Forty Years in the Wilderness of Pills and Powders / Cogitations and Confessions of an Aged Physician

by William A. Alcott

It was fortunately about the middle of the forenoon one day,—an hour when his body and mind were in the best condition to endure it,—that his listening ear first caught from those around him the word consumption. Starting up, he said, "Do you think my disease is consumption?" They frankly told him their fears. "And do you think," he added, "that I must die?" They did not conceal longer their real sentiments.

He was for a few moments greatly distressed, and seemed almost overpowered. At length, however, a reaction came, when, raising his head a little, he deliberately but firmly exclaimed, "I can't die, and I won't die." After a few moments' pause and reflection, he said, "I must be got up." His attendants protested against the effort, but it was to no purpose. Nothing would satisfy him but the attempt. He was bolstered up in his bed, but the effort brought on a severe fit of coughing, and he was obliged to lie down again.

The next forenoon, at about the same hour, he renewed the request to be got up. The result was nearly as before. The process, however, was repeated from day to day, till at length, to the great joy and surprise of his friends, he could sit in his bed fifteen or twenty minutes. It is true that it always slightly increased the severity of his cough; but the paroxysm was no worse at the twentieth trial than at the first, while he evidently gained, during the effort, a little muscular strength. It was not many weeks before he could sit up in bed for an hour or more, with a good degree of comfort.

"Now," said he, "I must be taken out of bed and placed in a chair." At first his friends remonstrated, but they at length yielded and made the attempt. It was too much for him; but he persevered, and after a few repeated daily efforts, as before, at length succeeded. Continuing to do what he could, from day to day, he was, ere long, able to sit up a considerable time twice a day.

He now made a third advance. He begged to be placed in an open carriage. As I must be brief, I will only say that, after many efforts and some failures, he at length succeeded, and was able to ride abroad several miles a day, whenever the weather was at all favorable. Nor was his cough at all aggravated by it. On the contrary, as his strength increased, it became rather less harassing and exhausting.

One more advance was made. He must be helped, as he said, upon a horse. It was doubtful, even to himself, whether he had strength enough to endure exercise in this form; but he was determined to try it. The attempt was completely successful, and it was scarcely a week before he could ride a mile or two without very much fatigue.

The final result was such a degree of recovery as enabled him to ride about on horseback several miles a day for six years. He was never quite well, it is true, but he was comfortable, and, to some extent, useful. He could do errands. He could perform many little services at home and abroad. He could, at least, take care of himself. At the end of this period, however, his strength gave way, and he sank peacefully to the tomb. He was completely worn out.

Now the principal lesson to be learned from this story is obvious. Determination to live is almost equivalent to power to live. A strong will, in other words, is almost omnipotent. Of the good effects of this strong determination, in case of protracted and dangerous disease of this sort, I have had no small share of experience, as the reader has already seen in Chapter XXIII.

Another fact may be stated under this head. A young man in southern Massachusetts, a teacher, was bleeding at the lungs, and was yielding at length to the conviction—for he had studied the subjects of health and disease—that he must ere long perish from consumption. I told him there was no necessity of such a result, and directed him to the appropriate means of escape. He followed my directions, and after some time regained his health. Ten or twelve years have now passed away, and few young men have done more hard work during that time than he; and, indeed, few are able, at the present moment, to do more. It is to be observed, however, that he made an entire change in his dietetic habits, to which he still adheres. He avoids all stimulating food—particularly all animal food—and uses no drink but water.

I did not advise him, while bleeding, to mount a hard-trotting horse, and trot away as hard as he could, and let the blood gush forth as it pleased. It is a prescription which I have not yet hazarded. I might do so in some circumstances, when I was sure of being aided by that almost omnipotent determination of which I have elsewhere spoken. I might do it occasionally; but it would be a rare combination of circumstances that would compel me. I might do it in the case of a resolute sea captain, who insisted on it, would not take no for an answer, and would assume the whole responsibility. I might and would do it for such a man as Dr. Kane.