Speaking of Operations | Page 5

a fruit jar, and when there was cutting job he
stropped his scalpel on his bootleg.
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 case--not unusual exactly, but interesting--and 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
diagnostician."
He was, too--I 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 Y--Y 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 said--very, 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 trespass--nay, more than that, it bears some of the
aspects of unlawful entry--but 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