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: