AT HOME.--NOTHING BUT A SKELETON.--A GOOD IMITATION OF LAZARUS.--A
DIGRESSION UPON THE SUBJECT OF SLEEPLESSNESS.--A WELL-INTENDED FRAUD
ON A HOSPITAL NURSE.--RETURN OF SLEEP.--IMPROVEMENT IN
HEALTH.--STOMACH THE ONLY DIFFICULTY.--A YEAR PASSES.--STOMACH
WORSE.--CONSTANT HEADACHE.--MUCH DEBILITATED.--AWFUL
SUFFERING.--BODILY AGONY DEBILITATES THE MIND.--SUFFERINGS
INTOLERABLE.--PHYSICIANS AND REMEDIES TRIED WITHOUT AVAIL.--FORLORN
HOPE AND LAST RESORT.--BETTER.--DOUBTS AS TO TREATMENT.--SUSPICIONS
CONFIRMED.--UNCOMPLIMENTARY REMARKS CONCERNING AN M. D.--UNCOMFORTABLE
DISCOVERIES AND REFLECTIONS.
On getting home and taking an inventory of myself, I found that I was but
a skeleton. Sores and scars soon covered me from head to foot. Decent
living was driving the corruption engendered by prison life out of my
system. So much of this stuff appeared on my skin, that I cannot but think
it was a very fortunate thing for me that it did come out in this way; for
had it lingered in me, and waited some slower process, it seems to me I
surely must have died. I began to have natural sleep at night, also. This
is a feature in my experience to which I should have referred before. I
cannot remember that I had any sleep at Wilmington, unless when we first
arrived. I could sleep none on the trip North, and when we got to
Annapolis, I told the attending physician that I had not slept for a
month,--for so it seemed to me,--and that I wanted him to give me some
medicine that would induce sleep. To this he objected, averring, that
being tired and having a clean body and clean clothing, I would now sleep
soundly. But I did not sleep at all, and the day following I was almost
distracted from the loss of much-needed sleep and rest. I so informed the
doctor, and he had a draught prepared for me; this sent me into a very
sweet sleep the succeeding night, and I awoke the next morning much
refreshed indeed. The ensuing night was sleepless again, the physician
refusing to prescribe anything for me. On the following night he did,
however, and I enjoyed another night's invigorating slumber and
recuperative rest.
With what felicity of expression and justice of observation the universal
Bard bodies forth the heavenly virtues of this ever-renewing well-spring
of life and health:
"Innocent sleep;
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast."
Since I suffered my great experience, I have had an inexpressible relish
of appreciation for the peculiar sweetness, simple truth, and inspiring
beauty of this rare gem of genuine poetry.
I could see that the doctor thought the medicine would be hurtful to me if
taken every night, and for that reason allowed me to have it only every
alternate night.
I felt that the sleep would, even with taking it, much more than
counterbalance all evil effects that would likely arise from the medicine,
and I determined to procure it if possible.
It was the custom of the doctor to prescribe his medicines, and leave the
prescriptions with the head nurse of each ward, who would go at a certain
time to the dispensary and get them filled. In cases where the same
medicines were prescribed each day, the same phials were used.
The phial which had been used for me I noticed still remained after the
physician had prescribed for our ward, one morning, without giving me
anything, and had gone; so when the hour for going after medicine came
around, I informed the head nurse that the doctor had prescribed my
draught for me as a general thing; that I was to have it every night, and
that he must not fail to get it for me. I startled the fellow; he looked
astonished.
"Why," said he, "I didn't hear him say anything about it. I guess not,"
etc.
"Yes, he did, though; I heard him," I replied; "and I want you to get it
without fail."
The stratagem was successful, and the duped nurse brought the medicine
regularly every day, and the result was that I slept every night, owing to
the kindness of the medicine, and my health began to improve from that
time; and I may say I noticed no injurious consequences or effects of the
medicine.
On arriving home, I told my mother of my inability to sleep. The first
night on my arrival home I did not, because, arriving in the night, I
could get no medicine; but the next day I spoke to my mother about the
matter, as I have stated, and she procured me some medicine. This I took
for a short time, when I discontinued it without any difficulty. I found
that I needed it no longer.
After this, for some time, my main and only trouble was with my stomach.
Although I had a good appetite, and was so hungry in _my mind_ that I
could not see victuals removed from the table, or scarcely a bone thrown
away, without feeling pained at the loss; I could not eat very much, as my
stomach seemed so diminutive that it would contain but a small quantity,
and what I did take into it seemed to turn to lead within me, or rather
into a pound of tenpenny nails, determined to cut and grind its way to the
outside. That is, it did not sour; my food digested (slowly and
painfully), but from some cause it hurt me continually. I gradually became
able to eat more; grew somewhat fleshy, and looked well; but my stomach
hurt me, nevertheless, _all the time_.
I did not apply for a pension within a reasonable time after coming home,
because my mother thought I was young, and would soon recover my health.
Alas! never was prophecy so contradicted or hope so defeated. For a year I
suffered from my stomach, keeping wonderfully well up in strength. At the
end of a year or more, I became afflicted with constant headache, viz.,
about 9 o'clock A. M., the headache would come on and continue during the
day. From the time I was liberated from Southern prisons (and in fact long
before I was released), up to the setting in of the daily headache, I had
been occasionally afflicted with it. Now, headache became one of the most
direful curses. From this time forward, for a year or more, I was on the
down-hill road. My stomach was much worse than ever, and my headache
became worse in proportion with my stomach. My body was very much
debilitated; I suffered fearfully, wretchedly. From the ravages made on my
entire physical system by constant headaches, and the terrible agonies and
torments of my stomach, my mind became debilitated. In my extremity, I
cried to God, and asked him why He so afflicted me! My sufferings were so
intolerable and continuous, that my face became the reflected image of
agony. My mother, God bless her! who could not conceive the uncommon
suffering I was enduring, and imagining that I might have some trouble on
my mind, begged me, in alarm, not to look so pain-stricken; that persons
were noticing the appalling expression of my countenance.
The reader will please remember that I was making my own living, during
all this time, as a clerk. I tried different physicians and remedies
without avail. Nothing seemed to benefit me, and I quit trying. At last a
physician in the town where I resided, in whom I had but little
confidence, and who for six months past had been endeavoring to get my
consent to allow him to treat my case, induced me to place myself under
his professional care. None of the rest had benefited me, and he could but
fail, and might do me some good. I would die if there were not a change
soon, and I could but do this at the worst under his treatment. Besides, I
wanted present relief from the most distracting pain. I was suffering
daily torment and torture, with a body weak and wasted, and a constitution
whose resisting power, before persistent and repeated assaults, had at
last given way; my mind was become greatly impaired, and my spirits had
sunk into a black midnight of despair.
"'Tis no time now to stickle over means and remedies; let him cure me who
can, or let me die if I must," I thought. Nevertheless, in going into this
physician's office, I emphatically charged him not to administer to me any
opium or morphia, as I had a horror of such things.
I perceived that he was going to use, in my case, what was a new
instrument in the practice there at that time, viz., the hypodermic
syringe. "Oh, have no fear," he replied, holding up at the same time a
phial of clear and colorless fluid; "this is no opium or morphia; it is
one of the simplest and most harmless things in the world; but it is a
secret, and no one in the town knows anything about it except myself." On
this assurance, I allowed him to inject a dose into my arm. This first
dose was too large, and nearly killed me or scared me to death, and I
determined not to go back to him again. And I would have adhered to my
determination, had he not accosted me at a hotel, about two weeks
thereafter, and asked me why I had remained away; and on my telling him
the reason, he entreated me to come back, saying, that as soon as he had
ascertained the right dose for me, he would certainly cure me. God in
heaven knows I wanted to be cured, and reasonably. I recommenced taking
the injections then, and allowed him full liberty to do what he could for
me.
Contemporaneously with the injections, though not by prescription from
this physician, but with his approval, I commenced taking carbonate of
iron.
This preparation of iron had been prescribed by another physician for one
of my sisters, who was suffering from neuralgia, and with good results; so
I thought it might probably have a beneficial effect in the case of my
headache and the generally debilitated condition of my system. I took
about one or two injections a week; sometimes, perhaps, I may have taken
one or two more. The number was varied by the frequency or infrequency of
the severer headaches. I did not go every day. I had headache every day,
but only submitted to the injection when it manifested itself more
severely than usual. The iron I took three times a day after meals. I thus
particularly notice the iron, because it had considerable to do in forming
an estimation of the results of this doctor's treatment, which I made at a
certain time. I continued the hypodermical treatment, taking about the
same number of injections for a couple of months, when I found myself
getting better, and in a much more substantial condition of health than I
had been for many a long day, or even year.
I felt, indeed, better; but I observed one peculiarity in my case that was
not comforting. It raised my suspicions, not having unlimited confidence
in my physician. But should my suspicions turn out well founded, I argued,
the great improvement in my health has justified my treatment, and I
cannot see yet that I am in any danger. Let me go on a little while
longer, until my health becomes permanently established, and then I will
drop this doctor and his treatment. I found that the taking of my medicine
had settled down into something like regularity, and when the time came
around that I was restless, lacking spirit, and unable to do anything to
any purpose till I had an injection.
Had such not been the case, everything would have been revealed at first,
and the terrible consequences averted; but, as it was, any suspicion of
the effect of the medicine--that is, immediate effect or _influence_--had
been forestalled in my mind by my having read, previous to this treatment,
that there were other drugs of similar effect; but when I noticed the
unmistakable evidences of the habit forming, I was troubled about it.
My fears were confirmed some time after by my coming in upon the doctor
whilst he was preparing the solution, and thus detecting him. I exclaimed:
"Ah ha, doctor, you have been giving me morphia." "Yes," he replied, "a
little; but the main part was _cannabis indicus_" (Indian hemp). I don't
know that he ever gave me a particle of _cannabis indicus_, for I know
that some time after, and from _that_ period on, he did not disguise the
fact that he was giving me the unadulterated sulphate of morphia. The
doctor soon found he had an elephant on his hands,--saw that I was in the
habit; became tired of my regular calls for hypodermical injections, and
endeavored to shake me off. After giving him fully to understand his
culpability in the matter, we parted.
Knowing, then, that I was simply an opium eater, I purchased my own
morphia at the drug-stores, and took it per mouth instead of by a
hypodermic syringe. Thus was I, as the notorious fly, invited into the
parlor of the deceitful spider, and met with something like the same sad
fate. Tripped up by an ignoramus who had hung about me for six months to
allow him to treat my case; who had brought me medicine which I threw
behind my desk, and never tasted; who had told me he had "taken a fancy to
me;" who used every persuasive art within his command to get me to his
office, and under his professional care, only for the purpose of giving me
bare morphia by way of a syringe!--while I, well duped and deceived, gave
his treatment all the credit which the iron I was taking should have
received for building up my broken-down health.
His treatment in _conjunction_ with the iron did me good; the morphia
killed the pain, and the iron built me up; one might not have done without
the other. I might have died but for the opium; but this fact does not
exonerate this blundering and perjured empiricist from the charge of
malpractice. He did my case, as he had done others before, and no doubt
has done many since, and will go on doing until Divine Justice calls him
to account, and sinks his abhorred countenance out of the sight of man. I
soon realized that I had experienced all the good results to be obtained
from the treatment, and that to go on longer would be injurious. So I
endeavored to discontinue the morphia, but found myself in the fangs of a
monster more terrible than the Hydra of Lake Lerna, and whose protean
powers it is not man's to know till it is too late to escape.
I discovered that the power to fight and overcome great obstacles in this
life, and which had always served me in my struggles theretofore, and
which I relied upon then, was the very first thing destroyed by the enemy,
namely, the will. Here I was, then, an opium eater. The outward effects
and injurious properties of the drug soon made themselves manifest: what
was I to do? Quit it, some may say; but no one well posted upon the opium
habit would use those words, so hard and feelingless. A reply like this, I
think, would betray more wisdom and humanity: "Your case is wellnigh
hopeless; I can give you no encouragement whatever; do your utmost to
release yourself from the unhappy predicament in which you have been
placed; and may God help you, for I fear you will need other help beside
your own."
"What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh, wretched state!"