I feel a kindred claim to cherish this little book, for although I have never taken a general anaesthetic yet I have had typhoid fever once, and pneumonia twice. It was during one such convalescence that I composed during a wakeful night what I dared call a sonnet. I am no poet but my overwrought nerves, chagrin, temper or some unknown caprice, induced the Muse to urge me to give birth to this thought: HELL IS NOT PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS Oh Bedpan! Implement of woe To one who is compelled to go In bed. Whence camest thou? Who first thought to make of thee a plan To minister to urgent need of man? No mind celestial ever gave thee birth. No human science ever tried to break The law by Isaac Newton found, And make go up what should go down. Let thine own anatomy quite frankly speak! Whether of clay or agate it is clearly read That fires Satanic were thy natal bed. Thou art a stolen quadrate, I know full well, From the tessellated pavement of deepest Hell. I have since used these words to cheer up suffering humans who rebel at fate and the unnecessary crimes of brutal attendants, which are the results of doctors’ orders. Mr. Harper has written of his remarkable experiences in a calm, humorous and analytical spirit. I recommend his story to professional and lay readers alike. MERELY THE PATIENT MERELY THE PATIENT A PAIN DISCOVERS ME THERE is said to be no subject on earth more entertaining (to the narrator) than a major operation; and two operations, especially if they fall close together, ought to be--for purposes of self-entertainment--twice as good as one. Thus reckoning, it will presently be seen that I have a decided advantage over those who have to content themselves with only one, or none at all. And it occurs to me that to write a book is the most considerate as well as the most expeditious means of acquainting your friends with the details of an operation or other painful experience; for in this way you can expatiate at large on the most harrowing aspects of the case, and everybody is at liberty to read as much or as little as he can stand, and skip the rest; whereas if you get the listener’s ear he is almost obliged to suffer attentively through to the end of your story. Furthermore, in a book you can advertise your troubles far more widely and effectively, and with less effort. Another advantage in writing a book on some pet theme is that, like a filibusterer in the senate chamber, you have the floor all to yourself: the difference being that while his verbosity is wholly without interest or sense, either to himself or his sleeping audience, your story is at least self-absorbing.