STANDING PATIENTS.
Medical men well know--should any such condescend to look over this
volume--what is meant when I affirm that I was not long in securing to
myself a good share of _standing patients_. They are the dread, not to
say the curse, of the profession. And yet they abound. They are found
throughout the length and breadth of the land, and in great numbers.
They are a class of persons, not always of one sex, who hang
continually, like an incubus, on the physician, and yet are forever a
disadvantage to him. They are never well enough to let him alone, and
yet seldom ill enough to require much medical advice or treatment. And
yet, medicine they will have, of somebody, even if they go to the
apothecary for it, without so much as the semblance of a medical
prescription of any sort. But then, after all, they are seldom reduced
to any such necessity. They usually have on hand prescriptions enough of
some sort. A dearth of Yankee physicians--could such a thing possibly
occur--would still leave us a supply of Indian doctors, mesmeric
doctors, nutritive doctors, etc., etc., to say nothing of doctresses, in
liberal abundance, ever ready to prescribe.
When I succeeded Dr. ----, in the chair of medicine, surgery, etc., at
----, I received, as if by contract, if not by inheritance, his whole
stock of standing patients. They were not slow to _call on_, sometimes
to _call in_, the new doctor. Nor was I often long in the house before
comparisons began to be made between my predecessor and myself. They did
not, of course, directly traduce or slander Dr. ----, but they were very
careful to intimate that, having got his name up, he had grown careless
about his patients, especially such of them as did not belong to his
clique, political or sectarian; and that, on this account, they were
almost willing to part with him, and to receive and accept as his
substitute one who was not only younger and more active, but also less
tinctured with conservatism and aristocracy!
A very large amount of valuable time was spent during the first year of
my practice as a physician, in endeavors to do good to these very
devoted and loving and loyal patients; for if they did not always call
me when I had occasion to pass their doors, I knew full well they
expected me, and so I usually called. Besides, in many an instance I was
sent for in post haste, with entreaties that I would come and see them
immediately; and no atonement for neglect or even delay--if such neglect
or delay was ventured--would suffice. And yet, despite of their fears of
"monarchy and aristocracy," they were my most truly aristocratic
patients. They expected me to come and go at their request, whether
anybody else was attended to or not. And, to add to the vexation of the
case, though they boasted of having paid most enormous bills to my
predecessor, they never, if they could avoid it, paid any thing to me.
Now, I do not suppose that every medical man has as large a share of
these standing patients as fell to my unhappy lot; but from the
knowledge I have acquired of mankind, and from the acquaintance I have
necessarily formed with medical men, I do not think I err when I affirm
that they are everywhere numerous, and that they are everywhere not only
a pest to society at large, but particularly so to the physician.
But the worst feature of the case is, that after all our efforts, we can
seldom, if ever, cure them. They are always hanging upon us like an
incubus; and yet like Solomon's daughters of the horseleech, are never
satisfied. They take the medicine, and follow the advice, if they _like_
it; or they take such parts of it as they choose, and reject the rest.
Or they take the advice and follow us to-day, but get discouraged and
abandon us, at least practically, to-morrow; especially if some smart
young physician happens to come along, who has more than an average
share of empiricism and pretension, and more than he has of real merit.
I must here confess, among other confessions, that at first I was not a
little deceived by their open countenances and concealed thoughts, and
unintelligent and hence unconfiding professions. It was a long time
before I relinquished the hope of doing them good; or at least a portion
of them. But I was at length compelled. There was nothing on which to
build. If a foundation seemed to be laid one day, it would disappear the
next.
One fundamental difficulty lay in the way of these persons to health, as
it has to thousands of others. They were all the while talking or
thinking about themselves, their ailments and woes and abuses and
neglects. They were particularly inclined to turn their attention to
their own diseased feelings. Now it may be pretty safe to say that no
individual can fully recover from chronic disease,--nervous, stomachic,
or glandular--who is always turning his thoughts inward, and watching
his own feelings, and perhaps relating his woes to every one he meets
with. We must learn to forget ourselves, at least a part of the time,
and think of others, if we are in earnest to get rid of chronic disease.
I do not say, of course, that everybody would recover of disease, even
if they acted right in every particular; but this I _do_ say, that if
every person who is ill would act wisely, and if their physicians, in
every instance, were wise enough to take the best course, the number of
these standing patients would soon dwindle to a very small remnant.
Instead of thousands, or tens of thousands, it would soon be reduced to
hundreds.