“Not in this state. Indiana requires that parties to a marriage swear to their freedom from venereal disease and certain other ailments. Other states have followed suit. Every state ought to.”
“Why didn’t Dr. Emery go to the girl’s father, then?”
“Because of our damnable law,” returned the Health Master with a sudden and rare access of bitterness.
“You mean that the law forbids?”
“It holds the physician liable for any professional confidence violated.” Dr. Strong rose and paced up and down the room, talking with repressed energy. “Therein it follows medical ethics in its most conservative and baneful phase. The code of medical conduct provides that a physician is bound to keep secret all the private affairs of a patient, learned in the course of practice. One body, the American Institute of Homoeopathy, has wisely amended its code to except those cases where ‘harm to others may result.’ That amendment was passed with particular reference to venereal disease.”
“What about contagious disease?” asked Mr. Clyde. “Doesn’t the law require the physician to report diphtheria, for instance, and thus violate the patient’s confidence?”
“Certainly it does. All schools recognize that principle of protection to the public. Yet, in the case of syphilis or gonorrhoea, when the harm to the public health is far greater than from any ‘reportable’ disease except tuberculosis, the physician must hold his peace, though he sees his patient pass out of his hands bearing fire and sword and poison to future generations. There’s the Ban of Silence in its most diabolical form!”
Mr. Clyde regarded his household physician keenly. “I’ve never before seen you so stirred,” he observed.
“I’ve reason to be stirred.” The Health Master whirled suddenly upon his friend and employer. “Clyde, you’ve never questioned me as to my past.”
“No.”