"All through, doctor?"
"Yes, doctor."
"Very well, we will proceed."
And I was gradually pushed through the hall into the operating room. The process there was lightning-like. I was in torture.
"Lift me up, lift me up."
"What for?"
"I have one of those angina pains and I must ease it by getting up and taking some nitro."
That had been my practice, but I did not reason that never before had the pain come on my right side.
"Give him a whiff of ether." The tenderest arms stole around my head and the softest possible voice—Ulysses must have heard it long ago—"Now do take a deep breath." I resisted. I had been told that I would see the performance.
"Please do, breathe very deeply—just one good deep breath." That pain was burning the side out of me. I tried to get my hand up to my side. Of course it was tied down. I swore.