“The woman will do just about what I tell her. She is business-like, and so am I. I think she will stand for $200. Now, if you can see any money in that after giving me $100, I’ll send her to you; if not, why I know plenty of others who will take the case on those terms. She is my meat, and will go where I say. I am not charging $100 for my time, but for steering the case to you. This is my game and I can steer the case where I please,” etc.
Nothing modest or backward, no hesitancy about this. The writer comes bluntly to the point, without false delicacy or reserve. Well, to give the devil his due, the fellow was honest in his straightforwardness. He knew what he wanted, and didn’t hesitate to ask for it. And the doctor who received the letter? Well, to tell the truth, he had conscientious scruples against that sort of thing, so he lost the case. Another physician of equal prominence got the patient, presumably on the terms named by the writer of the letter.
Speaking of deals between physicians and undertakers, Dr. G. Frank Lydston says:
“Over on the great West Side lives an undertaker friend of mine, who, in deference to his ancient and honorable vocation, we will call Mr. Watery Weeps. My friend Weeps has an eye to business; in faith, he has two eyes to business—both of ‘em red; some say from ‘red eye’ homeopathically applied. I do not believe this theory regarding Mr. Weeps’ headlights. Their peculiar bicycle lamp glow, like their excessive humidity, is due to his faithful, sorrowful ‘proxifying.’ In the course of my practice it did befall that a certain pulmonopathic vassal of mine—we will designate him as Mr. One-Lung, insomuch as he had no other lung—did feloniously, with malice prepense and aforethought and intent to deceive, up and die. Having a corpse on my hands, I naturally bethought me of my post-medical friend, Weeps, who undertaketh much in that vicinity. Weeps was prompt, and my late friend of the pulmonary solitaire was soon duly boxed and crated, ready for shipment to his ancestral home in ‘Injianny,’ whereupon quoth Weeps, lachrymosing his prettiest the while:
“‘Ahem, Doctor, I am very much obliged to you for the favor you have shown me. I hope to do a large share of your business in the future. I expect a check for this job to-morrow, and will then extend to you the usual courtesies to the medical profession.’
“‘Ah,’ I replied, ‘and what might that be?’
“‘Why, 25 per cent. I call that pretty good, too, considering the hard times, don’t you Doctor?’
“And my friend Weeps still thinks I was bluffing when I declined the ‘usual courtesies.’ Truth is strange, passing strange—stranger than fiction.”
Then there is another class of physicians who will not hesitate to take advantage of a brother practitioner if they can do so to their own benefit. This is done in several ways: One method is to misrepresent the financial status of the patient whom he takes to an expert for consultation. It is not long since a physician called up another by telephone and arranged for him to see a “poor patient” who could only pay a small fee for consultation. The doctor thus called upon discovered that the patient, who was a wealthy stock raiser from the West, had paid his doctor friend a good fee already, and had arranged to pay him $200 more for the prospective operation—which the second doctor was expected to tell his friend how to do.
It is frequently the case that general practitioners call a consultant without making arrangements for the fee beforehand. It is unpleasant to spend half a day or night in consultation and then have the doctor say: