speaking of operations(说起手术)-第2章
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remembered； too； that he had impressed me at the time as being a person
of character and decision and scholarly attainments。
He wore whiskers。 Somehow in my mind whiskers are ever
associated with medical skill。 I presume this is a heritage of my youth；
though I believe others labor under the same impression。
As I look back it seems to me that in childhood's days all the doctors in
our town wore whiskers。
I recall one old doctor down there in Kentucky who was practically
lurking in ambush all the time。 All he needed was a few decoys out in
front of him and a pump gun to be a duck blind。 He carried his calomel
about with him in a fruit jar； and when there was cutting job he stropped
his scalpel on his bootleg。
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You see； in those primitive times germs had not been invented yet； and
so he did not have to take any steps to avoid them。 Now we know that
loose； luxuriant whiskers are unsanitary； because they make such fine
winter quarters for germs； so； though the doctors still wear whiskers； they
do not wear them wild and waving。 In the profession bosky whiskers are
taboo； they must be landscaped。 And since it is a recognized fact that
germs abhor orderliness and straight lines they now go elsewhere to reside；
and the doctor may still retain his traditional aspect and yet be practically
germproof。 Doctor X was trimmed in accordance with the ethics of the
newer school。 He had trellis whiskers。 So I went to see him at his
offices in a fashionable district； on an expensive side street。
Before reaching him I passed through the hands of a maid and a nurse；
each of whom spoke to me in a low； sorrowful tone of voice； which
seemed to indicate that there was very little hope。
I reached an inner room where Doctor X was。 He looked me over；
while I described for him as best I could what seemed to be the matter
with me； and asked me a number of intimate questions touching on the
lives； works； characters and peculiarities of my ancestors； after which he
made me stand up in front of him and take my coat off； and he punched
me hither and yon with his forefinger。 He also knocked repeatedly on my
breastbone with his knuckles； and each time； on doing this； would apply
his ear to my chest and listen intently for a spell； afterward shaking his
head in a disappointed way。 Apparently there was nobody at home。 For
quite a time he kept on knocking； but without getting any response。
He then took my temperature and fifteen dollars； and said it was an
interesting casenot unusual exactly； but interestingand that it called for
an operation。
From the way my heart and other organs jumped inside of me at that
statement I knew at once that； no matter what he may have thought； the
premises were not unoccupied。 Naturally I inquired how soon he meant
to operate。 Personally I trusted there was no hurry about it。 I was
perfectly willing to wait for several years； if necessary。 He smiled at my
ignorance。
〃I never operate；〃 he said； 〃operating is entirely out of my line。 I am a
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diagnostician。〃
He was； tooI give him full credit for that。 He was a good； keen；
close diagnostician。 How did he know I had only fifteen dollars on me？
You did not have to tell this man what you had； or how much。 He knew
without being told。
I asked whether he was acquainted with Doctor YY being a person
whom I had met casually at a club to which I belong。 Oh； yes； he said；
he knew Doctor Y。 Y was a clever man； X saidvery； very clever； but Y
specialized in the eyes； the ears； the nose and the throat。 I gathered from
what Doctor X said that any time Doctor Y ventured below the thorax he
was out of bounds and liable to be penalized； and that if by any chance he
strayed down as far as the lungs he would call for help and back out as
rapidly as possible。
This was news to me。 It would appear that these up…to…date
practitioners just go ahead and divide you up and partition you out among
themselves without saying anything to you about it。 Your torso belongs
to one man and your legs are the exclusive property of his brother
practitioner down on the next block； and so on。 You may belong to as
many as half a dozen specialists； most of whom； very possibly； are total
strangers to you； and yet never know a thing about it yourself。
It has rather the air of trespassnay； more than that； it bears some of
the aspects of unlawful entrybut I suppose it is legal。 Certainly； judging
by what I am able to learn； the system is being carried on generally。 So it
must be ethical。 Anything doctors do in a mass is ethical。 Almost
anything they do singly and on individual responsibility is unethical。
Being ethical among doctors is practically the same thing as being a
Democrat in Texas or a Presbyterian in Scotland。
〃Y will never do for you；〃 said Doctor X； when I had rallied somewhat
from the shock of these disclosures。 〃I would suggest that you go to
Doctor Z； at such…and…such an address。 You are exactly in Z's line。 I'll
let him know that you are coming and when； and I'll send him down my
diagnosis。〃
So that same afternoon； the appointment having been made by
telephone； I went； full of quavery emotions； to Doctor Z's place。 As soon
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as I was inside his outer hallway； I realized that I was nearing the presence
of one highly distinguished in his profession。
A pussy…footed male attendant； in a livery that made him look like a
cross between a headwaiter and an undertaker's assistant； escorted me
through an anteroom into a reception…room； where a considerable number
of well…dressed men and women were sitting about in strained attitudes；
pretending to read magazines while they waited their turns； but in reality
furtively watching one another。
I sat down in a convenient chair； adhering fast to my hat and my
umbrella。 They were the only friends I had there and I was determined
not to lose them without a struggle。 On the wall were many colored
charts showing various portions of the human anatomy and what ailed
them。 Directly in front of me was a very thrilling illustration； evidently
copied from an oil painting； of a liver in a bad state of repair。 I said to
myself that if I had a liver like that one I should keep it hidden from the
public eyeI would never permit it to sit for it's portrait。 Still； there is no
accounting for tastes。 I know a man who got his spleen back from the
doctors and now keeps it in a bottle of alcohol on the what…not in the
parlor； as one of his most treasured possessions； and som
