NEW SYMPTOMS AND THE PURSUIT OF HEALTH.
The pursuit of health is like the pursuit of happiness in that you do not
always know when you have either. It may furthermore be likened to chasing
a will-o'-the-wisp that ever keeps a few safe paces ahead of you. The
thought that I had to keep busy at something calculated to promote my
health was a habit that I could not easily relinquish. So now I began to
read up and practice physical culture--which I had always spoken of as
physical torture. I had read that any puny, warped little body could, by
proper and persistent training, be made sturdy and strong. I had no desire
to grow big, ugly muscles that look like knots, but I was effeminate
enough to think that a touch of physical culture might enhance my beauty
as well as make me healthier.
Calisthenics being an esthetic exercise, I began practicing it with the
usual enthusiasm that marked the beginning of all my undertakings. Before
I had made scarcely any progress I decided that fencing would be of
greater value to me, it being an exercise requiring precision of
movements, thus making it of much value in the development of brain as
well as of muscle. Just about the time my interest in fencing was keyed up
to the highest pitch, the friend with whom I was practicing accidentally
prodded me a little on the shoulder. This scared me into abandoning the
exercise as it seemed fraught with danger.
Having read that deep and systematic breathing was considered by many as
being the royal road to health for all whose stock of vitality is below
par, I determined to give it a thorough trial. Deep-breathing was a
pleasant exercise and easy to take; I kept it up for some time--perhaps
ten days. Perhaps I might have continued it longer had I not about that
time accepted the invitation of a friend to accompany him on an automobile
tour which required several days. When I returned I was so much improved
in health and spirits that I was looking at life from a new angle. I had
forgotten all about the needs of exercise and deep breathing.
About this time there was a vacancy in our city schools, occasioned by the
death of a popular teacher, and the School Board reposed sufficient
confidence in me to ask me to take the place. I finished out the term and
gave such satisfaction to pupils and patrons that the Board asked me to
accept the position for the ensuing year at an increased salary. But I
declined, on the ground that my health would not permit it. I was slipping
back into my old ways! New symptoms were appearing, but the old ones, like
old friends, seemed the firmest, and all made their return at varying
intervals.
Among other things from which I now suffered were insomnia, melancholia,
heart irregularity, and a train of mental symptoms and feelings which
common words could not begin to describe. It would have required an
assortment of the very strongest adjectives and adverbs to have told any
one how I felt. For the first time, my stomach was now giving me a little
trouble and my appetite was off. I went to see a stomach specialist who
looked me over and gravely informed me that I had _psychasthenia
anorexia_. This was a new one on me. For all I knew about the term, it
may have been obsolete swearing. I did not realize then that a little
medical learning to a layman is a dangerous thing.
This doctor prescribed exercise, as had all the others whom I had ever
consulted. As it was the consensus of medical opinion that I needed
exercise, I thought I would take it scientifically and in the right
manner; so I employed a qualified _masseur_ to give me massage treatment.
I thought passive exercise preferable to the active kind. This fellow,
however, did not try to please me--he insisted on rubbing up when I wanted
him to rub down, and _vice versa_--so I discharged him. Next I took up
swimming and rowing, but one day I had a narrow escape from drowning, so
that gave me a distaste for these things.
It seemed that I had about exhausted all the physical culture methods that
might be considered genteel and in my class. Perhaps it may be more
literally correct to say that I had formed a nodding acquaintance with the
most of them.
[Illustration: Informed me I had psychasthenia anorexia.]
One day, as I was wondering what new thing I could annex, the postman
handed me a letter. No psychology about this, for the postman comes
every day and I get letters nearly every day. But this letter contained an
advertisement of an outfit that was guaranteed to increase the stature.
Now I was tall enough, but I had a new vanity that I felt like humoring
just then. When I occasionally appeared at social functions I wanted to be
designated as "the tall, handsome bachelor." I thought that if I went
through a course of exercises stretching my ligaments and tendons it would
also conduce to health and strength. Growing tall ought to be healthy, all
right, I thought. So I got the apparatus--a fiendish-looking thing,
composed of ropes, straps, buckles, and pulleys--and I set it up in an
unused shed. I had taken exercises with it a few days and liked it
first-rate. One evening, about dusk, I went out to take my usual "turn"
and had just put on a head-gear suspended from a rope. This by a sort of
hanging act was to develop and elongate the muscles of the neck. Just as I
swung myself loose, two burly policemen hopped over the fence from the
alley, cut the rope, and were dragging me off to the lock-up in spite of
my pleadings and protests. I tried to assure them that I was not a
lunatic and that I was not bent on suicide. "Shure, thot's what they all
say!" was the cold comfort they gave me. As luck would have it, I at last
discovered that I had in my pocket some of the directions that went with
this new trouble-maker. I prevailed upon these big duffers to read it by
their flashlights, and it had its convincing effect upon them. In disgust
they released me, one saying to the other:--
"If I'd knowed thot, I'd let the dom'd fool hang a week!"
The next day I advertised the apparatus for sale, _cheap_.