Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical LifeDoyle, Arthur Conan
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Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Medical fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
"Some people say that the more one has to do with human nature, and the
closer one is brought in contact with it, the less one thinks of it. I
don't believe that those who know most would uphold that view. My own
experience is dead against it. I was brought up in the
miserable-mortal-clay school of theology, and yet here I am, after
thirty years of intimate acquaintance with humanity, filled with
respect for it. The evil lies commonly upon the surface. The deeper
strata are good. A hundred times I have seen folk condemned to death
as suddenly as poor Walker was. Sometimes it was to blindness or to
mutilations which are worse than death. Men and women, they almost all
took it beautifully, and some with such lovely unselfishness, and with
such complete absorption in the thought of how their fate would affect
others, that the man about town, or the frivolously-dressed woman has
seemed to change into an angel before my eyes. I have seen death-beds,
too, of all ages and of all creeds and want of creeds. I never saw any
of them shrink, save only one poor, imaginative young fellow, who had
spent his blameless life in the strictest of sects. Of course, an
exhausted frame is incapable of fear, as anyone can vouch who is told,
in the midst of his sea-sickness, that the ship is going to the bottom.
That is why I rate courage in the face of mutilation to be higher than
courage when a wasting illness is fining away into death.
"Now, I'll take a case which I had in my own practice last Wednesday.
A lady came in to consult me--the wife of a well-known sporting
baronet. The husband had come with her, but remained, at her request,
in the waiting-room. I need not go into details, but it proved to be a
peculiarly malignant case of cancer. 'I knew it,' said she. 'How long
have I to live?' 'I fear that it may exhaust your strength in a few
months,' I answered. 'Poor old Jack!' said she. 'I'll tell him that
it is not dangerous.' 'Why should you deceive him?' I asked. 'Well,
he's very uneasy about it, and he is quaking now in the waiting-room.
He has two old friends to dinner to-night, and I haven't the heart to
spoil his evening. To-morrow will be time enough for him to learn the
truth.' Out she walked, the brave little woman, and a moment later her
husband, with his big, red face shining with joy came plunging into my
room to shake me by the hand. No, I respected her wish and I did not
undeceive him. I dare bet that evening was one of the brightest, and
the next morning the darkest, of his life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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