THE DIARY OF A DOCTOR WHO TELLS

Evening Star, Issue 22572, 13 February 1937, Page 2

THE DIARY OF A DOCTOR WHO TELLS

EARLY TREATMENT ESSENCE Of CURE Monday, February 8. Two new patients confessed to me to-day that they should have visited me some months ago. They were Mnroia Wright, who has noticed a growth getting bigger the last few weeks, and Harry Weirly, who has been “off colour” and the owner of an irritating cough since' last September. In plain words, they represented respectively cases of cancer and tuberculosis, two conditions where ' early treatment is tho essence of cure. There are two factors which seem to prevent people consulting a doctor at a sufficiently early stage to get best results in treatment. The first is absence of pain and the second is fear of the verdict. The severity of pain is usually the criterion by which, people judge the necessity or otherwise of seeking advice. It is forgotten that a painless growth may ho just as dangerous as a painful one, and that the chronic tiredness of early tuberculosis may be just as serious a symptom as the' chronic pain of, a stomach nicer. Fear of the verdict is more apparent when it is likely to be a serious one. To pretend that a dangerous thing doesn’t exist is an age-old device, none tho less futile because it is used extensively in one or two modern healing cults. “ The family have been at me for some time,” said Harry frankly, and stopped to cough. When he had recovered from tho bout he added: “I expect I was rather scared that I’d have to get right down to it if I gave in.” It isn’t heroic to refuse to. give in to a disease to which you will be forced to give in later. Rather it is the reverse. And it’s not to the advantage of the medical profession to urge prompt visits to themselves for all who have the slightest suspicion of an ailment. Actually the chief part of a doctor’s income probably comes from treatment of long illnesses which often might have been prevented had they been detected ' in their earliest warning stages. Tuesday, February 9, “ I’m giving him only natural foods in their natural states,” said Mrs Barley proudly to me in speaking of her treatment of her invalid husband. “ I hardly cook anything for him, and now he can take his eggs raw without the slightest fuss. So much better for him, isn’t it?” “ I’m all for uncooked fruit and salads,” I replied, “ hut the idea can be overdone if applied too widely. Eggs, for instance, are actually more easily absorbed and digested if cooked, and certain vegetables, like potatoes, are better cooked reasonably than chewed solemnly, in their natural state.” Eggs remain, with milk, tho finest food. The yolk has, besides its food value, such valuable things as Iron, phosphorus, salts of soda, potassium, lime, and magnesium . . - all very necessary for the body. The white is more useful than is generally supposed, being rich in elements indispensable to full nutrition. WSEBSSm Wednesday, February 10. “ We no sooner get rid of one plague than another comes along,” said a patient to-day. “ This influenza business seems to me to be every bit as bad as the plagues of Egypt and probably twice as dangerous. I hope to goodness it stays in Europe this time and isn’t brought out here.” I agreed that influenza in tlie bad form in which it appeared just after the war was just as bad as plague, but disagreed that it was anything new in the world’s history. “ We’ve never heard about it in history like we’ve heard about smallpox, tuberculosis, and malaria,”, argued the patient. ‘ ‘ Merely another of the many omissions and inaccuracies of history books,” I retorted. “ Actually, influenza was probably the real name for the disease which was called ‘ The English Sweat,’ a disease which reaped a huge and grim harvest in England from 1485 onward. Anne Boleyn nearly, died of it, and Henry VIII. fled from London to escape it.” Thursday, February 11. “ Don’t think I’m trying to he funny or anything,” said young Marcia Rogers this evening, “ but what’s a good cure for onion breath? I’m devoted to onion eating, but I’m getting to the stage where my best friends tell me.” “Jf there’s a cure for onion breath, I don’t know it,” I replied. “ But surely there’s a gargle or something? ” asked Marcia. “ Tho trouble is that the smell comes from the stomach and not the mouth,” I explained. “What a perfectly revolting thought,” she exclaimed. “ Nevertheless, a true one,” I replied. _ “ There is, on occasions, an operation performed in which feeding has subsequently to be done through a tube in the stomach instead of by the mouth. One such person who suffered this recently was an onion eater. After a feed of them his breath always told tho tale.” “Nevertheless,” I added, “don’t give up onion, or even garlic, eating. Rather reserve them for those days when you will not bo leaving the house. They have tho deserved reputation of being a health-giving vegetable. Friday, February 12. Speed! Speed! The modern mania is speed. We want cars that go faster, trains that beat all existing records, and aeroplanes that go round the world in five days. It ssems that our whole ambition is to get somewhere quicker than anyone dse ever got there before. What we intend to do when wo get there seems quite beside the point. This afternoon Gerald Harn wanted to reach the seaside quicker than he’d ever reached it before. Half an hour ago I sewed him up with many stitches and set two broken limbs. There was apparently no particular object in his hurry. Despite all the learned arguments ns to why we have road accidents, the fact remains that a great many of them would never have happened if those concerned had been content to travel