A Mind That Found Itself | Page 7

Clifford Whittingham Beers
house,
and it is probable that these three points of contact, dividing the force of the shock,
prevented my back from being broken. As it was, it narrowly escaped a fracture and, for
several weeks afterward, it felt as if powdered glass had been substituted for cartilage
between the vertebrae.
I did not lose consciousness even for a second, and the demoniacal dread, which had
possessed me from June, 1894, until this fall to earth just six years later, was dispelled the
instant I struck the ground. At no time since have I experienced one of my imaginary
attacks; nor has my mind even for a moment entertained such an idea. The little demon
which had tortured me relentlessly for so many years evidently lacked the stamina which
I must have had to survive the shock of my suddenly arrested flight through space. That
the very delusion which drove me to a death-loving desperation should so suddenly
vanish would seem to indicate that many a suicide might be averted if the person
contemplating it could find the proper assistance when such a crisis impends.

III
It was squarely in front of the dining-room window that I fell, and those at dinner were,
of course, startled. It took them a second or two to realize what had happened. Then my
younger brother rushed out, and with others carried me into the house. Naturally that
dinner was permanently interrupted. A mattress was placed on the floor of the dining
room and I on that, suffering intensely. I said little, but what I said was significant. "I
thought I had epilepsy!" was my first remark; and several times I said, "I wish it was
over!" For I believed that my death was only a question of hours. To the doctors, who
soon arrived, I said, "My back is broken!"--raising myself slightly, however, as I said so.
An ambulance was summoned and I was placed in it. Because of the nature of my
injuries it had to proceed slowly. The trip of a mile and a half seemed interminable, but
finally I arrived at Grace Hospital and was placed in a room which soon became a
chamber of torture. It was on the second floor; and the first object to engage my attention
and stir my imagination was a man who appeared outside my window and placed in
position several heavy iron bars. These were, it seems, thought necessary for my

protection, but at that time no such idea occurred to me. My mind was in a delusional
state, ready and eager to seize upon any external stimulus as a pretext for its wild
inventions, and that barred window started a terrible train of delusions which persisted for
seven hundred and ninety-eight days. During that period my mind imprisoned both mind
and body in a dungeon than which none was ever more secure.
Knowing that those who attempt suicide are usually placed under arrest, I believed
myself under legal restraint. I imagined that at any moment I might be taken to court to
face some charge lodged against me by the local police. Every act of those about me
seemed to be a part of what, in police parlance, is commonly called the "Third Degree."
The hot poultices placed upon my feet and ankles threw me into a profuse perspiration,
and my very active association of mad ideas convinced me that I was being
"sweated"--another police term which I had often seen in the newspapers. I inferred that
this third-degree sweating process was being inflicted in order to extort some kind of a
confession, though what my captors wished me to confess I could not for my life imagine.
As I was really in a state of delirium, with high fever, I had an insatiable thirst. The only
liquids given me were hot saline solutions. Though there was good reason for
administering these, I believed they were designed for no other purpose than to increase
my sufferings, as part of the same inquisitorial process. But had a confession been due, I
could hardly have made it, for that part of my brain which controls the power of speech
was seriously affected, and was soon to be further disabled by my ungovernable thoughts.
Only an occasional word did I utter.
Certain hallucinations of hearing, or "false voices," added to my torture. Within my range
of hearing, but beyond the reach of my understanding, there was a hellish vocal hum.
Now and then I would recognize the subdued voice of a friend; now and then I would
hear the voices of some I believed were not friends. All these referred to me and uttered
what I could not clearly distinguish, but knew must be imprecations. Ghostly rappings on
the walls and ceiling of my room punctuated
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