_Monday._--Am sick of paying all these doctor's bills. Have just seen
an advertisement of _The Domestic Doctor, a Dictionary of Medicine_,
issued in monthly parts. The very thing for a man like me, somewhat
delicate. Hasten to secure Part I. Shall now be able to doctor myself
and save all fees. Delightful! To celebrate emancipation ask JONES
and ROBINSON to dinner at club. No need for economy now. Jolly good
dinner. That club port is excellent.
_Tuesday._--Feel rather seedy. Pain in head. No appetite. Just the
time to make use of _Domestic Doctor_. Capital book. Hullo! Well, I'll
be hanged! Never thought of that. The beastly thing's alphabetical,
and only gets to "Chilblain." No good to look out "Headache." Ah,
perhaps "Ache." No go. "Appetite?" But appetite isn't a disease,
except in men like BANTING. Absolutely no use whatever. Still, will
not be conquered. Shall get another part in a month. Until then take
great care only to have complaints up to Ch. Can always fall back
on Chilblain. Take it easy, with B. and S. in moderate doses when
required, and begin to feel better.
_Wednesday._--Just cut my finger. Feel somewhat nervous. Remember
vaguely that lock-jaw often follows a wound on the hand. Ha! My
dictionary. "Cuts." Ah, no. "Cuts" come after "Chilblain." They will
be in Part II. Bandage wound, and prepare for the worst. Sit with
mouth wide open as best attitude for approaching lockjaw. Can then at
least be fed. If, however, it really comes, shall be dead before Part
VII. of the Dictionary is out. Anyhow, will not send for a doctor.
_Thursday._--Hooray! Finger and jaw both well. Somehow left boot feels
uncommonly tight. Can't walk at all. That fool PHUST has made this
pair too narrow. Feels as though there were something on my toe.
By Jove, so there is! Where's the Dictionary? Chilblain? Can't be
a chilblain this mild weather. Of course not; it's a corn. Look out
"Corn." Oh, hang it, just too far! But, bright idea, perhaps it's a
bunion. Look out "Bunion." Hullo, what's this? "Bunion, see Corn."
Well, of all the confounded----Positively can't walk till next month.
Lie on sofa under open window to get as much air as possible. Fall
asleep. Heavy shower comes on. Get quite wet.
_Friday._--Sneezing like mad, and coughing. Blow my cough! Blow my
nose! No good looking out "Cold" or "Cough" in Dictionary, unless--of
course "Catarrh." Seize my priceless treasure, and read, "Catarrh,
Latin _catarrhus_, from Greek"--oh, hang the derivation!--"an
affection of the mucous membrane, commonly called a cold. See Cold."
Foiled again! Must do what I can with domestic remedies till Part II.
comes out. Fires, hot grog, hot bath, hot gruel, lots of blankets.
Nearly suffocated.
_Saturday._--Very much worse. Awful cough. Sit close to fire wrapped
in thick dressing-gown. JONES looks in. "Hullo, old man," he says,
"what's wrong? Seedy?" I choke out some answer. "Why don't you send
for the doctor?" In my indignation nearly burst my head with coughing.
At last show him Dictionary, and write on scrap of paper, "Can you
suggest some complaint like mine beginning with A or B, or C up
to Ch?" Impetuous fellow, JONES. Starts off wildly--"Influenza,
Pneumonia, Pleurisy, Diphtheria, Sore Throat, Inflammation of the
Lungs----" Then I manage to stop him, and to gasp, "Up to C." "No
difficulty about that," says he. "Cold. Cough----" I shake my head
feebly. "Well, then, Bronchitis." Of course. The very thing. Look it
out. "Bronchitis, from Greek"--blow the derivation!--"inflammation of
the membrane of the bronchia. This serious disease requires skilled
attention. Keep the patient warm, and send at once for a medical man."
What a miserable swindle, when I hoped to save all doctor's fees! Was
warm before. Simply boiling with indignation now. Pass the book to
JONES in speechless disgust. "Quite right too," he remarks; "just what
I said. Capital book! I'll send the doctor as I go home." And so he
does, in spite of my protests. Doctor comes and lays his head on my
chest. Then he says, cheerfully, "Only a little cough. You'll be all
right to-morrow. What's that you say? Bronchitis? Bosh!"
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[Illustration: _Horsey Party._ "AW--I WANT YOUR TABLE D'OAT DINNER!"]
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