So in this case the doctor had cured a disease which had no existence, while the lady, in consequence of the disease which had no existence and which had been cured, continued to consider herself as ill as before.
Unfortunately, some cases of failure are less amusing than this one, and have a more tragic ending. I have on record several instances in which patients were treated as if a morbid craving for sympathy were the cause of their illness, whereas it was in one case merely a symptom of the disorder; in another, it was induced by the withholding on the part of others the helpful sympathy with suffering which we all of us need, and which we should all of us be ready to give; and in other cases there was no proof at all of its existence. The results were extremely sad. One lady, who had been treated to isolation and the interference of incompetent nurses, became insane. A young man who had been forced to exert himself became epileptic; another became partially paralysed. These are solemn warnings. Those who have lain for a length of time in bed are often more easy to cure than those who have long dragged themselves about in pain and weakness. This is the interpretation, I suspect, of the saying that it is the half-ill who are most difficult to relieve. By the half-ill is meant those who are still dragging themselves about, though they are often more ill than those who are lying in bed.
Nervous exhaustion, as has been abundantly proved, is not usually difficult to cure. Even epilepsy, if taken in time, yields satisfactorily to rational treatment.[4] And if only nervous exhaustion were better understood, the numbers of our insane and epileptic patients would at once be marvellously reduced. Unhappily, the fantastic means too often resorted to in order to cure supposed hysteria destroys the patients’ faith in medical men, and renders them unwilling to submit to further experiments. If only one could get hold of them in the early stages of the disease, much suffering might be saved in the future. When this is done, it sometimes happens that the patient does not realise how much misery he has been spared, and is not proportionately grateful.
The other day a lady in a sadly overworked condition consulted a very well-known medical man. He informed her that she was suffering from “hysteria,” and recommended her to seek active employment. The lady, not being a homœopath, objected to the proposed treatment. Since she was suffering from fatigue, of what use could it be to prescribe fatigue as a cure? The inexorable doctor took refuge in the imperative mood,—a very favourite refuge when the patient has been labelled “disease unknown,”—and she was overruled. With misplaced confidence and reprehensible docility, she forced herself back to her work. Shortly afterwards she had to be placed under care.
A worthy great-uncle of mine was one morning engaged in doctoring the out-patients at the hospital he attended, when a poor woman addressed him in pathetic tones, begging him to cure the malady in consequence of which she endured unutterable things.
“Certainly, my good woman,” he said cheeringly. “What’s the matter?”
“I have a newt, sir,” was the unexpected response.
“A what?”
“A newt, sir, inside me.”
My uncle then recognised the case as being what he called “hysterical.”