The Diary of a Doctor Who Tells

Evening Star, Issue 23373, 16 September 1939, Page 3

The Diary of a Doctor Who Tells

Monday, September 11. “ We’re in terrible trouble,” -said young Paul Trinlett. “ Mother’s just been arrested for theft.” “ Your mother? ” I said, startled out of consulting room composure. “ Yes,” he said, “ I was rung at work an hour ago, and I’ve just come from the station. Of course I was furious and said that they were making a great mistake. And then mother finished everything by bursting into tears and confessing she had done it. 1 . . . I . . . just don’t know what to do . . . You’ve looked after her and us for years, and, I thought you might be able to do something . . . or advise us . . .”

He looked helplessly through me at the grim priseri Iris mind’s eye saw out of the window. “ You musn’t mind me asking,” I «aid, “ but has your mother ever had any trouble like this before? ” ‘‘lndeed not,” he said indignantly. “ Nor for that matter has anyone else in the family. I£ poor old dad was alive it’d kill him.”

I went down to the police station, and the sergeant, who is a pal of mine, shrugged his shoulders philosophically. “ It’s got me beat,” he said. “ But then, of course, we see all sorts of curious things here . . . same as you do in your job, Doc. But why, in the name of goodness Mrs Trinlett, aged 68, comfortably off and a proud mother and grandmother, would want to pinch half .a dozen handkerchiefs . . . well >!

“ Could I see her? ” I asked. “ I’ve been attending her lately for high blood pressure.” “ She said she felt a bit sick, so I suppose she’s got a right to a doctor,” said the sergeant, leading the way. The kindly staff left us alone for five minutes or so. The newly-acknowledged criminal seemed a little vague about it air. : She alternately wept and talked about things having nothing to do with the case, as Gilbert and Sullivan have it. “ If there’s any bother,” I said to the sergeant, as I left. “I’m quite willing to give evidence that her medical condition may have had something to do with it all. She’s prematurely senile. I think.” “ Okay, Doc.,’’ he said. “ I’ll tell the family.”. The sergeant summed it up pretty .well. People don’t wreck a lifetime of honesty for half a dozen handkerchiefs. You see the same sort of thing in men in their late sixties who suddenly get into trouble about sex offences. Glands can have something to do with it, as also can early senile decay. The law has been dragging wearily behind science for'many years. Lately juvenile delinquency has come in for more earnest investigation than of yore, but it is not so many years ago that hoys of 10 were transported for seven vears for stealing a hat a and men were Ranged for poaching. It would be absurd to claim that all crime was due to physical or psychological disease. But it would not be at all absurd to point out that preventive medicine has an equally important future in juvenile delinquency as in juvenile diphtheria. Tuelday, September 12. “ But it’s just about impossible for me to get any exercise,protested Harold Dixonson this evening, in response to my suggestions along that line. “ T don’t play golf like some fellows, and anyhow I can’t afford it. I’m too old for tennis, and what else is there? I live in a fiat, and can't garden,”

Law Without Science

In poisoning, speed is the essence of the contract. That is why it is sometimes better to get the patient straight to the hospital instead of ringing up on the off-chance that the family doctor is in.

“ There’s no better exercise for tho middle-aged than walking,” I said. “ Whether you do it on the golf course or in the near-by countryside, or even up and down the suburb doesn’t matter very much.” There’s nothing new under tho sun ... or very little. For centuries doctors have been telling tho advantages of exercise, rest and proper foods, and still the anthem has to be sung. Tonight I have been reading the words of. a certain Mr Charles Deering, a physician of 200 years ago. _ He says:— “ Those whose trade obliges them to sit much require some other means to promote circulation of the juices . . . and to promote the body in health and vigor, tne principal of which are walking and riding.” Those who live in flats might do worse than consider the purchase of a little week-end country cottage, where the air is clean and exercise easily available.

Wednesday, September 13. There was crying at the other end of the telephone. “ It’s my husband,” said a voice. “ Oh, do come. He’s taken poison, arsenic, ho says.” “Who’s speaking?” I said. “Mrs Ryjou,” was the reply. “Oh, you will come quickly, won’t you. What can I do? ” “ Listen carefully.” I said. “ Give him a desertspoonful or so of mustard in half a cup o£ water. It should make him sick at once. Keep giving it till it comes back clear. Then give him as much olive oil as he’ll take. I’ll be there by then.” The phone clicked the,cut-off signal, and I ran to the surgery to get the chemical antidote. The car was standing at the front gate, and we were soon under way.

An emetic, followed by plenty of milk, raw eggs, or salad oil, is useful emergency treatment for most poisons other than those that burn and scar the mouth.

There is, of course, the story of the first-aid examinee who, being asked the emergency treatment for poisoning, said it to give the patient an anecdote.

Thursday, September 14. He was a stranger, and on entering the room said he had merely come for a bit of advice 1 rather than treatment.

“ I’ve got a duodenal ulcer,” he said. “ They’ve told me it’s due to too much cigarette smoking, and advised mq to cut it out altogether. I like smoking, and I thought it mightn’t do anv harm to get another opinion, though I know you doctors don’t like contradicting one another.” “While admittedly, there is a certain amount of loyalty among doctors, that’s not the only reason we don’t like talking about other people’s cases,” I replied. “ The other man knows the whole story. < The new doctor mightn’t know one-tenth of it. We treat patients. not just diseases, you know.” “ An elegant defence.” smiled the Stranger. “So you won't toll me about smoking and duodenal ulcers? ” “ T'll tell yon all I know.” I said. “In the first place, it_ is true that wo notice a strong relationship between the two, though there arc occasional duodena! ulcer patients who don I smoke at all.

“Mv own opinion, for what it’s worth,” I continued, “ is that duodenal ulcers occur in people who have an underlying anxiety state. These people, if they smoke, often smoke excessively in chain fashion. This may help to accentuate the general nervous reaction to the worries from which they suffer.” “And what can. you do about it all? ” askd the visitor. “ The ulcer can he treated, and it probably helps to reduce the smoking,” I replied. “ But I feel that, in combination with medical treatment—which is. of course, essential—it is necessary to try and cure the patient of me disease from which his nerves and psychological outlook suffers. These patients, in my experience, are most conscientious people and prime worriers. T try and get them to see that every job has its worries, but that life has unbounded happiness despite that.” “ It’s all very well to say ‘ don’t worrv so much,’ ” sighed the stranger. “ I know.” I said. “ But the necessity remains as urgent all the same. You’ve got to learn not so much to take life on the chin, as to take it with a smile. Half the criticism you get is helpfully meant, and it’s exceedingly unlikely that you get more of it than the next man. It’s just that you feel it more.”

The man regarded me thoughtfully. Then he stood up and put his hand in his pocket. “ Here’s half a guinea,” he said, and left abruptly.

Friday, September 15. From this week’s reading:—Mind over matter. “ Mind! and body are so closely related, that what tends to upset the one tends also to upset the other.” Did someone mention dyspepsia, headaches, or even duodenal ulcer? For Freudians.—lt is true that sex is an important influence in our actions. Girls should particularly be careful of that hoyological urge. Names in this Diary are fictitious. (Copyright.).