacturers of honest +intent; to look twice at remedies which are patented for the personal +profit of an exclusive chemist or sometimes, I regret to say, for +pecuniary gain to some member of my profession. + +The description of the night before the first operation is much to the +point. The patient’s experience with the amateur hospital barber gives +a vibrant touch of humor to the mystery of preparing for the operating +room, which is so apt to develop into a hospital tradition even in the +best of organizations; a mystery which is, as likely as not, to hinder +the acquiring of a good morale by a patient. Mr. Harper discreetly +leaves much to the imagination concerning the gruesome details of +his stormy convalescence. But the oft-told tale of the normalcy and +expected sequence of such events as a patient is supposed to experience +and describe; the account of the bottles of castor oil he was obliged +to consume; the tale of the nurse who “died” behind a screen in his +room; the tale of the military rounds of hospital service which seem +cold but which are necessary, and which really can have a soul hidden +within them; the tale of the prognostic nurse who prophesied the death +of the kidney patient in “Number 88;” the tale of the first removal of +the surgical dressings after the operation; the tale of the visit of +consolation (?) from the official head of a neighboring church, all +lend vividness and color to the tragedy and the gaiety of what must +have seemed to the author as “one thousand and one nights” of horror +and mischance. But throughout the entire melange he seems never to have +lost his sense of humor. + +Mr. Harper has seen fit to quote my first impressions when I commented +on this book shortly after reading the privately printed first edition. +I am correctly quoted, for I believe that every young graduate must +secure an appreciation of the discomforts of illness if he is to be +successful in making his patients comfortable during their sojourn in +bed, and their subsequent convalescence. The art of every physician +should include much more than a mere cure for his patient. There is no +school like experience, and a personal accident or a febrile disease +requiring a stay in bed will do more to educate a physician than all +the books that have been printed, or than any service he may carry on +in a hospital. + +The most engaging story of today is the hard luck medical story; and +the human individual, especially among women, is so prone to recite +his or her own, or the experience of others, that the ladies’ luncheon +party in modern society has been well designated “an organ recital.” + +Mr. Harper enters only one complaint against a member of my profession, +and that a justifiable one: his account of the first post-operative +dressing should be told to every young medical student as a warning and +a threat for them to avoid such a brutal performance. He refrains from +telling us about the disagreeable offices of the hospital orderly, and +of the painfully embarrassing moments of daily routine which led one +patient of my acquaintance to greet every knock on his door with the +challenge, “Who goes there? Friend or enema?” + +I feel a kindred claim to cherish this little book, for although I +have never taken a general anaesthetic yet I have had typhoid fever +once, and pneumonia twice. It was during one such convalescence that +I composed during a wakeful night what I dared call a sonnet. I am +no poet but my overwrought nerves, chagrin, temper or some unknown +caprice, induced the Muse to urge me to give birth to this thought: + + + HELL IS NOT PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS + + Oh Bedpan! Implement of woe + To one who is compelled to go + In bed. Whence camest thou? + Who first thought to make of thee a plan + To minister to urgent need of man? + No mind celestial ever gave thee birth. + + No human science ever tried to break + The law by Isaac Newton found, + And make go up what should go down. + Let thine own anatomy quite frankly speak! + Whether of clay or agate it is clearly read + That fires Satanic were thy natal bed. + + Thou art a stolen quadrate, I know full well, + From the tessellated pavement of deepest Hell. + +I have since used these words to cheer up suffering humans who rebel +at fate and the unnecessary crimes of brutal attendants, which are the +results of doctors’ orders. + +Mr. Harper has written of his remarkable experiences in a calm, +humorous and analytical spirit. I recommend his story to professional +and lay readers alike. + + + + + MERELY THE PATIENT + + + + + MERELY THE PATIENT + + + + + A PAIN DISCOVERS ME + + +THERE is said to be no subject on earth more entertaining (to the +narrator) than a major operation; and two operations, especially +if they fall close together, ought to be--for purposes of +self-entertainment--twice as good as one. Thus reckoning, it will +presently be seen that I have a decided advantage over those who have +to content themselves with only one, or none at all. + +And it occurs to me that to write a book is the most considerate as +well as the most expeditious means of acquainting your friends with the +details of an operation or other painful experience; for in this way +you can expatiate at large on the most harrowing aspects of the case, +and everybody is at liberty to read as much or as little as he can +stand, and skip the rest; whereas if you get the listener’s ear he is +almost obliged to suffer attentively through to the end of your story. +Furthermore, in a book you can advertise your troubles far more widely +and effectively, and with less effort. Another advantage in writing +a book on some pet theme is that, like a filibusterer in the senate +chamber, you have the floor all to yourself: the difference being that +while his verbosity is wholly without interest or sense, either to +himself or his sleeping audience, your story is at least self-absorbing. + +To go back to the origin of this story, it began with a +pain--intermittent at first, but soon becoming violent and continuous. +When it reached this stage I called in a physician, who pronounced it +a bad attack of something with a strange name, which being reduced to +simple English meant there was something wrong with my left kidney. He +gave me a hypodermic of morphine and two days later I developed a bad +case of septic pneumonia which, with resultant complications, laid me +low for eight weeks. While convalescing from this I wrote a book on +stock market speculation. I don’t know what prompted me to write such a +book at such a time, unless it was that something in the nearness of my +approach to the realms of the unknown reminded me of how near I came to +leaving the world unprotected against the pitfalls of Wall Street. + +In due time I recovered from both the pneumonia and the book, but the +kidney was still belligerent, and about every six weeks, to quell its +savage attacks I had to take morphine and spend a few days in bed with +it. In the fall of that year while on a visit to my mother-in-law in +Minneapolis I was persuaded to take this refractory organ to the Mayo +Clinic at Rochester, Minnesota; and that sequestered little town, which +in the domain of operations, sickness and suffering occupies about the +same position as New York City does in the world of finance, provided +the setting for the semi-tragic episode herein related, in which for +many weeks I played the leading rôle before a mixed assemblage of +doctors, nurses and anxious relatives. + +Fielding tells us that to prolong scenes of distress to an unwonted +degree is a task for which the reader feels but little indebted to the +author. Therefore since we have here to deal chiefly with grim-faced +facts such as are usually productive of more awe than amusement I +shall treat the whole catastrophe as lightly as the circumstances will +permit. But after all, a serious illness or an operation--like lion +hunting, stock market ventures and suchlike hazards--has its varied and +interesting phases; and many of its gloomy aspects are susceptible of +humorous interpretation when viewed in retrospect by those who survive +to tell the story. + +In the present undertaking I was encouraged by the statement of both +Doctor “Will” Mayo and Doctor W. F. Braasch, that one of the most +difficult problems of the physician is to get the accurate viewpoint +of the patient. Not that the patient’s viewpoint seems to make any +difference, but they like to have it, possibly for the same reason +that the little boy liked to hear the stuttering man talk--because it +amused him. In order to get the reactions of a patient, Doctor Samuel +W. Lambert goes so far as to say: “I have often told my students that +every physician should have a severe illness, and every surgeon an +abdominal operation.” Possibly those who read this account will feel +themselves relieved from the need of trying out Doctor Lambert’s +recommendation--which might also have included nurses, though he may +have figured that they have other ways of kindling their sympathetic +emotions. + + + + + RUNNING THE GANTLET + + +On arriving at the Mayo Clinic I found that, if unaccompanied by +a physician, you are required to register and procure a numbered +registration envelope, which serves as a sort of passport throughout +the whole institution and entitles you to be examined, at their +discretionary rates, for everything they can think of, including your +income and your sanity. This formality disposed of, I was directed +to a certain lettered and numbered desk (there are several floors +of tremendous length and breadth, with a great number of such desks +on each floor). This particular desk was presided over by a young +lady who gave me a numbered slip and automatically directed me to +“take a chair.” After waiting nearly three hours I was ushered +into the presence of a diagnostician in the department of urology, +to whom I briefly stated my case, and said I wanted to find out +what sort of treatment they would recommend. Without appearing to +have heard anything I said he took out a long questionnaire and +began cross-examining me about my habits, my mode of living and +other personal matters. He could think of more prying questions +than a prosecuting attorney. He was particularly curious about my +antecedents--how long they had lived, what they died of, and other +long-forgotten data about the fallen branches of my family tree. Having +no idea that kidney-stones were hereditary I wondered what all this +long catechism had to do with my complaint, in which, by the way, he +didn’t seem the least bit concerned. + +Then having me strip to the waist he stretched me on a long table and +thumped me over pretty much as one would test a watermelon to see if it +were ripe. For some reason best known to himself he studiously avoided +the kidney corner of my anatomy; which reminded me of a man I once +played golf with, who when his ball landed in the bushes or tall grass +always looked for it in some adjacent quarter for fear of finding it in +an unplayable lie. Needless to say, we had mutually agreed that there +should be no penalty for lost balls. + +When the doctor had completed his record of all I knew, and also +had pommeled me until his solemn visage betokened some momentous +conclusion--which he guarded with profound secrecy--his air of mute +sobriety was in nowise reassuring. He put the stethoscope to my +heart, then shifted it to the left kidney and asked me to breathe +deeply--perhaps to see if the two organs were beating in unison. But +he shook his head negatively, which I took to mean that something was +wrong with one or the other. + +“Nothing serious, I hope,” said I, studying his inscrutable face for +some hopeful token. For a few moments he seemed lost in meditation, +which set me to wondering if he had found something he didn’t dare +tell me about. Then without answering, he wrote out and handed me the +following prescription: “Four ounces of castor oil and loganberry +juice, no supper, to bed at seven o’clock, up at seven A. M., +no breakfast, report at desk XY-4 at 7:30 tomorrow.” I suggested that +four ounces was rather a generous dose, but he said the conditions +warranted it, so I didn’t argue the matter with him. He also gave +me several envelopes of assorted colors, directing me to various +appointment desks, and informed me with great impressiveness that they +contained orders for examinations. Incidentally he told me that when I +had finished with these I might go to breakfast, then report back to +him. + +My first appointment next morning was for an X-ray of the offending +kidney, and having finished with this I set out to dispose of the other +four envelopes, curiously anxious to learn what the examinations would +disclose--heart disease, kidney-stones, gall-stones, cancer or what. +It must be something terrible, I thought; otherwise the doctor would +not have shown such deep and mystified concern. It is remarkable how +one’s imagination can run wild when the physical machinery is upset by +some puzzling ailment. One fear begets another and, like bacteria, they +multiply, until it becomes possible to alarm one’s self into almost +any sort of malady. For example, while at the outset I was satisfied +that my only trouble was seated in the left kidney, during the +course of the next few days, owing to the variety and severity of the +examinations, and the utter lack of information concerning the results +of any of them, I fancied myself the victim of no less than half a +dozen diseases, most of them fatal. + +At the next desk, there being at least fifty people ahead of me, I told +the young lady I’d call later. At this point I began to feel a little +encouraged, because whatever I had, it seemed to be very prevalent, and +the afflicted ones didn’t appear to be much disturbed, except one poor +old fellow, who was badly doubled up with what I suspected to be a case +of “gravel” pains such as I had often experienced. I asked him if he +had kidney trouble. + +“No,” he said; “it’s just a nasty hang-over from a castor oil jag last +night.” + +After waiting an hour at the third desk they sent me into a nearby +room to have all my teeth X-rayed. This completed, I plucked up more +courage, and taking my fourth envelope I wandered about among the +crowd, looking for the specified desk, which I finally located two +floors below. The attendant there, like all the others, asked me to +“take a chair”--a phrase that one hears repeated everywhere, until +eventually it gets on your nerves. After a couple of hours or so I got +up and asked the desk girl how much longer she thought I’d have to wait. + +“The doctor will see you in your turn. Take a chair, please.” + +After a few days you get so that, like a trained monkey, you +instinctively look for a chair the moment you approach a desk. You +sit and sit--anywhere from an hour to all day. Your chief amusement +consists of looking about, wondering what’s the matter with this +or that one. The majority of the patients wore a look of calm but +determined resignation, and naturally I supposed that most of them had +kidney-stones. + +Unless someone stumbles over your feet, you are rarely disturbed, +whether awake or asleep, therefore it is necessary to exercise due +caution that you are at the right desk; otherwise you may sit all day +till closing time before discovering your error. When your turn comes, +if you happen to be asleep from exhaustion you automatically revert to +the foot of the line, which is apt to mean the loss of a whole day. +But time means absolutely nothing here--to anyone but the patients. If +you ask the diagnostician when you’ll be through he answers evasively, +“As soon as we have completed your examinations.” There is something +contagious about clinical examinations: the first one calls for at +least two more, the next two show that you need five or six others, and +so on _ad infinitum_, until you feel like a fellow in the dark, +hunting for the last link in an endless chain. + +Another stereotyped phrase that one hears on entering most of the +examination rooms is, “Strip to the waist.” You are sent to a little +_un_dressing booth and furnished with a sort of loose flowing +Chinese robe to take the place of your upper garments. On being +directed to one of these booths, and finding it already occupied, I +sauntered along the hallway and presently found another similar looking +room, with the door slightly ajar. Without observing the “For Women” +sign overhead, I opened the door and switched on the light, supposing +the room to be unoccupied. But a loud shriek from a back corner +disclosed my error; and frightened almost out of my senses, I turned +about to find myself face to face with a squatty, florid-featured +Amazon, whose _dishabille_ indicated that she had rather exceeded +the examiner’s customary directions to strip only to the waist. With an +impromptu word of apology, I was making a hasty exit, when she snarled, +“Can you _beat_ it!” + +At the fourth desk I was called at the end of two hours, and they +undertook a thorough examination of my eyes, ears, nose, and possibly +my throat--I don’t remember. I do remember wondering again what all +this wearisome routine had to do with my kidney; also that I was +absolutely empty and exhausted. I recollect, too, that it was 2:30 +P. M. and I hadn’t had a bite to eat since the morning before; +so I pocketed the other envelopes till the following day and went to my +hotel next door, where I found the dining room “closed from 2:30 until +six o’clock.” + +Next morning when I went to dispose of my two remaining envelopes I +discovered that the first one called for what is known as the blood +urea test--where they jab a needle-pointed syringe into a vein in the +arm and draw off quantities of blood. Then, as if they suspect you +of holding back on them, they send you into another room where they +puncture the lobe of the ear, drain off more blood--if you have any +left--and store it away in glass tubes labeled with your name and +number. + +The young lady at the desk gave me a numbered card--number 6, I recall, +for I was early. “Take a chair,” she said as she wrote number 7 on a +slip for the man behind me. I sat there an hour or so, studying the +faces of the crowd and listening to the monotonous “Take a chair,” when +a nurse opened a nearby door and called out numbers one to six. The +first six of us filed into a small anteroom where we were requested to +remove our coats and roll up the left sleeve. Through the door leading +into an adjoining room we could see a number of nurses in uniform, and +on a table near the door were several strange looking instruments, +glass containers, etc. Extending past the left side of the entrance +we could see about eighteen inches of what seemed to be an operating +table, and altogether the interior did not look inviting. + +Number one, a tall hardy Scotchman, was soon called and as he stretched +himself on the table we could see his feet projecting over the end +at the doorway. For a moment all eyes and ears were strained, then +suddenly a heavy groan issued from within, accompanied by a violent +swinging and jerking of the patient’s feet. Presently the legs dropped, +and after a few convulsive twitches the feet hung limp over the table +end. From what we could see, it looked as if the nurses had won the +first fall, and had the victim’s shoulders pinned to the mat. Among the +five waiting occupants in the anteroom was a rather pale looking chap +who stood for a moment with wide-staring eyes, then suddenly gathering +up his hat and coat he exclaimed, “Here’s where I quit!” At which he +jerked open the door and disappeared. + +At the desk where I had postponed my appointment the day before I spent +two hours waiting and another half hour going through some sort of +heart test; then for a circulation test they kept me another hour with +one foot and leg thrust into a covered vessel of water, which threw +me into a state of nervous apprehension by continually bubbling as if +it were boiling. This operation was supervised by a vivacious little +nurse who kept track of my pulse; and observing my anxiety, she did her +best to engage my attention by relating a tragic chapter of the story +of her life. She timed the story so that it ended coincidentally with +the circulation test; then she lifted the cover, tested the water with +a thermometer, and assured me it was cool; also that the flesh on my +leg was still intact. I thanked her and said it was the most enjoyable +examination I had had. + +Following this I hurried through a fifteen minute luncheon, and spent +three hours waiting for my doctor. + +“I observe you are no less a humorist than a physician,” I said, +remembering the loss of my breakfast and luncheon the day before. +“You gave me a two days’ job to perform before breakfast.” Aside from +provoking a flicker of a smile this did not change the gravity of his +countenance in the least. He asked me a number of new questions, about +everything except the part that troubled me. Whenever I asked about my +kidney he always answered by asking me about something else--on the +theory, perhaps, that having the kidney safely quarantined, he was +interested solely in exploring for new trouble. + +When he inquired about my stomach I was prepared for him, for I had +been forewarned as to the rigors of this examination, which consists of +swallowing the nozzle end of a rubber hose and forcing a quantity of +dry bread crumbs down alongside it, then with the hose dangling from +your mouth you take your place in the line and wait for the food to +digest. By means of a pumping device on the outer end of the hose they +test the contents of your stomach every half hour or so to see how you +are getting along. I emphasized the fact that my digestive organs were +in perfect working order and would rival the gizzard of an ostrich. +Thus after an eloquent protest I escaped the dreadful stomach test. + + + + + THE CYSTOSCOPIC TRAP + + +The doctor tapped his desk thoughtfully for a moment, then suddenly +his face lit up with some brilliant thought and he wrote out orders +for five more examinations. Though I had won my point I didn’t like +the contented smile with which he handed them to me. I went out +felicitating myself on having cleverly side-stepped the stomach test, +but a few hours later I discovered the cause of his merriment, for I +walked right into another, much worse--a cystoscopic examination--where +they insert something that feels like a piece of rusty barbed wire into +the bladder and up through the ureter into the kidney. Affixed to the +inner end of this ingenious apparatus--which has an opening through the +center--there is a tiny electric light bulb, by means of which they +get a view of the interior furnishings. To facilitate this they dilate +the parts by pumping in air, soda, transparent acids and suchlike +pain-producing inventions. + +The process of exploring by alternately probing, twisting, pumping and +expanding the inside membraneous walls of the kidney is unpityingly +pursued as long as the victim remains conscious; and up to this point +is as far as I am able to give an account of the performance. In fact +there is no use attempting further to describe it, because no printable +language can do it justice. + +They don’t like to give an anesthetic in this case, for the reason +that you can suffer more and they claim they can get better results +without it. It’s like the old-fashioned idea that in confinement cases +anything given to mitigate the pain is apt to injure the child. The +only near-humorous feature that I discovered in the whole procedure was +the remark of one of the examining physicians, that he didn’t think it +would hurt--much. + +There was a pet expression that he used repeatedly: whenever he gave +the vitals a vigorous probe that involuntarily tightened every muscle +and nearly lifted me off the operating table he would say, “Now +_relax_, please.” + +I asked why they called it an examination instead of an operation. +He said it sounded less painful; and if the patients knew it were +an operation they would either refuse to take it, or else insist on +being etherized. When it was over, the only report I could get was, +that it was “satisfactory” (to them at least), and that the kidney was +“still functioning.” They gave me another bottle of castor oil and +put me to bed for twenty-four hours to recuperate and muster strength +for the next examination. The doctor assured me that castor oil was +very “cleansing,” and he warned me that any substitute might prove +injurious. I didn’t think to inquire if he had an interest in the +drugstore where they sold it. + +After recovering from this and the four examinations that followed I +felt that every part of me had been subjected to a scrutiny as thorough +as it was painful, and I became positively convinced that whatever else +ailed me, I was threatened with sheer nerve exhaustion. I never dreamed +there were so many painfully expert methods of examining the interior +of a human being. + + + + + YOU NEVER DISCOVER IF YOU HAVE PASSED OR FLUNKED YOUR EXAMINATIONS + + +The next time I saw the doctor he handed me another batch of envelopes, +which I apologetically declined. Having just come from a very +disagreeable and seemingly unnecessary ordeal, for which I had waited +several hours, I was in a state of hostile rebellion. It was like being +repeatedly put on trial for crimes of which you are innocent; and I +decided that as long as I could get no information whatever about my +kidney, or indeed anything else, it were better to let the remainder of +my organs rest as long as they were at ease. + +“Doctor,” said I, “I’ve already explained to you what my trouble +is, and if you are putting me through these third degree maneuvers +merely for the sake of killing time while the X-ray pictures are being +developed, I prefer to choose some less heroic diversion. I’m not +concealing any ailment from you and I don’t care to waste any more of +my time or yours hunting for something that seems to bother you more +than it does me.” + +The doctor protested vigorously; he seemed to regard my attitude as +nothing less than mutiny. He declared that all these tests, and a +great many more, were absolutely necessary to complete the records +of my case; and that if I refused to continue there was grave danger +of annulling all the good that had been accomplished. I said that if +any important discovery had been made I’d like to be let in on the +secret. That, he said, would be contrary to the rules. I insisted +that being the owner of the kidney, I was entitled to know something +about the reasons, or at least the results, of all this grilling +process; and as for the sealed verdicts of their examinations, they +meant nothing whatever to me; that what I came there for was to have +my kidney X-rayed, not to be fluoroscoped and dissected from head to +foot. Seeing that the reports on all the tests and examinations were +written in medical terms, and that they were alike inaccessible and +incomprehensible to me, I was not disposed to contribute the additional +time and money necessary to make a complete set of historical records +in which I had no interest or understanding. + +“But our records are a valuable contribution to medical science,” he +argued. + +“In that case,” said I, “those who are interested in such matters can +provide their own subjects for clinical experimentation. As for me, my +tastes run in other channels.” + +At this point I am reminded that one day while waiting near one of +the appointment desks I overheard a spirited conversation between two +patients who were trying to figure out why it was that for ten days +they had both been taking the same identical examinations, one for a +swelling in the ear, the other for a dislocated knee-cap. Finally one +of them reached the conclusion that “in a laundry all shirts, whether +dirty or clean, are run through the same process.” + +Although I fell somewhat short of the graduating point, I went far +enough to discover that this great research-academy for bodily ailments +is not devoid of interest for those of boundless patience and physical +endurance, who have a penchant for scientific exploration. It is a +tremendous human dissecting organization which runs with the precision +of clockwork and is fed daily by hundreds of recruits from every state +in the union and every civilized country on earth. It is the Mecca for +thousands of people who enjoy searching their systems for the seat of +some indefinite, unlocatable disorder, either real or imaginary, and +for all such persons it must be a satisfying resort, since it provides +every known mechanism and device for exploring, testing and tormenting +the human anatomy. And those who survive the entire course have the +recompense of knowing they have been thoroughly castor-oiled and +overhauled. + +After much persuasion on my part, and many expressions of surprise +and regret on the part of the diagnostician, I finally succeeded in +arranging an appointment with the chief urologist for the next day. +From the appointed time I waited two or three hours, expecting the +while to get a reprimand for my stubbornness; but to my surprise the +distinguished Doctor Braasch greeted me as cordially as if he were +going to present me with a diploma of good health and a magna cum laude +degree for good behavior. Though his geniality appeared to lack nothing +in sincerity, I had a strange presentiment that he had something “up +his sleeve”; and with some anxiety I inquired what my examinations and +blood tests had disclosed. At this his countenance became grave. So did +mine. + + + + + THE SHOCKING DISCOVERY + + +After going hurriedly through a collection of “reports” lying before +him on the desk he rendered his opinion in this-wise: The summing up +of all the reports--as far as my examinations had extended--led to the +discovery that my trouble was located in my left kidney! + +I was on the point of making some jaunty remark about their having +wasted a lot of time and labor in finding out what I had told them +at the beginning, when he showed me the X-ray pictures, revealing a +condition of the kidney which called for an operation. This discovery +having been made in my first examination, all the others seemed a +mere waste of time and effort. But I was less disturbed about past +events than I was over the prospects of the future. The suggestion of +an operation, coming unexpectedly, gave me a queer jolt, not easily +described. It seemed more like a bad dream than a reality. Without +the remotest idea that any such action would be necessary I had made +my plans to return East in a few days; and having felt no pain or +inconvenience for more than a month it was impossible to adjust myself +to the thought of an operation. A man with a violent toothache has a +lessened dread of the dentist; and a griping pain in the midriff or +in the appendix quarter mitigates the terror of seeing the doctor; but +for a fellow in perfectly good health and spirits to go voluntarily and +submit himself to being cut open is quite another matter. + +When I reported the verdict to my family, to my utter amazement they +seemed not in the least surprised; indeed they were somewhat jubilant +that it was no worse. My suggestion to put off the operation till I +could think it over met with a storm of protest; the whole family +party were of one voice in declaring that as long as it had to be done +sometime it must be done immediately while I was in good health. They +would all stay with me, play with me, and keep me constantly amused. +With the late scientific discoveries in surgery, all contributing to +the safety and comfort of the patient, there was nothing to worry +about. In short, after the first shock it would be a regular outing +for me. One might have supposed they were trying to inveigle me into +going to a circus or a football game. Their arguments were seconded +and supported by a man we had met at the hotel, who chimed in with +the joyful news that he had just been through a similar operation and +although, minus one kidney, he never enjoyed such good health in all +his life. Without wishing him the least harm, I almost regretted that +he felt so well. + +We talked with the chief urologist, who joined enthusiastically in +their cheerful persuasions; but somehow I couldn’t seem to fall in with +their light-hearted view of things. It’s remarkable what a trifling +matter an operation is--to the other fellow. They all seemed to regard +the act of cutting me open as being no more serious than that of +manicuring a broken fingernail. + +Any married man knows how difficult it is to hold his own against +the arguments of _one_ woman; and to stand out against a whole +bevy of them requires a species of fortitude of which no normal man +is possessed. Being hopelessly in the minority, both as to numbers +and argumentative force, I appealed to Doctor Braasch and asked if +the operation couldn’t be postponed a few months or a year without +endangering my health. For a moment he seemed to weaken slightly in +favor of the losing side, and admitted that it probably could; but the +women insisted that it couldn’t. Having made up their minds there was +going to be an operation, they would hear to nothing else, and declared +that I was only delaying the performance with needless discussion. + +I said, “I don’t want any operation; that isn’t what I came here for.” + +My wife said, “Maybe you didn’t know it, but that’s exactly what you +did come here for. I know a lot of things that you know nothing about. +And it’s much better you shouldn’t know.” + +She had kept in touch with my diagnostician, and I wondered if he had +initiated her into some of the clinical secrets in order to punish me +for insubordination. I didn’t ask what it was she knew, nor did it +make much difference. Whatever a woman may know, it does not alter the +fact that she wants what she wants. And if her wants call for no more +than the loss of a kidney, it’s easier to accommodate her than it is to +oppose her wishes. Therefore, with the family and the clinical staff +arrayed against me there wasn’t much use arguing. Nobody supported my +side: I was like a lone defendant facing a “packed” jury, solid for +conviction. + +The women were convinced that it was such a trivial affair, that they +all wished they could take the job off my hands. They were astonished +that under the circumstances I should be so obstinate in refusing this +opportunity of having Doctor Will Mayo operate on me. The result was, +I was made to feel more like a slacker than a hero. What a pity it is, +I thought, that those who like such things cannot have their tastes +gratified! I wished the kidney would kick up again so I could get +thoroughly sore and disgusted with it; but it lay there as quiet as a +mouse in the corner--as if it heard what was going on. I could almost +hear it whisper, “Stick to your guns, old pal, I’ll be a good kidney +in future.” But in a moment of weakness I asked the doctor how long it +would take. + +“It means only ten days to two weeks in bed and one more to convalesce. +Yes, Doctor ‘Will’ can operate on you day after tomorrow morning.” That +settled it. At four o’clock the next afternoon, with the mercury thirty +below zero, my family accompanied me to the hospital. + + + + + “ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE--” + + +Have you ever been left at a strange hospital in the afternoon or +evening of a cold, gloomy day, to be prepared for an operation early +next morning? It starts the goose flesh on me even now when I recall +seeing the door close behind my family as they left the room when the +visitors’ hours were over. I was alone--and lonesome. Here is where +the stern realities of life press down hard upon you and you call in +all the reserves of your courage to meet them. It is a case where a +fellow is almost justified in feeling sorry for himself. I felt as I +imagine poor old Philoctetes must have felt when his companions sailed +away and abandoned him on the deserted Island of Lemnos, there to nurse +his snake-bitten ankle in painful solitude. I was even worse off than +Philoctetes: I didn’t have so much as a pain to keep me company. + +In a few minutes an attractive nurse came in and looked me over with a +quick appraising eye. + +“I’m to be your day nurse,” she said. + +“Thank you,” I said; “I hope you’ll like me.” She said she’d be on duty +till seven, and come back at seven in the morning. For my “supper” she +said I might have a “light tray”; then she went out. Presently she +returned, bringing a tray with a miniature dish of light cereal. That +was all the rules permitted me to have. It was carefully concealed +beneath a white napkin, probably to keep the aerial bacilli from +nesting in it on the way in. When I had eaten it I glanced up with an +eager, hungry look, in comparison with which Oliver Twist must have +appeared contentedly well fed. + +“Next course,” I said, with a maudlin attempt at facetiousness. + +She shook her head. “You’ve had all the rules allow. I’m sorry, but--” + +“But you’re not sorry enough to give me any more--is that it?” + +“Your next course will be castor oil.” + +“But I’ve already had it--bottles of it!” I protested. “It’s all +they’ve fed me the past ten days.” That made no difference; the orders +called for it, and there was no alternative but to take it. + +“I _hate_ the damn stuff!--Haven’t you some substitute?” I pleaded. + +“There is no substitute,” she said with an air of finality that closed +the argument. + +She removed the tray, then set to work getting me ready for the night. +She unfastened my shoes, took them off, unbuttoned me and shunted me +into a suit of hospital pajamas, as if I were already an invalid. It +was hours before my usual bedtime, but I made no protest. In fact my +powers of opposition had been worn down to a point where it no longer +seemed worth while objecting to anything. Once before I had been in +a hospital a few days and learned my lesson in submissiveness. In a +hospital one soon learns to obey everybody, for every attendant, even +down to the meanest orderly, is clothed with an authority not to be +questioned by any invalid intruder. A man may be a czar in his own home +(that is, if he’s single), but let him fall into the clutches of the +doctors, nurses and hospital authorities and he becomes the most humble +milk-fed subject on earth. The moment he undertakes to assert himself +he is sure to run afoul of some iron-clad rule, and like a captive bird +beating its head against the bars of its cage he learns the utter +futility of resistance. + +I lay there trying to chirk up my spirits by contemplating the future +joys of convalescence--when a fellow can sit up in an easy chair with +a consciousness of restored sovereignty over himself; when he can +fearlessly declare his mind and tell them all to go to the--but just +then the nurse reminded me it was seven o’clock, and she was leaving +for the night. She surprised me by saying the _barber_ would soon +be in. + +“But I haven’t sent for any barber--I don’t want one.” + +“No, but that’s all been arranged for you. Good night.” And out she +went. + +It all reminded me of the newspaper accounts where we read of people +being fed, shaved and groomed for hanging or electrocution at daybreak, +except that they don’t have to take castor oil; and they are always +given plenty to eat. + +Shortly after the nurse left the barber arrived. He unwrapped his kit +and took out an old-fashioned razor. “I’ve come to shave you.” + +“Thank you, but I’m not an invalid, and I always shave myself.” + +“Yes--your face--but that ain’t where they’re goin’ to operate,” he +laughed. He cupped his palms and blew his breath on them.--“I’ll have +to thaw the frost out of these joints before I can hold a razor.” + +He was a youngish man and went about his task in a clumsy way. He +shaved--or rather scraped--my back from the waist down to the hips, +talking volubly the while. Then having turned me over, as he was +working industriously on the most ticklish part of my midsection he +confided to me that he was new at the barber business. He said he had +tried his hand on three or four ex-patients in an “undertaker’s shop,” +but I was the second “live one” he had ever “worked on.” + +“But then I’ve got to learn sometime,” he remarked carelessly, while +he tested the edge of the razor on his thumbnail. “There’s one good +thing about shaving a ‘deader,’--if you cut him he can’t holler.... +There ain’t much to shave right here,” he observed, rubbing his cold, +rough hand over the pit of my stomach, “but I’m supposed to run over it +just the same.” He hoped I would excuse him if he accidentally “cut” +or “pulled” a little. “But then I guess even if I’d nip you a bit it +wouldn’t be a thing to what they’ll do to you when they get you on the +table tomorrow morning,” he added with a snicker. + +From that on to the end of the shaving operation my feelings can +better be imagined than described. My only grain of comfort was that +his razor was so dull that if it slipped it wouldn’t cut very deep. +When he had finished he sat down on the edge of the bed and proceeded +to regale me with anecdotes and personal experiences. He had recently +been a cab driver, but business in that line was dull in winter, and +the old barber at the hospital having suddenly died he applied for +the position and the Sisters had accepted him without questioning his +qualifications. + +“I guess the old girls here think a barber’s a barber,” he laughed. +“Maybe you’ll think I’ve got a hell of a nerve, but you know when a +fellow’s up against it he can’t be choosey about a job.” + +“My friend,” said I, “you have nothing on me. A hospital patient has no +choice between a barber and a blacksmith.” + +He looked at me anxiously. “You wouldn’t squeal on me, would you?” + +“Squeal? No--I’m glad you didn’t apply for the job of house surgeon.” + +He drew a deep breath of relief. “Thanks. I hope I can get by for a few +days till I sort of get the hang o’ things.” + +At length he got up, stretched his arms and yawned. “Well, I’ll be +going. Good luck to you, old scout,” he said; “I hope by the next time +you’re operated on I’ll have the barber business down pat.” + +Next morning I was awakened at seven o’clock by my day nurse, who set +about decorating me for the operation. Those who have been through +these dismal preliminaries will need no rehearsal of the sensations; +and those who have not, had best be left in ignorance, with the hope +that they may never know. + +I wondered if I were going to meet the famous Doctor Will, or if, like +a cold-blooded executioner, he would appear and after performing his +work, disappear like a phantom at daybreak. I had heard that operating +was such an impersonal affair with him that he paid no attention +whatever to the identity of the individual he operated on, either +before or after the act; that he simply came to the operating room at +the appointed time, and with his several assistants and all the facts +in the case before him he proceeded with his work as one would carve a +roast of beef without knowing or caring anything about the critter to +which it had belonged. + +But I discovered that the Mayo brothers are not mere mechanical +butchers. On the contrary they are genial, sentimental, and +tenderhearted, to the last degree. My nurse declared that Doctor Will +was “all business”; but that “Doctor Charles makes more fun than a +circus clown.” They make the rounds at the hospital early in the +morning, meet the new patients and spend a few moments of cheerful +conversation with each one, which goes a long way toward counteracting +the dread of the trip to the operating room. + +These calls are attended with a considerable amount of impressive +ceremony. About eight o’clock the first morning I heard a tramping of +many feet in the hall outside, then suddenly, without any warning, +the door was opened, my overhead light was flashed on and the nurse +in suppressed excitement whispered, “Doctor Will!” She immediately +took her position at the head of my bed. Two men--Doctor Will’s +first assistant and the house physician--came in and took their +positions across the room, facing the entrance. Then appeared Doctor +Will, followed by two other assistants. As he approached my bed +with outstretched hand he smiled and called me by name. After a few +good-natured remarks he said, “Don’t be alarmed, we’ll have you out +in a few days.” At this he left the room, with the other four, none +of whom had spoken a word. He had a firm, quick step, strong handsome +features, and a most engaging personality. After meeting and talking +with him you feel that you have entrusted yourself to competent hands. + +An hour or so later the nurse came hurrying in with the news that +we’d been “called.” After being assured that I had no false teeth or +portable bridgework to leave behind, she hastily gave me a hypodermic +of morphine, bustled me into a wheel chair and hurried me up to the +operating room on the top floor. There under a great dome thickly +studded with electric lights, in the presence of Doctor Will and a +dozen or more gowned and masked assistants and attendants I climbed up +on the operating table, my arms were quickly folded across my chest, +and while my legs were being strapped into position the cone was placed +over my face and an angel-voiced creature murmured softly in my ear, +“Now take long deep breaths, please; it will only be a few seconds.” +I wondered if she were as beautiful as her voice. At any rate I would +gladly have postponed the operation and breathed an hour or more for +her, just to hear her talk. Her soft, musical voice seemed to move +farther away, and in the distance she was saying how nicely I was +getting on. I was about to call to her, not to go off and leave me, +but-- + +The next I knew I was back in my room looking drowsily up into the +anxious faces of my family who assured me that it was “all over.” + +“No,” I said--“they’ve just sent for me; I have to go and be operated +on.” At that I closed my eyes and slept again. I afterwards learned +that the kidney required a great deal of excavating and curetting, and +that I had been on the operating table nearly two hours. + + + + + MY ENCOUNTER WITH ADHESIVE TAPE + + +My first experience in having the wound dressed was one of the +high-lights of the whole occasion--one that requires no straining of +the memory to recall. It was indeed a masterpiece of brutality that +well deserves to be recorded in medical history; and I remember it as +the outstanding instance where my rights and feelings as a patient were +asserted with loud spontaneity, in language more forceful than polite. + +“I have a happy surprise for you,” the nurse greeted me that morning, +with a roguish twinkle in her eye; and presently one of the house +doctors came in, followed by a nurse pushing a “tea-cart” loaded +with bandages, bottles and a wicked looking assortment of probing +instruments. He set immediately to work removing my swathings, and when +he got down to the criscross network of adhesive tape he carefully +peeled up one of the corners, then without the slightest warning he +suddenly _ripped the whole thing off_, carrying with it, as I +supposed, all the skin, with the kidney and half of my insides adhering +to it. + +“You * * * damned brute!” I exploded. I added much more to the same +purpose; but that, for the moment, was all the satisfaction I got. +His calloused soul had probably been excoriated many times before. He +merely smiled and inquired if it hurt! Ever since then the mere thought +of adhesive tape makes me shudder. + +From five to eight different physicians, including both the Mayo +brothers, visited me daily. Though I was not a patient of Doctor +Charles Mayo, he called on me regularly, chatted pleasantly for a few +moments, and always left with a word of cheer. + +While my progress was constantly reported to be normal, on the ninth +day I began to realize that some strange thing had “got” me--something +was certainly going wrong. The drainage tubes had been removed, my +incision was almost healed, both kidneys were said to be functioning +regularly, my temperature was reported normal (though I knew it was +not), and I was told that all blood tests and examinations indicated +that I was on the highway to recovery. Still I protested that something +had me in its deadly grip, and I began to be alarmed. I complained to +the nurse, who said I was only tired and needed sleep. I complained +to every doctor that came in, and each in turn, as if they had all +rehearsed together, said it was “only natural”; and every time I +expostulated with Doctor Will he good-naturedly turned the matter aside +with some joke. Once he said that if the fire alarm were to ring, I’d +be the first patient to jump out the window. + +While they all seemed disposed to listen to me with that kindly +forbearance usually shown to a talkative old lady in a high class +private sanitarium for feeble-minded, nobody was seriously impressed. +There was no use trying to argue with anyone; they simply listened +tolerantly as long as it amused me to talk. Indeed the harassment of my +body and mind was such that I sometimes wondered if I had become an +inmate instead of a patient. + +They said the records showed I was getting well, and that’s all there +was to it. Whatever I said or however I felt seemed not to alter the +purely scientific fact that my condition was normal. + +There are certain reactions that customarily follow certain operations; +and in common practice the patient is not supposed to develop any +complications not on the regular calendar. The signposts were all set +indicating my lines of recovery, and all I had to do was to keep within +bounds and follow directions. But some deadly microbe having intervened +to upset their calculations, I was unable to eat a mouthful of food, +or to adjust my mental and physical reactions to the prescribed order +of things. In other words, theoretically I was getting well, but +practically I was becoming a physical wreck. + +About this time I received a call one afternoon from the pastor of a +church in the town, who having read in the local newspaper that I was +from Boston probably jumped to the conclusion that I must be in need of +spiritual aid. He was a soft-spoken, amiable, benevolent appearing man, +and regretted to find me laid so low. Seeing that I was too sick to +indulge in much general conversation he very considerately came at once +to the point and asked if I were a believer. When I assured him that I +was, he inquired if I felt prepared for any eventuality. + +“My friend,” said I, “no one has a more profound veneration for your +cloth than I have, and you show the true Christian spirit in coming +to see me; but I am decidedly dubious about death-bed repentance. +Religion, it seems to me, is something that should be acquired and +practiced in health, not in sickness. A soldier who has been a +worthless slacker in health can be of little service to his general +when he lies at the point of death. This last moment contrition makes +salvation too easy to be genuine.” + +His answer was that those who came late to the vineyard received the +same pay as the ones who came earlier; but my mind was too muddled to +comprehend how this applied to those who remained away till they were +too ill or decrepit to be of any service at all; and having delivered +my little sermon I was not disposed to argue the matter any further. + +“My dear brother,” he said at length, “nothing is more uncertain than +life. You are making a brave fight, but if by some hard decree of fate +you should be called to your final accounting, do you feel that you are +prepared to meet your--” + +“Yes, I feel quite prepared,” said I, and without stopping to realize +how it might shock his religious sensibilities I added--“But if you saw +a man in a pasture running for a fence with a raging bull close at his +heels there wouldn’t be much use stopping him to inquire if he were +prepared for the consequences in case he stumbled.” + +A few days later, though my head still reeled and I felt the slowly +increasing ravages of some sort of poisoning, I became restless for +a change of environment. The hospital rooms were equipped with an +electrical signaling instrument that clicked busily night and day, and +nearly drove me mad. Then came Christmas Eve, with a group of noisy +merry-makers parading up and down the corridors, singing Christmas +carols and hallelujah songs. It was after visitors’ hours, and my night +nurse having gone out, perhaps to join in the festivities, I lay there +conjuring up melancholy thoughts, and contrasting the wretchedness +of that night with the happiness of former times. Whether it was the +peculiar nature of my illness or what, I cannot say, but Christmas +music seemed utterly out of tune with my situation, and I can recall +nothing that ever made me so blue, either before or after. + +At length Doctor Will submitted to my entreaties, and so they bundled +me up, put me onto a stretcher and took me in an ambulance down to +the Kahler hospital, where I was placed on the convalescent floor. +This brought me more conveniently near my family, who were living at +the Kahler hotel, in the same building with the hospital. For the +first two days I was reduced to one nurse, who did twenty-hour duty; +that is, she was off from two till six P. M., and during this +interval various members of my family took turns at entertaining me +by trying to convince me that the doctors, nurses and everybody else +knew more than I did. Now that I was listed among the convalescents, +they couldn’t understand what made me persist in being so stubborn +about getting well. Indeed doctors, nurses, friends and relatives all +boosted me along and although I had lost nearly thirty pounds--mostly +from my face, it seemed--they all insisted that I was improving rapidly +and “looking fine.” Several letters and telegrams came from friends +congratulating me on my rapid recovery, and everybody seemed jubilant, +except me. + +“Where do they all get their glad news?” I asked. “It’s the only +information I have of any improvement. Don’t try to fool yourselves or +me--I’m _sick_! Call it stubbornness or whatever you will, but I +tell you, something has _got_ me!” + +Every blood test and every examination in the regular technical +routine showed me to be perfectly normal; and yet, though I strained +every nerve and muscle to justify these cheerful views, I was still +conscious of the gradually tightening coils of some deadly venom. But +the physicians still refused to take my complaints seriously; and for +the life of me I couldn’t explain just how I felt. I simply knew that +something had gone wrong, and that I was steadily losing ground in an +unequal fight. About the only sensation I could describe was that I +felt a constant whirling in my head; and the skin on my head and face +felt like a tight-fitting leather mask. I ate nothing and slept very +little, except under morphine. Whenever anyone spoke to me or looked +at me I felt an impulse to burst out crying. I was assured, however, +that all this was a perfectly natural result of the operation. + +About this time I developed an excruciating pain in my right hip, +which admitted of no comfort, day or night; and when the orthopedic +specialist had probed deep into the hip joint and drawn off whatever +he could find--which wasn’t much--I discovered that this, also, was +a natural consequence of the operation. I learned (indirectly) that +I might perhaps have a stiff hip joint the remainder of my life, but +they advised me it were better not to worry about it, seeing that it +was not an uncommon result of a kidney operation. Unable to figure +out what communication a lacerated kidney on the left side could have +with a stiff hip on the opposite side, I asked the nurse; but for all +I learned I might as well have asked the orderly. So I gave it up--as +you have to do with all hospital problems that you attempt to solve by +questioning those in attendance. + +To draw me off the subject my new nurse declared that my worst trouble +was a bad case of the “grunts”; and when I reported this to Doctor +Will, with the suggestion that he add it to my list of symptoms, he +passed it over with the usual remark that it was “only natural.” +Whatever I did, or said, or felt, or thought, seemed not to concern +anyone, because it was always perfectly natural; indeed it seemed as +if I were the most perfectly normal and natural patient in the whole +institution. + + + + + THE ATMOSPHERE OF DISSIMULATION + + +I sometimes wondered what there is about the atmosphere of a hospital +that makes everybody prevaricate. If you ask what your temperature is +you get an evasive or dishonest answer; if you ask a civil question +about yourself, or anybody, or anything whatsoever, they all--including +your own people--seem leagued together in a solemn compact to deceive +you. And they justify their deceit on the ground that truthful answers +are “bad for the morale of the patient,” who is supposed to submit to +everything without question, obey all orders without objection, and +interfere with no local procedure. You hire the doctor, suffer all the +torments, and pay all the bills; yet you are given but little occasion +to feel that you are in any other respect regarded as a human entity. +You are merely a patient--known in hospital parlance by the number on +the door of your room. If you ask an intelligent question about your +own condition, the answer makes you feel as if you were prying into +their affairs. If you are feverish and irritable, and feel anxiety and +suspicion because you are being obviously deceived, you must content +yourself with believing that your attendants think they know better +than you about your condition and what is good for you. + +The first night at the Kahler hospital, my nurse on retiring said she +was a light sleeper, and to call her when I wanted anything in the +night. She would get up at seven and go to breakfast. Under a strong +opiate I slept fairly well through the latter part of the night, and +waking a little before seven, with a throbbing hip, and parched mouth +and throat, I attempted to wake her for a glass of water (her bed was +behind a screen across the room). + +“Miss Page!” I called in a loud whisper. No answer. Then louder--“Miss +_Page_!” Still no answer.... “Miss Page, did you say you were a +light sleeper?” About that time I felt like sneezing; and, I thought, +“if I can put this over strong it will surely bring her to.” So I drew +in a tremendous inhalation and let out a blast that seemed to shake +the room. When the reverberations had died away I listened, and the +death-like silence gave me a quaky feeling. + +Becoming alarmed, I reached for the telephone on the stand beside my +bed and asked the operator to ring my bell vigorously, as I couldn’t +wake my nurse. The ensuing clatter sounded like a fire alarm. + +“My God, the woman’s dead!” I thought. When I could stand the noise and +suspense no longer I cut in and called to the operator--“Send someone +up quick; there’s a dead nurse in my room!” + +In a short time there was a rush of feet coming along the corridor, +then the door was opened, the lights flashed on and several excited +people ran in. + +“Behind the screen!” I said. They all scurried across to the scene of +the supposed fatality. But the bed was empty! Half an hour later the +nurse came in smiling. “I got up early,” she said, “and slipped out +while you were asleep. Did you miss me?” + +We now approach the scenes that bordered narrowly on tragedy. Strangely +enough I had had much to do with tragedies the past year. I read +twenty-one of them by Æschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, but little +did I dream how near I was to becoming the central figure in a tragic +drama with a modern hospital setting. + +A couple of days or so after the nurse episode Dr. Braasch came to see +me. He said he was making a special study of my case, and for some time +he listened attentively while I endeavored to explain how I felt. For +the first time I was encouraged to find that I had finally impressed +someone with the idea that all was not going well. With the parting +remark that he would call again in a few hours, he went out, leaving me +in a state of wonderment as to what the next move would be. A little +later, when Doctor Will made his customary morning call, he talked at +unusual length about the operation. He said his first impression on +seeing the infected kidney was to remove it; but on second thought, and +acting on the advice of his assistants, he decided to try to save it. +Therefore after spending nearly two hours cleaning out and repairing +it he stitched it up, put it back and sewed up the incision. He still +felt that his second judgment was correct. I disagreed with him, for I +continued to grow steadily worse. + +“Doctor, that kidney must have _died_ of the operation. I wish to +God you had taken it out and thrown it into the sewer; then I should +have been well rid of it,” I said in despair. “I’m poisoned, I tell +you, I’m _poisoned_!” + +But in his calm dialectical way he went on to explain several reasons +justifying his action, and others accounting for my condition. Finally +he convinced me that he was right; that my condition was only a natural +outcome of such an operation, and all I had to do was set my mind on +getting well. After he left I called in the family and said we’d play +auction bridge; that what I needed was action and diversion. They were +thunderstruck at seeing me climb out of bed and call for my dressing +gown and slippers. Though my head was in a constant whirl we played for +an hour, when Doctor Braasch came in and dropped into a chair, looking +rather troubled. + + + + + THE CALAMITOUS VERDICT + + +“What worries you, Doctor?” I asked. For a moment he looked at me, +perhaps wondering if it were best to make a clean breast of matters; +then without any mollifying preliminaries he said: “That kidney +will have to come out; it’s your only chance. Septicemia and uremic +poisoning have set in, and with the utmost haste we shall be none too +soon.” (Any physician will understand what a meager chance a patient +has under these conditions.) + +No judge in pronouncing the death sentence on a criminal ever dealt +a more staggering blow. It fell upon me like an earthquake upon a +tottering structure, and my emaciated physique proved unequal to the +shock. The whirling in my head suddenly increased and in my weakened +highly nervous condition when I thought of cutting in through the newly +healed wound, an oppressive darkness settled over everything and for a +brief space I passed out of the interview. When I came to, the first +thing I noticed was that the air seemed fresh, and the ceiling had gone +back to its normal height. Doctor Braasch regarded me with an anxious +inquiring look. + +“Make it as quick as possible,” I said. “Lucky you discovered it.” + +“It was _you_ who made the discovery,” he frankly admitted. He +then gave his orders to the nurse. Twenty minutes later I was on +the operating table; Doctor Will and his staff, with a considerable +audience of physicians, all in white masks and gowns, were standing +in readiness, and a nurse was saying, “Now relax and take deep +breaths.” The urgency was such that they broke all precedents of the +institution, since kidney operations were never done there, and Doctor +Will never operates in the afternoon, after operating in the morning. +A dozen or so doctors from the clinic having heard of the _affaire +extraordinaire_ came in to view the proceedings. + +Were it possible to relate in detail what followed the next few +days it would only prolong agonizing scenes which would be more +depressing than diverting to both the reader and the writer. If it be +difficult for one with sympathetic tendencies to read of such harrowing +experiences, it is doubly hard to write about them. + +They changed my nurse for two others more skilled in surgical cases. +For the first time Doctor Will refrained from his customary jokes, and +whenever he called his face wore a look of seriousness. He was plainly +disturbed; he was also unusually tender and solicitous. + +From two or three sources my wife heard that kidney operations do queer +things to people, and some Gloomy Gus assured her that even if I got +well I’d be so peevish that no one could ever live with me. And on the +fourth day after the second operation she chanced to hear one nurse +remark to another in the corridor outside my door--“Isn’t it too bad +that Doctor Will’s patient in Number 88 is going out!” + +Nowadays, hospital patients don’t _die_; they merely “_go +out_.” + +At night my sleep was broken and constantly haunted by all sorts of +weird dreams and illusions. If there is anything more boresome than the +act of listening to a detailed account of somebody else’s operation, it +is to lend an ear to some fantastic dream; but seeing that the ancient +writers used to lay great stress on these somnific aberrations I will +risk telling of a curious one that still haunts my memory. I dreamed +that someone had brought me a number of small sleep storage tanks, +resembling oxygen tanks, and told me that while I was getting my best +sleep in the early part of the night I should sleep them all full, then +later when the opiate wore off I would have a reserve supply to draw +upon. I took the tanks one by one, slept them full and after capping +them securely I laid them down carefully in a row. Later when I became +semi-wakeful and restless I took up one of the tanks to extract some +sleep from it; but to my amazement the cap had been removed and it was +empty. I examined the others and found the sleep had all been drawn +off. For a moment I wondered who had tampered with my tanks; but the +villain was not far to seek, for lying serenely there beside the last +tank was a husky looking kidney, sound asleep! + + + + + FLIRTING WITH THE SHADOWS + + +Reluctant as I am to dwell upon the sad farewells incidental to the +departure of souls from this sphere, I feel that the history of this +episode would be incomplete without some account of the circumstances +and personal sensations attending the crisis. My strength having been +seriously impaired by the first operation and the resultant attack of +poisoning, after the second operation I sank lower and lower, until +the physicians practically abandoned all hope. And though I was kept +in ignorance of their diagnostic conclusions I sensed the gravity +of the situation both from my own feelings and from the mysterious +actions of those about me; and every time I closed my eyes it was with +a feeling of final submission to what seemed the inevitable. Death, +which in the distance I had always pictured with unmitigated horror, +seemed now to have lost much of its terror; and though its proximity +gave me a ghastly feeling, in a way it appeared more like a messenger +of relief than a harbinger of ill. Sometimes in my desultory sleep +its phantom-like skeleton form seemed to move stealthily about the +room, its sunken eyes steadily fixed upon me; and once I imagined it +reposing beside me in the bed. The sensation was so shockingly uncanny +that I involuntarily put out my hand; and fancy my astonishment when I +awoke to find myself clutching the arm of the night nurse, whom I had +startled out of a comfortable doze at my bedside! + +On the fifth day it was decided that I had but a few hours left, and +that a transfusion of mercurochrome was the last forlorn hope. It +was a hazardous alternative and would either kill or cure in about +forty minutes; but if it killed there was nothing to lose, for I was +lost anyway; if it cured there was everything to gain. A well known +physician, afflicted with septicemia in a neighboring hospital, had +taken it the day before, and died in thirty minutes. My wife asked one +of Doctor Will’s assistants for his honest opinion on the probable +outcome in my case; to which he answered, “He still has a fighting +chance. If he doesn’t die of uremic convulsions inside of forty +minutes, he may recover.” + +My family were brought together at the bedside.... Lying in a state of +semi-consciousness, I remember seeing one of the doctors approach the +bed with a huge bottle of reddish fluid (mercurochrome) to which a long +rubber tube was attached. Having no idea of what they were going to do, +and mistaking this for the usual pink mixture of loganberry juice and +castor oil, which I supposed they wanted me to drink through the tube, +I closed my eyes and set my teeth. Presently someone raised my arm, +then I felt the needle inserted, and when the fluid began to circulate +through the veins, my limbs became numb; and as the paralytic feeling +crept over my body it seemed as if the bed were slowly moving from +under me. Then I imagined my head was in the hub of a great horizontal +wheel which spun around with terrific speed for a while, and gradually +slowed down till it barely moved. Like the propeller of an aeroplane, +its momentum held me aloft over a deep chasm, and when the speed +slackened I could feel myself descending, feet first, into the depths. +I reached frantically about endeavoring to find something to cling to, +but there were no supports, and startled at the increasing rapidity +of my descent I opened my eyes--as one will awake from a terrifying +dream--and stared about, wondering why so many people had gathered in +my room. One physician clung to my pulse, while the other attendants +stood about with bowed heads. Suddenly I caught the meaning of it all, +and as I closed my eyes resignedly I felt my loved one’s tears on my +face. With a final conclusion that all was over, I remember whispering, +“Good-by; no flowers, please.” I knew nothing more for two days. + +I have heard that persons approaching the gates of Paradise have +been known to hear music and angel voices beckoning from within; +and although fully conscious of the fact that I was close upon the +portals of eternity I could catch not the slightest glimpse or sound +of anything beyond; which convinces me that there is at such times no +physical communication whatever between this world and Elysium, unless +perchance it happened that I was nearing the wrong gate. + +During the critical forty-minute interval, while five physicians +stood waiting the outcome, one of them quietly recommended that any +absent relatives be promptly notified. It was a toss-up with the Grim +Reaper--and I won; though the victory was not assured for several days. + +Later when I inquired after a missing member of our party I was told +that about the time of the crisis he had been dispatched posthaste for +home to shovel the snow off the family lot. + + + + + THE ROAD TO RECOVERY + + +The rest of the story is in a somewhat lighter vein. When they first +lifted me from the bed and sat me in an easy chair for a few minutes, +I felt as I imagine a jelly-fish might feel after being stepped on. My +head wobbled about from one shoulder to the other like that of a newly +hatched bird, and altogether I felt as if I had scarcely enough stamina +to begin life over again. I well remember the comment of my nurse, +who was so delighted with having “pulled me through” and at seeing me +up in a chair that for a moment her Irish humor overcame the art of +simulation. After viewing me for some seconds with an estimating eye +she honestly confessed that I looked like the last piece at a remnant +sale. + +As I looked out of the window and saw figures moving about on the +streets it seemed as if I had migrated to some alien world, where +everything was topsy-turvy, and I asked the nurse why everybody was +walking backward. + +She smiled and shook her head.--“You’ve been very ill.” + +My head went round and round, as if it were on a swivel. A blustering +snowstorm was in progress and as the figures scurried about on the +street I was puzzled to know why they all faced the wrong way--how +they could tell where they were going, or when they arrived at their +destination. I was barely conscious of having once lived somewhere, on +some sphere, and I vaguely wondered if I should now have to begin life +anew and learn everything all over again, or if I could pick up the +broken threads and start where I had left off. + +My wife having heard that I was sitting up, came in. We talked for +a while, and somehow she appeared relieved to find how little I +remembered of what had happened the past few weeks. She seemed +glad that I was going to get well, perhaps because--among other +considerations--it lessened the burden on her conscience for having +pushed me into the first operation; and by way of making amends for +this, and also for scolding me about my stubborn refusal to get well +before the second operation, she said I had been a very good patient; +that I had been right all the while, and I knew more than all the +doctors, nurses and everyone else--even including herself--about what +ailed me. After this tremendous concession--which made me a little +suspicious that something had gone awry and some bad news must be +impending--she asked if there was anything I wanted. This seemed odd, +after getting used to being _told_ what I wanted. + +“Yes,” I said, “I want a new room.” + +“But you have a nice room, with plenty of air, light, private bath and +everything.” + +“I don’t like it,” I said. + +“What is there you don’t like about it?” + +By this time I was becoming tired from overexertion. She afterwards +told me that I looked wearily about, then resting my eyes on the +paneled oak door I said,-- + +“The door is upside down--I want another room.” + +In the weeks that followed I had the usual run of bad days and nights, +when things looked gloomy and hope sank low, but all things considered, +my recovery was satisfactory to the physicians, though it seemed slow, +and at times uncertain, to me. + +A few days after my first experience of sitting up, Doctor Will came in +and found me nibbling on a piece of toast--the first solid food I had +taken in many weeks--which prompted him jokingly to remark that since I +was beginning to eat, the price of my board ought to be raised. + +“Doctor,” I said, “that reminds me of something that’s been worrying me +of late. You being one of America’s greatest surgeons, naturally I have +a patriotic pride in being operated on by you; but when I came here I +had no intention of giving you a steady job cutting me open and sewing +me up. One operation at a time by a great surgeon is usually as much +as any ordinary person can stand, either physically or financially, +and my Scotch instinct warns me that you are running me into ruinous +extravagance.” + +“Never mind, my good fellow,” he said; “don’t let that bother you. We +are here to cure you, not to get your money; and when you get your bill +if it isn’t satisfactory all you need do is scratch out the amount and +fill in your own figures--whatever sum is agreeable to you, and that +will be our price.” But I was so elated over my recovery that it didn’t +occur to me to acquaint the office with this generous proposal. + + + + + SUBCONSCIOUS HALLUCINATIONS + + +It is remarkable what latent powers of reminiscence and narration are +awakened by certain species of illness. In my case these ran chiefly +along the lines of ancient history; and during the weeks of lucid or +semi-lucid intervals I nearly wore out both my night and day nurses +with Greek tragedies and Greek and Roman history and mythology. I +recited the action and described the mythical gods and heroes in no +less than a dozen Greek dramas, and at various times I discoursed at +length upon the satiric comedies of Aristophanes, the tragedies of +Euripides, the naval exploits of the great Themistocles, the eloquence +of Demosthenes, the philosophy of Socrates, and the superb sculpture +of Praxiteles. Then coming down five hundred years later to the days +of Roman grandeur, I quoted many long since forgotten passages from +Horace, Vergil and other poets and orators of the Golden Age. I +declaimed, almost word for word, a famous oration by Cicero (which I +had not read or heard since my school days, and of which I can now +recall scarcely a single line), and likewise while raving over the +epistolary attainments of Pliny the Younger I repeated the celebrated +letter he wrote to his friend Maximus on the subject of downfallen +Greece. + +Although the nurses and others who listened were dumfounded at such +harangues coming from an invalid, lying at times almost at the point +of death, they were not more astonished than I was, and still am, at +such abnormal volubility. The night nurse--a patient soul, who bore +the brunt of my hallucinations--afterwards told me she had been much +alarmed, because she had somewhere read that the lamp of genius often +flickers and throws out rays of unusual brilliance just before it +expires. + +One morning, when I was well on the way to recovery, the head nurse +looked in at the door and asked me how the “baby philosopher” was +getting along.--“When you get well you must write a book.” + +I said that was exactly what I intended doing the moment I got strong +enough to wield a pencil. By way of encouragement my day nurse--a +humorous, high-spirited Colleen--said it reminded her of an obscure +author she once had as a patient. During his illness he ranted +constantly about a wonderful story he had just conceived--one that +would make him both rich and famous; but a few days later he died +without revealing the plot to anyone but herself. + +“Bring me a pad and pencil immediately,” I ordered. She did so, and +most of this narrative was written in bed during the following weeks of +convalescence. + + + + + CONCLUSION + + +It is well known that the medical profession is constantly on the +alert for any new discoveries that will benefit suffering humanity; +and I am told that they welcome suggestions, even from laymen, that +may be helpful in achieving this end. One of the habitual aversions +that people have to clinics and hospitals is their arbitrary rules +and regulations, in complying with which patients feel that they are +obliged practically to relinquish all control over both body and mind. +Indeed I once heard a woman remark that she looked on these places as +she did on a jail. Doubtless this is an altogether wrong impression; +but nevertheless it prevails. We must assume that the first concern of +every physician is that his patients have not only the best care but a +complacent mind; and one way of helping to accomplish this desire is +for surgeons to invent some substitute for adhesive tape. And I wonder +if clinics and hospitals intend always to keep castor oil at the head +of their diet list. + +Furthermore if physicians were to establish a more mutual and candid +relationship with their patients, and authorize nurses and other +hospital attachés to treat them as rational human beings, possessed of +some knowledge of their own feelings--at least to the extent of knowing +whether they are getting better or worse--it might help to remedy a +condition which I once heard an eminent physician term “an emergent +deficiency.” + + + =TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES= + + +Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a +predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they +were not changed. + +A Table of Contents has been added for convenience. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75557 *** diff --git a/75557-h/75557-h.htm b/75557-h/75557-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2177e78 --- /dev/null +++ b/75557-h/75557-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1955 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Merely the Patient | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* General headers */ +h2 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1.5em; +} + +.nind {text-indent:0;} + +.nindc {text-align:center; text-indent:0;} + +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.space-above2 { margin-top: 2em; } +.space-below2 { margin-bottom: 2em; } + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +.spa1 { + margin-top: 1em + } + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +/* Images */ + +img {max-width: 100%; width: 100%; height: auto;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} + + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75557 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="cover" style="width: 1088px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="1088" height="2020" alt="A graphic and realistic picture of a patient semi-tragic experiences at the famous Mayo Clinic."> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc"><span class="large">MERELY THE PATIENT</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter" id="i_titlepage" style="width: 1139px;"> + <img src="images/i_titlepage.jpg" width="1139" height="1876" alt="Title page of The Trail of the Serpent written by M. E. Braddon."> +</figure> +</div> + + +<h1>MERELY<br> +THE<br> +PATIENT</h1> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2">By</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"><span class="large">HENRY HOWARD HARPER</span></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="i_logo" style="width: 203px;"> + <img src="images/i_logo.jpg" width="203" height="255" alt="decorative"> +</figure> + + +<p class="nindc">MINTON, BALCH & COMPANY<br> +NEW YORK 1930</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc">Copyright, 1930, by<br> +HENRY HOWARD HARPER</p> + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +Third Printing, February, 1932</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +<i>Printed in the United States of America by</i><br> +THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS, NEW ROCHELLE, N. Y.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tbody><tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">PREFATORY NOTE</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">A PAIN DISCOVERS ME</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">RUNNING THE GANTLET</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">THE CYSTOSCOPIC TRAP</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">YOU NEVER DISCOVER IF YOU HAVE PASSED OR FLUNKED YOUR EXAMINATIONS</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">THE SHOCKING DISCOVERY</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">“ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE—”</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">MY ENCOUNTER WITH ADHESIVE TAPE</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">THE ATMOSPHERE OF DISSIMULATION</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">THE CALAMITOUS VERDICT</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">FLIRTING WITH THE SHADOWS</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">THE ROAD TO RECOVERY</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">SUBCONSCIOUS HALLUCINATIONS</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdl">CONCLUSION</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +TO<br> +THE EIGHT DOCTORS<br> +AND NINE NURSES<br> +WHO ASSISTED,<br> +NOT IN WRITING, BUT<br> +IN MAKING THIS BOOK<br> +POSSIBLE<br> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFATORY_NOTE">PREFATORY NOTE</h2> +</div> + +<p class="nindc"> +By <span class="smcap">SAMUEL W. LAMBERT</span>, M.D.</p> + + +<p>It is an unusual privilege to look into the mind of a person afflicted +with a serious illness and learn the point of view of a patient who, +without losing confidence in his medical advisers, questions the when +and the wherefore of his treatment.</p> + +<p>In this book Mr. Henry H. Harper presents a graphic and realistic +picture to the reader. It contains the confessions of a patient to whom +the fact is very palpable that his progress from illness to health was +not all that he had been persuaded to expect when he entered upon his +medical and surgical adventure.</p> + +<p>The majority of persons who have experienced only the minor discomforts +of an appendectomy or a tonsillectomy may not fully appreciate the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +underlying importance of this masterpiece which Mr. Harper’s skillful +pencil has drawn. Their idea of an operation will be confined to a +preliminary period of worry and apprehension, an active horror of +thirty-six or seventy-two hours of pain and distress, followed by a +convalescence of two or three weeks of comfort, of visits by friends, +of a world in which the recovered patient is the central object of +attention. But Mr. Harper does not present such a commonplace picture; +for his convalescence became a disease, and almost a fatal disease at +that. One of the chief messages implied in his story is the tribute +to his skillful surgeon, and a grateful remembrance of the care and +untiring attention which pulled him through a serious blood poisoning, +and of the radical method of treatment which became necessary to insure +his recovery.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the author has written a colorful and humorous description of +his clinical and hospital experiences. There is a pertinent message +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +for every past or prospective patient. After his return from the +operating room he was subservient to the restraints of a convalescence +from a major operation; he was observant of his symptoms and anxious +to communicate his subjective feelings to his medical attendants. He +did not exaggerate his discomforts. The post-operative message of this +case portrays an interesting and exemplary lesson for every individual, +and especially every surgical patient. It is not clear how much of this +good behavior is due to overcoming the preliminary antagonism of a man +trying to escape a surgical fate, and how much to the breaking down of +a strong human will before the inexorable training of a professional +habit of thought founded on an unbending scientific routine.</p> + +<p>But the most important message in this story of a nephrectomy is +perhaps unintentional: it is of importance to the physician himself, +and here is a book which should be read by every member of the medical +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +profession.</p> + +<p>The lesson begins at the patient’s first encounter with a complete +up-to-date routine health examination. His reactions during his +journey through a modern clinic are far from placid, and not free from +a resentment—expressed with playful seriousness—which any person, +lay or professional, can easily understand. The author displays +a keen appreciation of the humorous side of the modern system of +diagnosticating disease in a scientific manner; although he does not +admire the detail. Being a layman, he cannot be expected to follow the +relation between the determination of the amount of free hydrochloric +acid in a stomach that was digesting everything without known +complaint, and a kidney which at times was the seat of a pain. Nor does +he realize that he may make a better convalescence if a blood test is +made which some scientist unknown to him, has determined can decide +whether any ancestor has had hard luck with his diseases.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Harper describes his experiences from the unusual viewpoint of an +invalid’s bed, giving the humorous impression that the joke is on him, +without realizing that all these jokes, little and big, were training +him to go to the operating room with a feeling of elation and courage +for the outcome, and there to climb on the operating table unassisted.</p> + +<p>But the physician can learn from this story what the author has taught, +all unconsciously: he can learn to omit unnecessary examinations made +purely for scientific curiosity or record alone, and not for diagnosis; +also to listen considerately to the complaints of his patients; to +appreciate that a patient’s feelings during convalescence may have more +value in determining treatment than all the physical signs of disease +or of well-being which he can discover by fingers, eyes and ears, or by +instruments of greater or less precision; to beware the use of new and +non-official remedies, even when endorsed by manufacturers of honest +intent; to look twice at remedies which are patented for the personal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +profit of an exclusive chemist or sometimes, I regret to say, for +pecuniary gain to some member of my profession.</p> + +<p>The description of the night before the first operation is much to the +point. The patient’s experience with the amateur hospital barber gives +a vibrant touch of humor to the mystery of preparing for the operating +room, which is so apt to develop into a hospital tradition even in the +best of organizations; a mystery which is, as likely as not, to hinder +the acquiring of a good morale by a patient. Mr. Harper discreetly +leaves much to the imagination concerning the gruesome details of +his stormy convalescence. But the oft-told tale of the normalcy and +expected sequence of such events as a patient is supposed to experience +and describe; the account of the bottles of castor oil he was obliged +to consume; the tale of the nurse who “died” behind a screen in his +room; the tale of the military rounds of hospital service which seem +cold but which are necessary, and which really can have a soul hidden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> +within them; the tale of the prognostic nurse who prophesied the death +of the kidney patient in “Number 88;” the tale of the first removal of +the surgical dressings after the operation; the tale of the visit of +consolation (?) from the official head of a neighboring church, all +lend vividness and color to the tragedy and the gaiety of what must +have seemed to the author as “one thousand and one nights” of horror +and mischance. But throughout the entire melange he seems never to have +lost his sense of humor.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harper has seen fit to quote my first impressions when I commented +on this book shortly after reading the privately printed first edition. +I am correctly quoted, for I believe that every young graduate must +secure an appreciation of the discomforts of illness if he is to be +successful in making his patients comfortable during their sojourn in +bed, and their subsequent convalescence. The art of every physician +should include much more than a mere cure for his patient. There is no +school like experience, and a personal accident or a febrile disease +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +requiring a stay in bed will do more to educate a physician than all +the books that have been printed, or than any service he may carry on +in a hospital.</p> + +<p>The most engaging story of today is the hard luck medical story; and +the human individual, especially among women, is so prone to recite +his or her own, or the experience of others, that the ladies’ luncheon +party in modern society has been well designated “an organ recital.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Harper enters only one complaint against a member of my profession, +and that a justifiable one: his account of the first post-operative +dressing should be told to every young medical student as a warning and +a threat for them to avoid such a brutal performance. He refrains from +telling us about the disagreeable offices of the hospital orderly, and +of the painfully embarrassing moments of daily routine which led one +patient of my acquaintance to greet every knock on his door with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +challenge, “Who goes there? Friend or enema?”</p> + +<p>I feel a kindred claim to cherish this little book, for although I +have never taken a general anaesthetic yet I have had typhoid fever +once, and pneumonia twice. It was during one such convalescence that +I composed during a wakeful night what I dared call a sonnet. I am +no poet but my overwrought nerves, chagrin, temper or some unknown +caprice, induced the Muse to urge me to give birth to this thought:</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">HELL IS NOT PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh Bedpan! Implement of woe</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To one who is compelled to go</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In bed. Whence camest thou?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who first thought to make of thee a plan</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To minister to urgent need of man?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No mind celestial ever gave thee birth.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">No human science ever tried to break</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The law by Isaac Newton found,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And make go up what should go down.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Let thine own anatomy quite frankly speak!</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Whether of clay or agate it is clearly read</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That fires Satanic were thy natal bed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Thou art a stolen quadrate, I know full well,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From the tessellated pavement of deepest Hell.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>I have since used these words to cheer up suffering humans who rebel +at fate and the unnecessary crimes of brutal attendants, which are the +results of doctors’ orders.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harper has written of his remarkable experiences in a calm, +humorous and analytical spirit. I recommend his story to professional +and lay readers alike.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> +<p class="nindc"><span class="large">MERELY THE PATIENT</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> +<h2>MERELY THE PATIENT</h2> +</div> + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_PAIN_DISCOVERS_ME">A PAIN DISCOVERS ME</h2> + + +<p class="nind"> +THERE is said to be no subject on earth more entertaining (to the +narrator) than a major operation; and two operations, especially +if they fall close together, ought to be—for purposes of +self-entertainment—twice as good as one. Thus reckoning, it will +presently be seen that I have a decided advantage over those who have +to content themselves with only one, or none at all.</p> + +<p>And it occurs to me that to write a book is the most considerate as +well as the most expeditious means of acquainting your friends with the +details of an operation or other painful experience; for in this way +you can expatiate at large on the most harrowing aspects of the case, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +and everybody is at liberty to read as much or as little as he can +stand, and skip the rest; whereas if you get the listener’s ear he is +almost obliged to suffer attentively through to the end of your story. +Furthermore, in a book you can advertise your troubles far more widely +and effectively, and with less effort. Another advantage in writing +a book on some pet theme is that, like a filibusterer in the senate +chamber, you have the floor all to yourself: the difference being that +while his verbosity is wholly without interest or sense, either to +himself or his sleeping audience, your story is at least self-absorbing.</p> + +<p>To go back to the origin of this story, it began with a +pain—intermittent at first, but soon becoming violent and continuous. +When it reached this stage I called in a physician, who pronounced it +a bad attack of something with a strange name, which being reduced to +simple English meant there was something wrong with my left kidney. He +gave me a hypodermic of morphine and two days later I developed a bad +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +case of septic pneumonia which, with resultant complications, laid me +low for eight weeks. While convalescing from this I wrote a book on +stock market speculation. I don’t know what prompted me to write such a +book at such a time, unless it was that something in the nearness of my +approach to the realms of the unknown reminded me of how near I came to +leaving the world unprotected against the pitfalls of Wall Street.</p> + +<p>In due time I recovered from both the pneumonia and the book, but the +kidney was still belligerent, and about every six weeks, to quell its +savage attacks I had to take morphine and spend a few days in bed with +it. In the fall of that year while on a visit to my mother-in-law in +Minneapolis I was persuaded to take this refractory organ to the Mayo +Clinic at Rochester, Minnesota; and that sequestered little town, which +in the domain of operations, sickness and suffering occupies about the +same position as New York City does in the world of finance, provided +the setting for the semi-tragic episode herein related, in which for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +many weeks I played the leading rôle before a mixed assemblage of +doctors, nurses and anxious relatives.</p> + +<p>Fielding tells us that to prolong scenes of distress to an unwonted +degree is a task for which the reader feels but little indebted to the +author. Therefore since we have here to deal chiefly with grim-faced +facts such as are usually productive of more awe than amusement I +shall treat the whole catastrophe as lightly as the circumstances will +permit. But after all, a serious illness or an operation—like lion +hunting, stock market ventures and suchlike hazards—has its varied and +interesting phases; and many of its gloomy aspects are susceptible of +humorous interpretation when viewed in retrospect by those who survive +to tell the story.</p> + +<p>In the present undertaking I was encouraged by the statement of both +Doctor “Will” Mayo and Doctor W. F. Braasch, that one of the most +difficult problems of the physician is to get the accurate viewpoint +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +of the patient. Not that the patient’s viewpoint seems to make any +difference, but they like to have it, possibly for the same reason +that the little boy liked to hear the stuttering man talk—because it +amused him. In order to get the reactions of a patient, Doctor Samuel +W. Lambert goes so far as to say: “I have often told my students that +every physician should have a severe illness, and every surgeon an +abdominal operation.” Possibly those who read this account will feel +themselves relieved from the need of trying out Doctor Lambert’s +recommendation—which might also have included nurses, though he may +have figured that they have other ways of kindling their sympathetic +emotions.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="RUNNING_THE_GANTLET">RUNNING THE GANTLET</h2> +</div> + + +<p>On arriving at the Mayo Clinic I found that, if unaccompanied by +a physician, you are required to register and procure a numbered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +registration envelope, which serves as a sort of passport throughout +the whole institution and entitles you to be examined, at their +discretionary rates, for everything they can think of, including your +income and your sanity. This formality disposed of, I was directed +to a certain lettered and numbered desk (there are several floors +of tremendous length and breadth, with a great number of such desks +on each floor). This particular desk was presided over by a young +lady who gave me a numbered slip and automatically directed me to +“take a chair.” After waiting nearly three hours I was ushered +into the presence of a diagnostician in the department of urology, +to whom I briefly stated my case, and said I wanted to find out +what sort of treatment they would recommend. Without appearing to +have heard anything I said he took out a long questionnaire and +began cross-examining me about my habits, my mode of living and +other personal matters. He could think of more prying questions +than a prosecuting attorney. He was particularly curious about my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +antecedents—how long they had lived, what they died of, and other +long-forgotten data about the fallen branches of my family tree. Having +no idea that kidney-stones were hereditary I wondered what all this +long catechism had to do with my complaint, in which, by the way, he +didn’t seem the least bit concerned.</p> + +<p>Then having me strip to the waist he stretched me on a long table and +thumped me over pretty much as one would test a watermelon to see if it +were ripe. For some reason best known to himself he studiously avoided +the kidney corner of my anatomy; which reminded me of a man I once +played golf with, who when his ball landed in the bushes or tall grass +always looked for it in some adjacent quarter for fear of finding it in +an unplayable lie. Needless to say, we had mutually agreed that there +should be no penalty for lost balls.</p> + +<p>When the doctor had completed his record of all I knew, and also +had pommeled me until his solemn visage betokened some momentous +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +conclusion—which he guarded with profound secrecy—his air of mute +sobriety was in nowise reassuring. He put the stethoscope to my +heart, then shifted it to the left kidney and asked me to breathe +deeply—perhaps to see if the two organs were beating in unison. But +he shook his head negatively, which I took to mean that something was +wrong with one or the other.</p> + +<p>“Nothing serious, I hope,” said I, studying his inscrutable face for +some hopeful token. For a few moments he seemed lost in meditation, +which set me to wondering if he had found something he didn’t dare +tell me about. Then without answering, he wrote out and handed me the +following prescription: “Four ounces of castor oil and loganberry +juice, no supper, to bed at seven o’clock, up at seven <span class="allsmcap">A. M.</span>, +no breakfast, report at desk XY-4 at 7:30 tomorrow.” I suggested that +four ounces was rather a generous dose, but he said the conditions +warranted it, so I didn’t argue the matter with him. He also gave +me several<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> +envelopes of assorted colors, directing me to various +appointment desks, and informed me with great impressiveness that they +contained orders for examinations. Incidentally he told me that when I +had finished with these I might go to breakfast, then report back to +him.</p> + +<p>My first appointment next morning was for an X-ray of the offending +kidney, and having finished with this I set out to dispose of the other +four envelopes, curiously anxious to learn what the examinations would +disclose—heart disease, kidney-stones, gall-stones, cancer or what. +It must be something terrible, I thought; otherwise the doctor would +not have shown such deep and mystified concern. It is remarkable how +one’s imagination can run wild when the physical machinery is upset by +some puzzling ailment. One fear begets another and, like bacteria, they +multiply, until it becomes possible to alarm one’s self into almost +any sort of malady. For example, while at the outset I was satisfied +that my only trouble was seated in the left kidney, during the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +course of the next few days, owing to the variety and severity of the +examinations, and the utter lack of information concerning the results +of any of them, I fancied myself the victim of no less than half a +dozen diseases, most of them fatal.</p> + +<p>At the next desk, there being at least fifty people ahead of me, I told +the young lady I’d call later. At this point I began to feel a little +encouraged, because whatever I had, it seemed to be very prevalent, and +the afflicted ones didn’t appear to be much disturbed, except one poor +old fellow, who was badly doubled up with what I suspected to be a case +of “gravel” pains such as I had often experienced. I asked him if he +had kidney trouble.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said; “it’s just a nasty hang-over from a castor oil jag last +night.”</p> + +<p>After waiting an hour at the third desk they sent me into a nearby +room to have all my teeth X-rayed. This completed, I plucked up more +courage, and taking my fourth envelope I wandered about among the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> +crowd, looking for the specified desk, which I finally located two +floors below. The attendant there, like all the others, asked me to +“take a chair”—a phrase that one hears repeated everywhere, until +eventually it gets on your nerves. After a couple of hours or so I got +up and asked the desk girl how much longer she thought I’d have to wait.</p> + +<p>“The doctor will see you in your turn. Take a chair, please.”</p> + +<p>After a few days you get so that, like a trained monkey, you +instinctively look for a chair the moment you approach a desk. You +sit and sit—anywhere from an hour to all day. Your chief amusement +consists of looking about, wondering what’s the matter with this +or that one. The majority of the patients wore a look of calm but +determined resignation, and naturally I supposed that most of them had +kidney-stones.</p> + +<p>Unless someone stumbles over your feet, you are rarely disturbed, +whether awake or asleep, therefore it is necessary to exercise due +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +caution that you are at the right desk; otherwise you may sit all day +till closing time before discovering your error. When your turn comes, +if you happen to be asleep from exhaustion you automatically revert to +the foot of the line, which is apt to mean the loss of a whole day. +But time means absolutely nothing here—to anyone but the patients. If +you ask the diagnostician when you’ll be through he answers evasively, +“As soon as we have completed your examinations.” There is something +contagious about clinical examinations: the first one calls for at +least two more, the next two show that you need five or six others, and +so on <i>ad infinitum</i>, until you feel like a fellow in the dark, +hunting for the last link in an endless chain.</p> + +<p>Another stereotyped phrase that one hears on entering most of the +examination rooms is, “Strip to the waist.” You are sent to a little +<i>un</i>dressing booth and furnished with a sort of loose flowing +Chinese robe to take the place of your upper garments. On being +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +directed to one of these booths, and finding it already occupied, I +sauntered along the hallway and presently found another similar looking +room, with the door slightly ajar. Without observing the “For Women” +sign overhead, I opened the door and switched on the light, supposing +the room to be unoccupied. But a loud shriek from a back corner +disclosed my error; and frightened almost out of my senses, I turned +about to find myself face to face with a squatty, florid-featured +Amazon, whose <i>dishabille</i> indicated that she had rather exceeded +the examiner’s customary directions to strip only to the waist. With an +impromptu word of apology, I was making a hasty exit, when she snarled, +“Can you <i>beat</i> it!”</p> + +<p>At the fourth desk I was called at the end of two hours, and they +undertook a thorough examination of my eyes, ears, nose, and possibly +my throat—I don’t remember. I do remember wondering again what all +this wearisome routine had to do with my kidney; also that I was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +absolutely empty and exhausted. I recollect, too, that it was 2:30 +<span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span> and I hadn’t had a bite to eat +since the morning before; so I pocketed the other envelopes till the +following day and went to my hotel next door, where I found the dining +room “closed from 2:30 until six o’clock.”</p> + +<p>Next morning when I went to dispose of my two remaining envelopes I +discovered that the first one called for what is known as the blood +urea test—where they jab a needle-pointed syringe into a vein in the +arm and draw off quantities of blood. Then, as if they suspect you +of holding back on them, they send you into another room where they +puncture the lobe of the ear, drain off more blood—if you have any +left—and store it away in glass tubes labeled with your name and +number.</p> + +<p>The young lady at the desk gave me a numbered card—number 6, I recall, +for I was early. “Take a chair,” she said as she wrote number 7 on a +slip for the man behind me. I sat there an hour or so, studying the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +faces of the crowd and listening to the monotonous “Take a chair,” when +a nurse opened a nearby door and called out numbers one to six. The +first six of us filed into a small anteroom where we were requested to +remove our coats and roll up the left sleeve. Through the door leading +into an adjoining room we could see a number of nurses in uniform, and +on a table near the door were several strange looking instruments, +glass containers, etc. Extending past the left side of the entrance +we could see about eighteen inches of what seemed to be an operating +table, and altogether the interior did not look inviting.</p> + +<p>Number one, a tall hardy Scotchman, was soon called and as he stretched +himself on the table we could see his feet projecting over the end +at the doorway. For a moment all eyes and ears were strained, then +suddenly a heavy groan issued from within, accompanied by a violent +swinging and jerking of the patient’s feet. Presently the legs dropped, +and after a few convulsive twitches the feet hung limp over the table +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +end. From what we could see, it looked as if the nurses had won the +first fall, and had the victim’s shoulders pinned to the mat. Among the +five waiting occupants in the anteroom was a rather pale looking chap +who stood for a moment with wide-staring eyes, then suddenly gathering +up his hat and coat he exclaimed, “Here’s where I quit!” At which he +jerked open the door and disappeared.</p> + +<p>At the desk where I had postponed my appointment the day before I spent +two hours waiting and another half hour going through some sort of +heart test; then for a circulation test they kept me another hour with +one foot and leg thrust into a covered vessel of water, which threw +me into a state of nervous apprehension by continually bubbling as if +it were boiling. This operation was supervised by a vivacious little +nurse who kept track of my pulse; and observing my anxiety, she did her +best to engage my attention by relating a tragic chapter of the story +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +of her life. She timed the story so that it ended coincidentally with +the circulation test; then she lifted the cover, tested the water with +a thermometer, and assured me it was cool; also that the flesh on my +leg was still intact. I thanked her and said it was the most enjoyable +examination I had had.</p> + +<p>Following this I hurried through a fifteen minute luncheon, and spent +three hours waiting for my doctor.</p> + +<p>“I observe you are no less a humorist than a physician,” I said, +remembering the loss of my breakfast and luncheon the day before. +“You gave me a two days’ job to perform before breakfast.” Aside from +provoking a flicker of a smile this did not change the gravity of his +countenance in the least. He asked me a number of new questions, about +everything except the part that troubled me. Whenever I asked about my +kidney he always answered by asking me about something else—on the +theory, perhaps, that having the kidney safely quarantined, he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +interested solely in exploring for new trouble.</p> + +<p>When he inquired about my stomach I was prepared for him, for I had +been forewarned as to the rigors of this examination, which consists of +swallowing the nozzle end of a rubber hose and forcing a quantity of +dry bread crumbs down alongside it, then with the hose dangling from +your mouth you take your place in the line and wait for the food to +digest. By means of a pumping device on the outer end of the hose they +test the contents of your stomach every half hour or so to see how you +are getting along. I emphasized the fact that my digestive organs were +in perfect working order and would rival the gizzard of an ostrich. +Thus after an eloquent protest I escaped the dreadful stomach test.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CYSTOSCOPIC_TRAP">THE CYSTOSCOPIC TRAP</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The doctor tapped his desk thoughtfully for a moment, then suddenly +his face lit up with some brilliant thought and he wrote out orders +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +for five more examinations. Though I had won my point I didn’t like +the contented smile with which he handed them to me. I went out +felicitating myself on having cleverly side-stepped the stomach test, +but a few hours later I discovered the cause of his merriment, for I +walked right into another, much worse—a cystoscopic examination—where +they insert something that feels like a piece of rusty barbed wire into +the bladder and up through the ureter into the kidney. Affixed to the +inner end of this ingenious apparatus—which has an opening through the +center—there is a tiny electric light bulb, by means of which they +get a view of the interior furnishings. To facilitate this they dilate +the parts by pumping in air, soda, transparent acids and suchlike +pain-producing inventions.</p> + +<p>The process of exploring by alternately probing, twisting, pumping and +expanding the inside membraneous walls of the kidney is unpityingly +pursued as long as the victim remains conscious; and up to this point +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +is as far as I am able to give an account of the performance. In fact +there is no use attempting further to describe it, because no printable +language can do it justice.</p> + +<p>They don’t like to give an anesthetic in this case, for the reason +that you can suffer more and they claim they can get better results +without it. It’s like the old-fashioned idea that in confinement cases +anything given to mitigate the pain is apt to injure the child. The +only near-humorous feature that I discovered in the whole procedure was +the remark of one of the examining physicians, that he didn’t think it +would hurt—much.</p> + +<p>There was a pet expression that he used repeatedly: whenever he gave +the vitals a vigorous probe that involuntarily tightened every muscle +and nearly lifted me off the operating table he would say, “Now +<i>relax</i>, please.”</p> + +<p>I asked why they called it an examination instead of an operation. +He said it sounded less painful; and if the patients knew it were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +an operation they would either refuse to take it, or else insist on +being etherized. When it was over, the only report I could get was, +that it was “satisfactory” (to them at least), and that the kidney was +“still functioning.” They gave me another bottle of castor oil and +put me to bed for twenty-four hours to recuperate and muster strength +for the next examination. The doctor assured me that castor oil was +very “cleansing,” and he warned me that any substitute might prove +injurious. I didn’t think to inquire if he had an interest in the +drugstore where they sold it.</p> + +<p>After recovering from this and the four examinations that followed I +felt that every part of me had been subjected to a scrutiny as thorough +as it was painful, and I became positively convinced that whatever else +ailed me, I was threatened with sheer nerve exhaustion. I never dreamed +there were so many painfully expert methods of examining the interior +of a human being.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="YOU_NEVER_DISCOVER_IF_YOU_HAVE_PASSED_OR_FLUNKED_YOUR_EXAMINATIONS"> +YOU NEVER DISCOVER IF YOU HAVE PASSED OR FLUNKED YOUR EXAMINATIONS</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The next time I saw the doctor he handed me another batch of envelopes, +which I apologetically declined. Having just come from a very +disagreeable and seemingly unnecessary ordeal, for which I had waited +several hours, I was in a state of hostile rebellion. It was like being +repeatedly put on trial for crimes of which you are innocent; and I +decided that as long as I could get no information whatever about my +kidney, or indeed anything else, it were better to let the remainder of +my organs rest as long as they were at ease.</p> + +<p>“Doctor,” said I, “I’ve already explained to you what my trouble +is, and if you are putting me through these third degree maneuvers +merely for the sake of killing time while the X-ray pictures are being +developed, I prefer to choose some less heroic diversion. I’m not +concealing any ailment from you and I don’t care to waste any more of +my time or yours hunting for something that seems to bother you more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +than it does me.”</p> + +<p>The doctor protested vigorously; he seemed to regard my attitude as +nothing less than mutiny. He declared that all these tests, and a +great many more, were absolutely necessary to complete the records +of my case; and that if I refused to continue there was grave danger +of annulling all the good that had been accomplished. I said that if +any important discovery had been made I’d like to be let in on the +secret. That, he said, would be contrary to the rules. I insisted +that being the owner of the kidney, I was entitled to know something +about the reasons, or at least the results, of all this grilling +process; and as for the sealed verdicts of their examinations, they +meant nothing whatever to me; that what I came there for was to have +my kidney X-rayed, not to be fluoroscoped and dissected from head to +foot. Seeing that the reports on all the tests and examinations were +written in medical terms, and that they were alike inaccessible and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +incomprehensible to me, I was not disposed to contribute the additional +time and money necessary to make a complete set of historical records +in which I had no interest or understanding.</p> + +<p>“But our records are a valuable contribution to medical science,” he +argued.</p> + +<p>“In that case,” said I, “those who are interested in such matters can +provide their own subjects for clinical experimentation. As for me, my +tastes run in other channels.”</p> + +<p>At this point I am reminded that one day while waiting near one of +the appointment desks I overheard a spirited conversation between two +patients who were trying to figure out why it was that for ten days +they had both been taking the same identical examinations, one for a +swelling in the ear, the other for a dislocated knee-cap. Finally one +of them reached the conclusion that “in a laundry all shirts, whether +dirty or clean, are run through the same process.”</p> + +<p>Although I fell somewhat short of the graduating point, I went far +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +enough to discover that this great research-academy for bodily ailments +is not devoid of interest for those of boundless patience and physical +endurance, who have a penchant for scientific exploration. It is a +tremendous human dissecting organization which runs with the precision +of clockwork and is fed daily by hundreds of recruits from every state +in the union and every civilized country on earth. It is the Mecca for +thousands of people who enjoy searching their systems for the seat of +some indefinite, unlocatable disorder, either real or imaginary, and +for all such persons it must be a satisfying resort, since it provides +every known mechanism and device for exploring, testing and tormenting +the human anatomy. And those who survive the entire course have the +recompense of knowing they have been thoroughly castor-oiled and +overhauled.</p> + +<p>After much persuasion on my part, and many expressions of surprise +and regret on the part of the diagnostician, I finally succeeded in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +arranging an appointment with the chief urologist for the next day. +From the appointed time I waited two or three hours, expecting the +while to get a reprimand for my stubbornness; but to my surprise the +distinguished Doctor Braasch greeted me as cordially as if he were +going to present me with a diploma of good health and a magna cum laude +degree for good behavior. Though his geniality appeared to lack nothing +in sincerity, I had a strange presentiment that he had something “up +his sleeve”; and with some anxiety I inquired what my examinations and +blood tests had disclosed. At this his countenance became grave. So did +mine.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SHOCKING_DISCOVERY">THE SHOCKING DISCOVERY</h2> +</div> + + +<p>After going hurriedly through a collection of “reports” lying before +him on the desk he rendered his opinion in this-wise: The summing up +of all the reports—as far as my examinations had extended—led to the +discovery that my trouble was located in my left kidney!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>I was on the point of making some jaunty remark about their having +wasted a lot of time and labor in finding out what I had told them +at the beginning, when he showed me the X-ray pictures, revealing a +condition of the kidney which called for an operation. This discovery +having been made in my first examination, all the others seemed a +mere waste of time and effort. But I was less disturbed about past +events than I was over the prospects of the future. The suggestion of +an operation, coming unexpectedly, gave me a queer jolt, not easily +described. It seemed more like a bad dream than a reality. Without +the remotest idea that any such action would be necessary I had made +my plans to return East in a few days; and having felt no pain or +inconvenience for more than a month it was impossible to adjust myself +to the thought of an operation. A man with a violent toothache has a +lessened dread of the dentist; and a griping pain in the midriff or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> +in the appendix quarter mitigates the terror of seeing the doctor; but +for a fellow in perfectly good health and spirits to go voluntarily and +submit himself to being cut open is quite another matter.</p> + +<p>When I reported the verdict to my family, to my utter amazement they +seemed not in the least surprised; indeed they were somewhat jubilant +that it was no worse. My suggestion to put off the operation till I +could think it over met with a storm of protest; the whole family +party were of one voice in declaring that as long as it had to be done +sometime it must be done immediately while I was in good health. They +would all stay with me, play with me, and keep me constantly amused. +With the late scientific discoveries in surgery, all contributing to +the safety and comfort of the patient, there was nothing to worry +about. In short, after the first shock it would be a regular outing +for me. One might have supposed they were trying to inveigle me into +going to a circus or a football game. Their arguments were seconded +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> +and supported by a man we had met at the hotel, who chimed in with +the joyful news that he had just been through a similar operation and +although, minus one kidney, he never enjoyed such good health in all +his life. Without wishing him the least harm, I almost regretted that +he felt so well.</p> + +<p>We talked with the chief urologist, who joined enthusiastically in +their cheerful persuasions; but somehow I couldn’t seem to fall in with +their light-hearted view of things. It’s remarkable what a trifling +matter an operation is—to the other fellow. They all seemed to regard +the act of cutting me open as being no more serious than that of +manicuring a broken fingernail.</p> + +<p>Any married man knows how difficult it is to hold his own against +the arguments of <i>one</i> woman; and to stand out against a whole +bevy of them requires a species of fortitude of which no normal man +is possessed. Being hopelessly in the minority, both as to numbers +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +and argumentative force, I appealed to Doctor Braasch and asked if +the operation couldn’t be postponed a few months or a year without +endangering my health. For a moment he seemed to weaken slightly in +favor of the losing side, and admitted that it probably could; but the +women insisted that it couldn’t. Having made up their minds there was +going to be an operation, they would hear to nothing else, and declared +that I was only delaying the performance with needless discussion.</p> + +<p>I said, “I don’t want any operation; that isn’t what I came here for.”</p> + +<p>My wife said, “Maybe you didn’t know it, but that’s exactly what you +did come here for. I know a lot of things that you know nothing about. +And it’s much better you shouldn’t know.”</p> + +<p>She had kept in touch with my diagnostician, and I wondered if he had +initiated her into some of the clinical secrets in order to punish me +for insubordination. I didn’t ask what it was she knew, nor did it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +make much difference. Whatever a woman may know, it does not alter the +fact that she wants what she wants. And if her wants call for no more +than the loss of a kidney, it’s easier to accommodate her than it is to +oppose her wishes. Therefore, with the family and the clinical staff +arrayed against me there wasn’t much use arguing. Nobody supported my +side: I was like a lone defendant facing a “packed” jury, solid for +conviction.</p> + +<p>The women were convinced that it was such a trivial affair, that they +all wished they could take the job off my hands. They were astonished +that under the circumstances I should be so obstinate in refusing this +opportunity of having Doctor Will Mayo operate on me. The result was, +I was made to feel more like a slacker than a hero. What a pity it is, +I thought, that those who like such things cannot have their tastes +gratified! I wished the kidney would kick up again so I could get +thoroughly sore and disgusted with it; but it lay there as quiet as a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +mouse in the corner—as if it heard what was going on. I could almost +hear it whisper, “Stick to your guns, old pal, I’ll be a good kidney +in future.” But in a moment of weakness I asked the doctor how long it +would take.</p> + +<p>“It means only ten days to two weeks in bed and one more to convalesce. +Yes, Doctor ‘Will’ can operate on you day after tomorrow morning.” That +settled it. At four o’clock the next afternoon, with the mercury thirty +below zero, my family accompanied me to the hospital.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ALL_YE_WHO_ENTER_HERE">“ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE—”</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Have you ever been left at a strange hospital in the afternoon or +evening of a cold, gloomy day, to be prepared for an operation early +next morning? It starts the goose flesh on me even now when I recall +seeing the door close behind my family as they left the room when the +visitors’ hours were over. I was alone—and lonesome. Here is where +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +the stern realities of life press down hard upon you and you call in +all the reserves of your courage to meet them. It is a case where a +fellow is almost justified in feeling sorry for himself. I felt as I +imagine poor old Philoctetes must have felt when his companions sailed +away and abandoned him on the deserted Island of Lemnos, there to nurse +his snake-bitten ankle in painful solitude. I was even worse off than +Philoctetes: I didn’t have so much as a pain to keep me company.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes an attractive nurse came in and looked me over with a +quick appraising eye.</p> + +<p>“I’m to be your day nurse,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” I said; “I hope you’ll like me.” She said she’d be on duty +till seven, and come back at seven in the morning. For my “supper” she +said I might have a “light tray”; then she went out. Presently she +returned, bringing a tray with a miniature dish of light cereal. That +was all the rules permitted me to have. It was carefully concealed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> +beneath a white napkin, probably to keep the aerial bacilli from +nesting in it on the way in. When I had eaten it I glanced up with an +eager, hungry look, in comparison with which Oliver Twist must have +appeared contentedly well fed.</p> + +<p>“Next course,” I said, with a maudlin attempt at facetiousness.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “You’ve had all the rules allow. I’m sorry, but—”</p> + +<p>“But you’re not sorry enough to give me any more—is that it?”</p> + +<p>“Your next course will be castor oil.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve already had it—bottles of it!” I protested. “It’s all +they’ve fed me the past ten days.” That made no difference; the orders +called for it, and there was no alternative but to take it.</p> + +<p>“I <i>hate</i> the damn stuff!—Haven’t you some substitute?” I pleaded.</p> + +<p>“There is no substitute,” she said with an air of finality that closed +the argument.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> + +<p>She removed the tray, then set to work getting me ready for the night. +She unfastened my shoes, took them off, unbuttoned me and shunted me +into a suit of hospital pajamas, as if I were already an invalid. It +was hours before my usual bedtime, but I made no protest. In fact my +powers of opposition had been worn down to a point where it no longer +seemed worth while objecting to anything. Once before I had been in +a hospital a few days and learned my lesson in submissiveness. In a +hospital one soon learns to obey everybody, for every attendant, even +down to the meanest orderly, is clothed with an authority not to be +questioned by any invalid intruder. A man may be a czar in his own home +(that is, if he’s single), but let him fall into the clutches of the +doctors, nurses and hospital authorities and he becomes the most humble +milk-fed subject on earth. The moment he undertakes to assert himself +he is sure to run afoul of some iron-clad rule, and like a captive bird +beating its head against the bars of its cage he learns the utter +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +futility of resistance.</p> + +<p>I lay there trying to chirk up my spirits by contemplating the future +joys of convalescence—when a fellow can sit up in an easy chair with +a consciousness of restored sovereignty over himself; when he can +fearlessly declare his mind and tell them all to go to the—but just +then the nurse reminded me it was seven o’clock, and she was leaving +for the night. She surprised me by saying the <i>barber</i> would soon +be in.</p> + +<p>“But I haven’t sent for any barber—I don’t want one.”</p> + +<p>“No, but that’s all been arranged for you. Good night.” And out she +went.</p> + +<p>It all reminded me of the newspaper accounts where we read of people +being fed, shaved and groomed for hanging or electrocution at daybreak, +except that they don’t have to take castor oil; and they are always +given plenty to eat.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the nurse left the barber arrived. He unwrapped his kit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +and took out an old-fashioned razor. “I’ve come to shave you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, but I’m not an invalid, and I always shave myself.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—your face—but that ain’t where they’re goin’ to operate,” he +laughed. He cupped his palms and blew his breath on them.—“I’ll have +to thaw the frost out of these joints before I can hold a razor.”</p> + +<p>He was a youngish man and went about his task in a clumsy way. He +shaved—or rather scraped—my back from the waist down to the hips, +talking volubly the while. Then having turned me over, as he was +working industriously on the most ticklish part of my midsection he +confided to me that he was new at the barber business. He said he had +tried his hand on three or four ex-patients in an “undertaker’s shop,” +but I was the second “live one” he had ever “worked on.”</p> + +<p>“But then I’ve got to learn sometime,” he remarked carelessly, while +he tested the edge of the razor on his thumbnail. “There’s one good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +thing about shaving a ‘deader,’—if you cut him he can’t holler.... +There ain’t much to shave right here,” he observed, rubbing his cold, +rough hand over the pit of my stomach, “but I’m supposed to run over it +just the same.” He hoped I would excuse him if he accidentally “cut” +or “pulled” a little. “But then I guess even if I’d nip you a bit it +wouldn’t be a thing to what they’ll do to you when they get you on the +table tomorrow morning,” he added with a snicker.</p> + +<p>From that on to the end of the shaving operation my feelings can +better be imagined than described. My only grain of comfort was that +his razor was so dull that if it slipped it wouldn’t cut very deep. +When he had finished he sat down on the edge of the bed and proceeded +to regale me with anecdotes and personal experiences. He had recently +been a cab driver, but business in that line was dull in winter, and +the old barber at the hospital having suddenly died he applied for +the position and the Sisters had accepted him without questioning his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +qualifications.</p> + +<p>“I guess the old girls here think a barber’s a barber,” he laughed. +“Maybe you’ll think I’ve got a hell of a nerve, but you know when a +fellow’s up against it he can’t be choosey about a job.”</p> + +<p>“My friend,” said I, “you have nothing on me. A hospital patient has no +choice between a barber and a blacksmith.”</p> + +<p>He looked at me anxiously. “You wouldn’t squeal on me, would you?”</p> + +<p>“Squeal? No—I’m glad you didn’t apply for the job of house surgeon.”</p> + +<p>He drew a deep breath of relief. “Thanks. I hope I can get by for a few +days till I sort of get the hang o’ things.”</p> + +<p>At length he got up, stretched his arms and yawned. “Well, I’ll be +going. Good luck to you, old scout,” he said; “I hope by the next time +you’re operated on I’ll have the barber business down pat.”</p> + +<p>Next morning I was awakened at seven o’clock by my day nurse, who set +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +about decorating me for the operation. Those who have been through +these dismal preliminaries will need no rehearsal of the sensations; +and those who have not, had best be left in ignorance, with the hope +that they may never know.</p> + +<p>I wondered if I were going to meet the famous Doctor Will, or if, like +a cold-blooded executioner, he would appear and after performing his +work, disappear like a phantom at daybreak. I had heard that operating +was such an impersonal affair with him that he paid no attention +whatever to the identity of the individual he operated on, either +before or after the act; that he simply came to the operating room at +the appointed time, and with his several assistants and all the facts +in the case before him he proceeded with his work as one would carve a +roast of beef without knowing or caring anything about the critter to +which it had belonged.</p> + +<p>But I discovered that the Mayo brothers are not mere mechanical +butchers. On the contrary they are genial, sentimental, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +tenderhearted, to the last degree. My nurse declared that Doctor Will +was “all business”; but that “Doctor Charles makes more fun than a +circus clown.” They make the rounds at the hospital early in the +morning, meet the new patients and spend a few moments of cheerful +conversation with each one, which goes a long way toward counteracting +the dread of the trip to the operating room.</p> + +<p>These calls are attended with a considerable amount of impressive +ceremony. About eight o’clock the first morning I heard a tramping of +many feet in the hall outside, then suddenly, without any warning, +the door was opened, my overhead light was flashed on and the nurse +in suppressed excitement whispered, “Doctor Will!” She immediately +took her position at the head of my bed. Two men—Doctor Will’s +first assistant and the house physician—came in and took their +positions across the room, facing the entrance. Then appeared Doctor +Will, followed by two other assistants. As he approached my bed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +with outstretched hand he smiled and called me by name. After a few +good-natured remarks he said, “Don’t be alarmed, we’ll have you out +in a few days.” At this he left the room, with the other four, none +of whom had spoken a word. He had a firm, quick step, strong handsome +features, and a most engaging personality. After meeting and talking +with him you feel that you have entrusted yourself to competent hands.</p> + +<p>An hour or so later the nurse came hurrying in with the news that +we’d been “called.” After being assured that I had no false teeth or +portable bridgework to leave behind, she hastily gave me a hypodermic +of morphine, bustled me into a wheel chair and hurried me up to the +operating room on the top floor. There under a great dome thickly +studded with electric lights, in the presence of Doctor Will and a +dozen or more gowned and masked assistants and attendants I climbed up +on the operating table, my arms were quickly folded across my chest, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +and while my legs were being strapped into position the cone was placed +over my face and an angel-voiced creature murmured softly in my ear, +“Now take long deep breaths, please; it will only be a few seconds.” +I wondered if she were as beautiful as her voice. At any rate I would +gladly have postponed the operation and breathed an hour or more for +her, just to hear her talk. Her soft, musical voice seemed to move +farther away, and in the distance she was saying how nicely I was +getting on. I was about to call to her, not to go off and leave me, +but—</p> + +<p>The next I knew I was back in my room looking drowsily up into the +anxious faces of my family who assured me that it was “all over.”</p> + +<p>“No,” I said—“they’ve just sent for me; I have to go and be operated +on.” At that I closed my eyes and slept again. I afterwards learned +that the kidney required a great deal of excavating and curetting, and +that I had been on the operating table nearly two hours.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_ENCOUNTER_WITH_ADHESIVE_TAPE"> +MY ENCOUNTER WITH ADHESIVE TAPE</h2> +</div> + + +<p>My first experience in having the wound dressed was one of the +high-lights of the whole occasion—one that requires no straining of +the memory to recall. It was indeed a masterpiece of brutality that +well deserves to be recorded in medical history; and I remember it as +the outstanding instance where my rights and feelings as a patient were +asserted with loud spontaneity, in language more forceful than polite.</p> + +<p>“I have a happy surprise for you,” the nurse greeted me that morning, +with a roguish twinkle in her eye; and presently one of the house +doctors came in, followed by a nurse pushing a “tea-cart” loaded +with bandages, bottles and a wicked looking assortment of probing +instruments. He set immediately to work removing my swathings, and when +he got down to the criscross network of adhesive tape he carefully +peeled up one of the corners, then without the slightest warning he +suddenly <i>ripped the whole thing off</i>, carrying with it, as I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +supposed, all the skin, with the kidney and half of my insides adhering +to it.</p> + +<p>“You * * * damned brute!” I exploded. I added much more to the same +purpose; but that, for the moment, was all the satisfaction I got. +His calloused soul had probably been excoriated many times before. He +merely smiled and inquired if it hurt! Ever since then the mere thought +of adhesive tape makes me shudder.</p> + +<p>From five to eight different physicians, including both the Mayo +brothers, visited me daily. Though I was not a patient of Doctor +Charles Mayo, he called on me regularly, chatted pleasantly for a few +moments, and always left with a word of cheer.</p> + +<p>While my progress was constantly reported to be normal, on the ninth +day I began to realize that some strange thing had “got” me—something +was certainly going wrong. The drainage tubes had been removed, my +incision was almost healed, both kidneys were said to be functioning +regularly, my temperature was reported normal (though I knew it was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +not), and I was told that all blood tests and examinations indicated +that I was on the highway to recovery. Still I protested that something +had me in its deadly grip, and I began to be alarmed. I complained to +the nurse, who said I was only tired and needed sleep. I complained +to every doctor that came in, and each in turn, as if they had all +rehearsed together, said it was “only natural”; and every time I +expostulated with Doctor Will he good-naturedly turned the matter aside +with some joke. Once he said that if the fire alarm were to ring, I’d +be the first patient to jump out the window.</p> + +<p>While they all seemed disposed to listen to me with that kindly +forbearance usually shown to a talkative old lady in a high class +private sanitarium for feeble-minded, nobody was seriously impressed. +There was no use trying to argue with anyone; they simply listened +tolerantly as long as it amused me to talk. Indeed the harassment of my +body and mind was such that I sometimes wondered if I had become an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +inmate instead of a patient.</p> + +<p>They said the records showed I was getting well, and that’s all there +was to it. Whatever I said or however I felt seemed not to alter the +purely scientific fact that my condition was normal.</p> + +<p>There are certain reactions that customarily follow certain operations; +and in common practice the patient is not supposed to develop any +complications not on the regular calendar. The signposts were all set +indicating my lines of recovery, and all I had to do was to keep within +bounds and follow directions. But some deadly microbe having intervened +to upset their calculations, I was unable to eat a mouthful of food, +or to adjust my mental and physical reactions to the prescribed order +of things. In other words, theoretically I was getting well, but +practically I was becoming a physical wreck.</p> + +<p>About this time I received a call one afternoon from the pastor of a +church in the town, who having read in the local newspaper that I was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +from Boston probably jumped to the conclusion that I must be in need of +spiritual aid. He was a soft-spoken, amiable, benevolent appearing man, +and regretted to find me laid so low. Seeing that I was too sick to +indulge in much general conversation he very considerately came at once +to the point and asked if I were a believer. When I assured him that I +was, he inquired if I felt prepared for any eventuality.</p> + +<p>“My friend,” said I, “no one has a more profound veneration for your +cloth than I have, and you show the true Christian spirit in coming +to see me; but I am decidedly dubious about death-bed repentance. +Religion, it seems to me, is something that should be acquired and +practiced in health, not in sickness. A soldier who has been a +worthless slacker in health can be of little service to his general +when he lies at the point of death. This last moment contrition makes +salvation too easy to be genuine.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> + +<p>His answer was that those who came late to the vineyard received the +same pay as the ones who came earlier; but my mind was too muddled to +comprehend how this applied to those who remained away till they were +too ill or decrepit to be of any service at all; and having delivered +my little sermon I was not disposed to argue the matter any further.</p> + +<p>“My dear brother,” he said at length, “nothing is more uncertain than +life. You are making a brave fight, but if by some hard decree of fate +you should be called to your final accounting, do you feel that you are +prepared to meet your—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I feel quite prepared,” said I, and without stopping to realize +how it might shock his religious sensibilities I added—“But if you saw +a man in a pasture running for a fence with a raging bull close at his +heels there wouldn’t be much use stopping him to inquire if he were +prepared for the consequences in case he stumbled.”</p> + +<p>A few days later, though my head still reeled and I felt the slowly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +increasing ravages of some sort of poisoning, I became restless for +a change of environment. The hospital rooms were equipped with an +electrical signaling instrument that clicked busily night and day, and +nearly drove me mad. Then came Christmas Eve, with a group of noisy +merry-makers parading up and down the corridors, singing Christmas +carols and hallelujah songs. It was after visitors’ hours, and my night +nurse having gone out, perhaps to join in the festivities, I lay there +conjuring up melancholy thoughts, and contrasting the wretchedness +of that night with the happiness of former times. Whether it was the +peculiar nature of my illness or what, I cannot say, but Christmas +music seemed utterly out of tune with my situation, and I can recall +nothing that ever made me so blue, either before or after.</p> + +<p>At length Doctor Will submitted to my entreaties, and so they bundled +me up, put me onto a stretcher and took me in an ambulance down to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +the Kahler hospital, where I was placed on the convalescent floor. This +brought me more conveniently near my family, who were living at the +Kahler hotel, in the same building with the hospital. For the first +two days I was reduced to one nurse, who did twenty-hour duty; that +is, she was off from two till six <span class="allsmcap">P. M.</span>, +and during this interval various members of my family took turns at +entertaining me by trying to convince me that the doctors, nurses and +everybody else knew more than I did. Now that I was listed among the +convalescents, they couldn’t understand what made me persist in being +so stubborn about getting well. Indeed doctors, nurses, friends and +relatives all boosted me along and although I had lost nearly thirty +pounds—mostly from my face, it seemed—they all insisted that I was +improving rapidly and “looking fine.” Several letters and telegrams +came from friends congratulating me on my rapid recovery, and everybody +seemed jubilant, except me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> + +<p>“Where do they all get their glad news?” I asked. “It’s the only +information I have of any improvement. Don’t try to fool yourselves or +me—I’m <i>sick</i>! Call it stubbornness or whatever you will, but I +tell you, something has <i>got</i> me!”</p> + +<p>Every blood test and every examination in the regular technical +routine showed me to be perfectly normal; and yet, though I strained +every nerve and muscle to justify these cheerful views, I was still +conscious of the gradually tightening coils of some deadly venom. But +the physicians still refused to take my complaints seriously; and for +the life of me I couldn’t explain just how I felt. I simply knew that +something had gone wrong, and that I was steadily losing ground in an +unequal fight. About the only sensation I could describe was that I +felt a constant whirling in my head; and the skin on my head and face +felt like a tight-fitting leather mask. I ate nothing and slept very +little, except under morphine. Whenever anyone spoke to me or looked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +at me I felt an impulse to burst out crying. I was assured, however, +that all this was a perfectly natural result of the operation.</p> + +<p>About this time I developed an excruciating pain in my right hip, +which admitted of no comfort, day or night; and when the orthopedic +specialist had probed deep into the hip joint and drawn off whatever +he could find—which wasn’t much—I discovered that this, also, was +a natural consequence of the operation. I learned (indirectly) that +I might perhaps have a stiff hip joint the remainder of my life, but +they advised me it were better not to worry about it, seeing that it +was not an uncommon result of a kidney operation. Unable to figure +out what communication a lacerated kidney on the left side could have +with a stiff hip on the opposite side, I asked the nurse; but for all +I learned I might as well have asked the orderly. So I gave it up—as +you have to do with all hospital problems that you attempt to solve by +questioning those in attendance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + +<p>To draw me off the subject my new nurse declared that my worst trouble +was a bad case of the “grunts”; and when I reported this to Doctor +Will, with the suggestion that he add it to my list of symptoms, he +passed it over with the usual remark that it was “only natural.” +Whatever I did, or said, or felt, or thought, seemed not to concern +anyone, because it was always perfectly natural; indeed it seemed as +if I were the most perfectly normal and natural patient in the whole +institution.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ATMOSPHERE_OF_DISSIMULATION"> +THE ATMOSPHERE OF DISSIMULATION</h2> +</div> + + +<p>I sometimes wondered what there is about the atmosphere of a hospital +that makes everybody prevaricate. If you ask what your temperature is +you get an evasive or dishonest answer; if you ask a civil question +about yourself, or anybody, or anything whatsoever, they all—including +your own people—seem leagued together in a solemn compact to deceive +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +you. And they justify their deceit on the ground that truthful answers +are “bad for the morale of the patient,” who is supposed to submit to +everything without question, obey all orders without objection, and +interfere with no local procedure. You hire the doctor, suffer all the +torments, and pay all the bills; yet you are given but little occasion +to feel that you are in any other respect regarded as a human entity. +You are merely a patient—known in hospital parlance by the number on +the door of your room. If you ask an intelligent question about your +own condition, the answer makes you feel as if you were prying into +their affairs. If you are feverish and irritable, and feel anxiety and +suspicion because you are being obviously deceived, you must content +yourself with believing that your attendants think they know better +than you about your condition and what is good for you.</p> + +<p>The first night at the Kahler hospital, my nurse on retiring said she +was a light sleeper, and to call her when I wanted anything in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +night. She would get up at seven and go to breakfast. Under a strong +opiate I slept fairly well through the latter part of the night, and +waking a little before seven, with a throbbing hip, and parched mouth +and throat, I attempted to wake her for a glass of water (her bed was +behind a screen across the room).</p> + +<p>“Miss Page!” I called in a loud whisper. No answer. Then louder—“Miss +<i>Page</i>!” Still no answer.... “Miss Page, did you say you were a +light sleeper?” About that time I felt like sneezing; and, I thought, +“if I can put this over strong it will surely bring her to.” So I drew +in a tremendous inhalation and let out a blast that seemed to shake +the room. When the reverberations had died away I listened, and the +death-like silence gave me a quaky feeling.</p> + +<p>Becoming alarmed, I reached for the telephone on the stand beside my +bed and asked the operator to ring my bell vigorously, as I couldn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> +wake my nurse. The ensuing clatter sounded like a fire alarm.</p> + +<p>“My God, the woman’s dead!” I thought. When I could stand the noise and +suspense no longer I cut in and called to the operator—“Send someone +up quick; there’s a dead nurse in my room!”</p> + +<p>In a short time there was a rush of feet coming along the corridor, +then the door was opened, the lights flashed on and several excited +people ran in.</p> + +<p>“Behind the screen!” I said. They all scurried across to the scene of +the supposed fatality. But the bed was empty! Half an hour later the +nurse came in smiling. “I got up early,” she said, “and slipped out +while you were asleep. Did you miss me?”</p> + +<p>We now approach the scenes that bordered narrowly on tragedy. Strangely +enough I had had much to do with tragedies the past year. I read +twenty-one of them by Æschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, but little +did I dream how near I was to becoming the central figure in a tragic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +drama with a modern hospital setting.</p> + +<p>A couple of days or so after the nurse episode Dr. Braasch came to see +me. He said he was making a special study of my case, and for some time +he listened attentively while I endeavored to explain how I felt. For +the first time I was encouraged to find that I had finally impressed +someone with the idea that all was not going well. With the parting +remark that he would call again in a few hours, he went out, leaving me +in a state of wonderment as to what the next move would be. A little +later, when Doctor Will made his customary morning call, he talked at +unusual length about the operation. He said his first impression on +seeing the infected kidney was to remove it; but on second thought, and +acting on the advice of his assistants, he decided to try to save it. +Therefore after spending nearly two hours cleaning out and repairing +it he stitched it up, put it back and sewed up the incision. He still +felt that his second judgment was correct. I disagreed with him, for I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +continued to grow steadily worse.</p> + +<p>“Doctor, that kidney must have <i>died</i> of the operation. I wish to +God you had taken it out and thrown it into the sewer; then I should +have been well rid of it,” I said in despair. “I’m poisoned, I tell +you, I’m <i>poisoned</i>!”</p> + +<p>But in his calm dialectical way he went on to explain several reasons +justifying his action, and others accounting for my condition. Finally +he convinced me that he was right; that my condition was only a natural +outcome of such an operation, and all I had to do was set my mind on +getting well. After he left I called in the family and said we’d play +auction bridge; that what I needed was action and diversion. They were +thunderstruck at seeing me climb out of bed and call for my dressing +gown and slippers. Though my head was in a constant whirl we played for +an hour, when Doctor Braasch came in and dropped into a chair, looking +rather troubled.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CALAMITOUS_VERDICT">THE CALAMITOUS VERDICT</h2> +</div> + + +<p>“What worries you, Doctor?” I asked. For a moment he looked at me, +perhaps wondering if it were best to make a clean breast of matters; +then without any mollifying preliminaries he said: “That kidney +will have to come out; it’s your only chance. Septicemia and uremic +poisoning have set in, and with the utmost haste we shall be none too +soon.” (Any physician will understand what a meager chance a patient +has under these conditions.)</p> + +<p>No judge in pronouncing the death sentence on a criminal ever dealt +a more staggering blow. It fell upon me like an earthquake upon a +tottering structure, and my emaciated physique proved unequal to the +shock. The whirling in my head suddenly increased and in my weakened +highly nervous condition when I thought of cutting in through the newly +healed wound, an oppressive darkness settled over everything and for a +brief space I passed out of the interview. When I came to, the first +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> +thing I noticed was that the air seemed fresh, and the ceiling had gone +back to its normal height. Doctor Braasch regarded me with an anxious +inquiring look.</p> + +<p>“Make it as quick as possible,” I said. “Lucky you discovered it.”</p> + +<p>“It was <i>you</i> who made the discovery,” he frankly admitted. He +then gave his orders to the nurse. Twenty minutes later I was on +the operating table; Doctor Will and his staff, with a considerable +audience of physicians, all in white masks and gowns, were standing +in readiness, and a nurse was saying, “Now relax and take deep +breaths.” The urgency was such that they broke all precedents of the +institution, since kidney operations were never done there, and Doctor +Will never operates in the afternoon, after operating in the morning. +A dozen or so doctors from the clinic having heard of the <i>affaire +extraordinaire</i> came in to view the proceedings.</p> + +<p>Were it possible to relate in detail what followed the next few +days it would only prolong agonizing scenes which would be more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> +depressing than diverting to both the reader and the writer. If it be +difficult for one with sympathetic tendencies to read of such harrowing +experiences, it is doubly hard to write about them.</p> + +<p>They changed my nurse for two others more skilled in surgical cases. +For the first time Doctor Will refrained from his customary jokes, and +whenever he called his face wore a look of seriousness. He was plainly +disturbed; he was also unusually tender and solicitous.</p> + +<p>From two or three sources my wife heard that kidney operations do queer +things to people, and some Gloomy Gus assured her that even if I got +well I’d be so peevish that no one could ever live with me. And on the +fourth day after the second operation she chanced to hear one nurse +remark to another in the corridor outside my door—“Isn’t it too bad +that Doctor Will’s patient in Number 88 is going out!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<p>Nowadays, hospital patients don’t <i>die</i>; they merely “<i>go +out</i>.”</p> + +<p>At night my sleep was broken and constantly haunted by all sorts of +weird dreams and illusions. If there is anything more boresome than the +act of listening to a detailed account of somebody else’s operation, it +is to lend an ear to some fantastic dream; but seeing that the ancient +writers used to lay great stress on these somnific aberrations I will +risk telling of a curious one that still haunts my memory. I dreamed +that someone had brought me a number of small sleep storage tanks, +resembling oxygen tanks, and told me that while I was getting my best +sleep in the early part of the night I should sleep them all full, then +later when the opiate wore off I would have a reserve supply to draw +upon. I took the tanks one by one, slept them full and after capping +them securely I laid them down carefully in a row. Later when I became +semi-wakeful and restless I took up one of the tanks to extract some +sleep from it; but to my amazement the cap had been removed and it was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +empty. I examined the others and found the sleep had all been drawn +off. For a moment I wondered who had tampered with my tanks; but the +villain was not far to seek, for lying serenely there beside the last +tank was a husky looking kidney, sound asleep!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FLIRTING_WITH_THE_SHADOWS">FLIRTING WITH THE SHADOWS</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Reluctant as I am to dwell upon the sad farewells incidental to the +departure of souls from this sphere, I feel that the history of this +episode would be incomplete without some account of the circumstances +and personal sensations attending the crisis. My strength having been +seriously impaired by the first operation and the resultant attack of +poisoning, after the second operation I sank lower and lower, until +the physicians practically abandoned all hope. And though I was kept +in ignorance of their diagnostic conclusions I sensed the gravity +of the situation both from my own feelings and from the mysterious +actions of those about me; and every time I closed my eyes it was with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +a feeling of final submission to what seemed the inevitable. Death, +which in the distance I had always pictured with unmitigated horror, +seemed now to have lost much of its terror; and though its proximity +gave me a ghastly feeling, in a way it appeared more like a messenger +of relief than a harbinger of ill. Sometimes in my desultory sleep +its phantom-like skeleton form seemed to move stealthily about the +room, its sunken eyes steadily fixed upon me; and once I imagined it +reposing beside me in the bed. The sensation was so shockingly uncanny +that I involuntarily put out my hand; and fancy my astonishment when I +awoke to find myself clutching the arm of the night nurse, whom I had +startled out of a comfortable doze at my bedside!</p> + +<p>On the fifth day it was decided that I had but a few hours left, and +that a transfusion of mercurochrome was the last forlorn hope. It +was a hazardous alternative and would either kill or cure in about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +forty minutes; but if it killed there was nothing to lose, for I was +lost anyway; if it cured there was everything to gain. A well known +physician, afflicted with septicemia in a neighboring hospital, had +taken it the day before, and died in thirty minutes. My wife asked one +of Doctor Will’s assistants for his honest opinion on the probable +outcome in my case; to which he answered, “He still has a fighting +chance. If he doesn’t die of uremic convulsions inside of forty +minutes, he may recover.”</p> + +<p>My family were brought together at the bedside.... Lying in a state of +semi-consciousness, I remember seeing one of the doctors approach the +bed with a huge bottle of reddish fluid (mercurochrome) to which a long +rubber tube was attached. Having no idea of what they were going to do, +and mistaking this for the usual pink mixture of loganberry juice and +castor oil, which I supposed they wanted me to drink through the tube, +I closed my eyes and set my teeth. Presently someone raised my arm, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> +then I felt the needle inserted, and when the fluid began to circulate +through the veins, my limbs became numb; and as the paralytic feeling +crept over my body it seemed as if the bed were slowly moving from +under me. Then I imagined my head was in the hub of a great horizontal +wheel which spun around with terrific speed for a while, and gradually +slowed down till it barely moved. Like the propeller of an aeroplane, +its momentum held me aloft over a deep chasm, and when the speed +slackened I could feel myself descending, feet first, into the depths. +I reached frantically about endeavoring to find something to cling to, +but there were no supports, and startled at the increasing rapidity +of my descent I opened my eyes—as one will awake from a terrifying +dream—and stared about, wondering why so many people had gathered in +my room. One physician clung to my pulse, while the other attendants +stood about with bowed heads. Suddenly I caught the meaning of it all, +and as I closed my eyes resignedly I felt my loved one’s tears on my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> +face. With a final conclusion that all was over, I remember whispering, +“Good-by; no flowers, please.” I knew nothing more for two days.</p> + +<p>I have heard that persons approaching the gates of Paradise have +been known to hear music and angel voices beckoning from within; +and although fully conscious of the fact that I was close upon the +portals of eternity I could catch not the slightest glimpse or sound +of anything beyond; which convinces me that there is at such times no +physical communication whatever between this world and Elysium, unless +perchance it happened that I was nearing the wrong gate.</p> + +<p>During the critical forty-minute interval, while five physicians +stood waiting the outcome, one of them quietly recommended that any +absent relatives be promptly notified. It was a toss-up with the Grim +Reaper—and I won; though the victory was not assured for several days.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> + +<p>Later when I inquired after a missing member of our party I was told +that about the time of the crisis he had been dispatched posthaste for +home to shovel the snow off the family lot.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ROAD_TO_RECOVERY">THE ROAD TO RECOVERY</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The rest of the story is in a somewhat lighter vein. When they first +lifted me from the bed and sat me in an easy chair for a few minutes, +I felt as I imagine a jelly-fish might feel after being stepped on. My +head wobbled about from one shoulder to the other like that of a newly +hatched bird, and altogether I felt as if I had scarcely enough stamina +to begin life over again. I well remember the comment of my nurse, +who was so delighted with having “pulled me through” and at seeing me +up in a chair that for a moment her Irish humor overcame the art of +simulation. After viewing me for some seconds with an estimating eye +she honestly confessed that I looked like the last piece at a remnant +sale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> + +<p>As I looked out of the window and saw figures moving about on the +streets it seemed as if I had migrated to some alien world, where +everything was topsy-turvy, and I asked the nurse why everybody was +walking backward.</p> + +<p>She smiled and shook her head.—“You’ve been very ill.”</p> + +<p>My head went round and round, as if it were on a swivel. A blustering +snowstorm was in progress and as the figures scurried about on the +street I was puzzled to know why they all faced the wrong way—how +they could tell where they were going, or when they arrived at their +destination. I was barely conscious of having once lived somewhere, on +some sphere, and I vaguely wondered if I should now have to begin life +anew and learn everything all over again, or if I could pick up the +broken threads and start where I had left off.</p> + +<p>My wife having heard that I was sitting up, came in. We talked for +a while, and somehow she appeared relieved to find how little I +remembered of what had happened the past few weeks. She seemed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> +glad that I was going to get well, perhaps because—among other +considerations—it lessened the burden on her conscience for having +pushed me into the first operation; and by way of making amends for +this, and also for scolding me about my stubborn refusal to get well +before the second operation, she said I had been a very good patient; +that I had been right all the while, and I knew more than all the +doctors, nurses and everyone else—even including herself—about what +ailed me. After this tremendous concession—which made me a little +suspicious that something had gone awry and some bad news must be +impending—she asked if there was anything I wanted. This seemed odd, +after getting used to being <i>told</i> what I wanted.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I said, “I want a new room.”</p> + +<p>“But you have a nice room, with plenty of air, light, private bath and +everything.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like it,” I said.</p> + +<p>“What is there you don’t like about it?”</p> + +<p>By this time I was becoming tired from overexertion. She afterwards +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> +told me that I looked wearily about, then resting my eyes on the +paneled oak door I said,—</p> + +<p>“The door is upside down—I want another room.”</p> + +<p>In the weeks that followed I had the usual run of bad days and nights, +when things looked gloomy and hope sank low, but all things considered, +my recovery was satisfactory to the physicians, though it seemed slow, +and at times uncertain, to me.</p> + +<p>A few days after my first experience of sitting up, Doctor Will came in +and found me nibbling on a piece of toast—the first solid food I had +taken in many weeks—which prompted him jokingly to remark that since I +was beginning to eat, the price of my board ought to be raised.</p> + +<p>“Doctor,” I said, “that reminds me of something that’s been worrying me +of late. You being one of America’s greatest surgeons, naturally I have +a patriotic pride in being operated on by you; but when I came here I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> +had no intention of giving you a steady job cutting me open and sewing +me up. One operation at a time by a great surgeon is usually as much +as any ordinary person can stand, either physically or financially, +and my Scotch instinct warns me that you are running me into ruinous +extravagance.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, my good fellow,” he said; “don’t let that bother you. We +are here to cure you, not to get your money; and when you get your bill +if it isn’t satisfactory all you need do is scratch out the amount and +fill in your own figures—whatever sum is agreeable to you, and that +will be our price.” But I was so elated over my recovery that it didn’t +occur to me to acquaint the office with this generous proposal.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUBCONSCIOUS_HALLUCINATIONS">SUBCONSCIOUS HALLUCINATIONS</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It is remarkable what latent powers of reminiscence and narration are +awakened by certain species of illness. In my case these ran chiefly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +along the lines of ancient history; and during the weeks of lucid or +semi-lucid intervals I nearly wore out both my night and day nurses +with Greek tragedies and Greek and Roman history and mythology. I +recited the action and described the mythical gods and heroes in no +less than a dozen Greek dramas, and at various times I discoursed at +length upon the satiric comedies of Aristophanes, the tragedies of +Euripides, the naval exploits of the great Themistocles, the eloquence +of Demosthenes, the philosophy of Socrates, and the superb sculpture +of Praxiteles. Then coming down five hundred years later to the days +of Roman grandeur, I quoted many long since forgotten passages from +Horace, Vergil and other poets and orators of the Golden Age. I +declaimed, almost word for word, a famous oration by Cicero (which I +had not read or heard since my school days, and of which I can now +recall scarcely a single line), and likewise while raving over the +epistolary attainments of Pliny the Younger I repeated the celebrated +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +letter he wrote to his friend Maximus on the subject of downfallen +Greece.</p> + +<p>Although the nurses and others who listened were dumfounded at such +harangues coming from an invalid, lying at times almost at the point +of death, they were not more astonished than I was, and still am, at +such abnormal volubility. The night nurse—a patient soul, who bore +the brunt of my hallucinations—afterwards told me she had been much +alarmed, because she had somewhere read that the lamp of genius often +flickers and throws out rays of unusual brilliance just before it +expires.</p> + +<p>One morning, when I was well on the way to recovery, the head nurse +looked in at the door and asked me how the “baby philosopher” was +getting along.—“When you get well you must write a book.”</p> + +<p>I said that was exactly what I intended doing the moment I got strong +enough to wield a pencil. By way of encouragement my day nurse—a +humorous, high-spirited Colleen—said it reminded her of an obscure +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +author she once had as a patient. During his illness he ranted +constantly about a wonderful story he had just conceived—one that +would make him both rich and famous; but a few days later he died +without revealing the plot to anyone but herself.</p> + +<p>“Bring me a pad and pencil immediately,” I ordered. She did so, and +most of this narrative was written in bed during the following weeks of +convalescence.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONCLUSION">CONCLUSION</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It is well known that the medical profession is constantly on the +alert for any new discoveries that will benefit suffering humanity; +and I am told that they welcome suggestions, even from laymen, that +may be helpful in achieving this end. One of the habitual aversions +that people have to clinics and hospitals is their arbitrary rules +and regulations, in complying with which patients feel that they are +obliged practically to relinquish all control over both body and mind. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> +Indeed I once heard a woman remark that she looked on these places as +she did on a jail. Doubtless this is an altogether wrong impression; +but nevertheless it prevails. We must assume that the first concern of +every physician is that his patients have not only the best care but a +complacent mind; and one way of helping to accomplish this desire is +for surgeons to invent some substitute for adhesive tape. And I wonder +if clinics and hospitals intend always to keep castor oil at the head +of their diet list.</p> + +<p>Furthermore if physicians were to establish a more mutual and candid +relationship with their patients, and authorize nurses and other +hospital attachés to treat them as rational human beings, possessed of +some knowledge of their own feelings—at least to the extent of knowing +whether they are getting better or worse—it might help to remedy a +condition which I once heard an eminent physician term “an emergent +deficiency.” +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote spa1"> +<p class="nindc"><b>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</b></p> + + +<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a +predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they +were not changed.</p> + +<p>A Table of Contents has been added for convenience.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75557 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75557-h/images/cover.jpg b/75557-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9305048 --- /dev/null +++ b/75557-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75557-h/images/i_logo.jpg b/75557-h/images/i_logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe60da8 --- /dev/null +++ b/75557-h/images/i_logo.jpg diff --git a/75557-h/images/i_titlepage.jpg b/75557-h/images/i_titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b6090d --- /dev/null +++ b/75557-h/images/i_titlepage.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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