II. EXERCISE…

II. EXERCISE

In recent years a great change has come over the popular mind regarding exercise, especially in the open air. It is well to emphasize at the very beginning the subject of too much exercise, because there is no doubt in the minds of many who study the question, that many Americans, and indeed people of the northern nations generally, take a certain amount of voluntary {199} exercise that is not good for them, though they take it at the cost of considerable effort and sacrifice of time and are firmly persuaded that it is of great benefit.

Sufficient Exercise.--There is a much larger number of persons who do not take sufficient exercise. The amount to be taken is eminently an individual matter. Neurotic patients exaggerate everything in either direction, so that perhaps the state of affairs that exists is not so surprising as it might otherwise seem. Instead of the uncertainty that prompts now to too much exercise, and again to too little, for health's sake there must, as far as possible, be a definite settlement of the needs.

National Customs.--There is a curious difference in the attitude of mind of the various nations towards exercise. Most of the southern nations of Europe do not as a rule take any violent exercise. As is well known, however, they are not for this reason any less healthy than their northern contemporaries, though perhaps they are less strong and muscular. But muscularity and health are not convertible terms, though many people seem to think they are. An excess of any tissue is not good. Our economy should be taxed to maintain only what is useful to it. Nature evidently intended, in cold climates at least, that men should maintain a certain blanket of fat to help them retain their natural heat, but any excess of fat lessens their resistive vitality by lowering oxidation processes. Fat in cold climates can be used to advantage as a retainer of heat. In the warmer climate it would be a decided disadvantage. Muscular tissue is a manufacturer of heat and this is a decided advantage in the colder climates, but in the temperate zone, where the summers are very warm, muscle in over-abundance, unless its energy is consumed by actual physical exercise, may be quite as much of a burden as fat. Muscular people do not stand heat well. They demand exercise to keep muscle energy from being converted into heat, and they require frequent cold baths, and other forms of heat dissipation, in order to be reasonably comfortable.

Exercise in Early Years.--The question of the amount of exercise that is to be taken must be decided at an early age for individuals. Most of the young people of the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon races are tempted by traditions and by social usage to develop considerable muscle during their growing years. In this respect, the difference between the German and the English schoolboy is very striking. The English schoolboy is likely to be as "hard as nails," as the expression is, as a consequence of violent exercise in his various sports, taken often to the uttermost limit of fatigue. The German schoolboy has his walk to and from school, and some other simple methodical exercises, with some mild amusements that make little demand on muscle, but of games in the open he has very few, and of the violent sports he has none at all. A comparison of the health of the two nations will not show that the English boy, who receives a public school and a university education, with all their temptations to exercise, enjoys any better health, and, above all, reaches an average longer life than the German youth, who has gone through a similar educational career in his own country, but without the athletic training that the English schoolboy has had.

As a consequence of the absence of athletics and its diverting interest, the German is apt to have learned more than his English colleague, but a {200} comparison of mortality and morbidity tables would show that his resistive vitality, his power to overcome disease and recover from accident is not lower than that of his colleague from across the North Sea. The German is less strong muscularly, and in a contest of physical effort would as a rule come out second best, but then we have gotten beyond the period when it is important for a man to be able to defend himself by physical force, except in emergencies that may never come. Surely the English time and effort devoted to athletics is not justified by this.

Preparation for a Sedentary Life.--Certainly if a young man is going to live a sedentary life in his after years, it does not seem advisable for him deliberately to devote much time to muscular exercise during his growing years. This only provides him with a set of muscles for which he has no use. Ordinarily it is assumed that muscles are organs for the single purpose of evolving energy. This is not true, since they are important organs for the disposition of certain food materials and for the manufacture of heat for the body. Nature in her economy probably never makes an organ for one function alone, but usually arranges so that each set of organs accomplishes two or three functions, thus saving space and utilizing nutrition to the full. The man with a well-developed muscular system, which he is not using, will have to feed it, and besides will have constantly to exert a controlling power over the heat that it manufactures whenever it is not dissipated by actual exercise. For these reasons he will be constantly nagged by it into taking more exercise than his occupation in life demands, and if he does not do this, his developed musculature is likely to deteriorate so as to be a serious impediment, or to degenerate by fatty metamorphosis into a lower order of tissue that is a clog and not a help to life.

The Germans are more sensible. As students, they live quite sedentary lives, develop their muscles just enough to keep them in reasonably good health, and then, when it comes to living an indoor life, as will be almost inevitable in their chosen professions or occupations, they do not meet with the difficulties that confront the Anglo-Saxon with his burdensome, over-developed muscular system. German professors, as a class, do not find themselves under the necessity of taking systematic daily exercise. They are quite content and quite healthy with an hour or two of sitting in the open air, and a quiet walk from the home to the university or the school. With the ideas that some people have with regard to the value of exercise for health, it might be expected that the German professors would be less healthy than their Anglo-Saxon colleagues. This is notoriously untrue, for the Germans live longer lives on the average, and most of them accomplish much more, and above all are much more content in the accomplishment, than their physically strenuous Anglo-Saxon colleagues. They are not oppressed by the demands of a muscular system that insists on having its functions exercised, since it has been called into being in the formative period. These German professors live to a magnificent old age, requiring very little sleep and often doing a really enormous amount of work. The man with a developed muscular system generally requires prolonged sleep, particularly after exercise, but even without it very seldom is it possible for him to do with less than seven hours, while the Germans often are content and healthy with five hours, or less.

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Our muscular system is our principal heat-making apparatus. It is easy to understand. If we have larger heat-making organs than are necessary for the maintenance of the temperature of the body, and if we have no mode of dissipating our heat by muscular energy, as through exercise, then there will be a constant tendency for our temperature to rise, which must be overcome, at considerable expense of energy, by the heat-regulating mechanism of the body. This heat-regulating mechanism is extremely delicate, yet does not seem to be easily disturbed. With the external temperature at 120 deg. F. or--10 deg., human temperature is constant. With a heating apparatus entirely too large for its purpose, it is no wonder that irritability of the nervous system ensues because of the constant over-exercise of a function called for from it. It is this state of affairs which seems to me to account for the marked tendency to nervous unrest, and to the presence of many heart and digestive symptoms that often characterize athletes who develop a magnificent muscular system when they are young, and later have no use for it. They must learn the lesson and keep up the practice of using their muscles sufficiently to dissipate surplus heat, so as to prevent this energy from being used up in various ways within the body, with a resulting disturbance of many delicate nervous mechanisms.

Useless Muscles.--Whatever a human being has to carry round as useless can only be expressed by the telling Roman word for the baggage of an army, impedimenta. Prof. James, in his "Principles of Psychology," sums up the law very well:

The great thing in all education is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our enemy. It is to fund and capitalize our acquisitions and live at ease upon the interest of the fund. For this we must make automatic and habitual as early as possible as many useful actions as can be and guard against the growing into ways that may be disadvantageous to us as we should guard against the plague.

An over-developed muscular system, with its tendency to manufacture heat and its craving to be used, and the consciousness it is so apt to produce of ability to stand various dangerous efforts, is a disadvantage rather than an advantage.

Useless Fat.--This reminds us very much of the attitude with regard to children in the acquisition of fat. Chubby babies with rolls of fat all over them and deep creases near their joints are considered to be "perfectly lovely." Mothers are proud to exhibit them. They are supposed to be typical examples of abounding good health. Neighborly mothers come in to coo over them and, in general, the main aim of existence for children in their early years would seem to be to make them as fat as possible. Such children, as is brought out in the discussion of the subject in the chapter on obesity, are not healthy in the true sense of the word, are well known to be of lower resistive vitality than thinner infants, and easily succumb to diseases.

Resistive Vitality.--One reason for the early deaths of many athletes is the fact that, confident of their strength, they allow themselves to become so overwhelmed by an infection, before they confess that they are sick and take to bed, that often the cure of their affection is hopeless. Ordinarily neither pneumonia nor typhoid are likely to be fatal diseases for men between twenty and fifty. If a man's heart and kidneys are in good condition during this {202} period, an attack of either of these diseases, while a serious incident, is likely to be only a passing loss of time. Rather frequently, however, strong and healthy men without any organic defect that may be considered responsible for the fatal termination, succumb to these diseases. The reason for the fatality is that they are not willing to admit that they are ill enough to be in bed, they have a large reserve force of strength on which they call and which enables them, for a good while, to resist the weakening influence of disease. Doctors know and dread these cases. A young man in the flower of youth, with magnificent muscular development, comes into the office breathing very rapidly and with a laboring pulse. Almost exhausted, he sinks into a chair, confesses that he is nearly "all in," and wonders what is the matter. At times the physician will find practically a whole lung solidified by pneumonia, and at times both lungs are seriously affected. The wonder is how the young man succeeded in holding out so long. Sometimes the doctor is summoned to see him because he has fainted in his home, or in his office, and his friends are alarmed. These cases are almost invariably fatal. Any one who continues to be up and around until the third or fourth day of pneumonia will have so exhausted his vitality, no matter how great that may be, that he will have no reserve force for the life-struggle that must come before the crisis is reached.

Nearly the same thing is true for typhoid fever in the same class of persons. A young athlete, who considers it babyish to confess to illness, complains of feeling out of sorts but nothing more, until some morning he is literally unable to leave his bed, or has a fainting fit after going up-stairs. He is found by the physician with a temperature of 104 deg., or near it, and with evident signs of being in the middle of the second week of typhoid fever. The termination of such a case is generally fatal.

The ordinary man knows his limitations better; he recognizes the fact that he may be ill, and gives in quietly and rests, so that nature may employ all her energies in conquering the infection. Most of the long-lived people of history have been rather delicate and have learned young the precious lesson of caring for themselves. This care has not been exaggerated, but it has consisted in avoiding danger, in resting when tired, in not overdoing things, and above all in yielding to the symptoms of disease before these become serious.

Regulation of Exercise.--Each man must be a law unto himself as to the amount of exercise that is necessary for him. He must take enough to use up the energy supplied by the food he eats, just as, on the other hand, he must eat enough food to make up for whatever waste there is in his body. There are many men who eat over-heartily and then have to take exercise to use up this material or else suffer for it. This is one of the compensations that the hearty eater must pay: he overfeeds and becomes obese, or, if he succeeds in keeping down his weight to the normal, it is only by the expenditure of time in securing such muscular action as will use up surplus energy. Many men find it difficult to control their appetites, and prefer to take exercise rather than to deny the appetite which they created during their days of indulgence in athletics. It is for such men to decide just what seems preferable. If the fuel is supplied to the heat engine, which all human beings are, it must be used for the production of energy or else it will exert {203} itself in accumulating certain waste in the tissues, just as over-abundant fuel serves merely to clog up the fire-box of an engine without doing any work.

Air and Exercise.--It is easy to deceive one's self in the matter of exercise. With regard to air such a mistake is almost impossible. As a rule, it is air rather than exercise that people need when they have the restlessness and nervousness which comes from over-abundant nutrition. Fresh, pure air enables the individual to burn up nutritive material to the best advantage by the encouragement of oxidation. It is a surprise to those who are not accustomed to it, to see how tuberculosis patients who come to sanatoria with very little appetite, soon acquire an appetite and are able to consume large quantities of food, to sleep well and become restful--all as the result of living constantly in the open air during the day, and also having an abundance of fresh air at night. This is particularly true if the air in which they live is rather cold, and, above all, if it has a large difference of temperature every day, so that there is an upward and downward swing of the thermometer of from thirty to forty degrees. This varying temperature seems to use up nutritive material, and keeps all the natural processes going.

Gymnastics.--The very opposite to this plan of open air life is that followed by those who take gymnastic exercises for health's sake, with the idea that the use of certain muscles is necessary to keep the bodily economy in equilibrium. Such gymnastics are usually undertaken indoors, sometimes in stuffy quarters, and the movements are commonly repeated with such continued routine that absolutely all interest is lost. That there are many who advocate this form of exercise, it has nearly always seemed to commonsense physicians an entirely wrong solution of the important question of the encouragement of oxidation. It is like running an engine, not for the purpose of having it do something, but simply in order to have it oil itself, and consume the fuel that has been put into its boiler and that must be used up because more will be put in to-morrow. It would be much better, either to limit the amount of fuel or to give the muscular exercise some useful purpose, above all connect it with some interest that furnishes diversion of mind at the same time that the muscles are used. This last is the most important consideration, for, after a time, gymnastics pall in spite of artificial incentive.

Dr. Saleeby, in "Health, Strength and Happiness," has expressed very forcibly what has come to be the feeling of many physicians with regard to gymnastics, especially indoor gymnastics:

The natural spontaneous exercise having been forbidden, and the bad consequences of no exercise having become conspicuous, there has been adopted a system of factitious exercise--gymnastics. That this is better than nothing, we admit; but that it is an adequate substitute for play we deny. . . . The common assumption that, so long as the amount of bodily action is the same, it matters not whether it be pleasurable or otherwise, is a grave mistake. . . . The truth is that happiness is the most powerful of tonics. . . Hence the intrinsic superiority of play to gymnastics. The extreme interest felt by children in their games and the riotous glee with which they carry on their rougher frolics, are of as much importance as the accompanying exertion. And as not supplying these mental stimuli, gymnastics must be radically defective.

Granting, then, as we do, that formal exercises of the limbs are better than nothing--granting further that they may be used with advantage as supplementary aids, we yet contend that they can never serve in place of the exercises prompted by nature. For girls, as well as boys, the sportive activities to which the instincts {204} impel, are essential to bodily welfare. Whoever forbids them, forbids the divinely appointed means to physical development.

Play and Exercise.--There has been a distinct tendency in modern times to think that gymnastic exercise can be a substitute for play for growing young folks. When certain of the instruments and methods of the modern systems of gymnastics which have been introduced into schools, and are supposed to be so wonderfully beneficial, are put to the test of the psychology of exercise, the conclusions are likely to be very different from the theories under which they were introduced. Dr. Saleeby has expressed these differences rather strikingly:

Anyone who will consider for a moment the natural constitution of man and the principles of natural education, must agree that the deplorable thing called a dumb-bell offers an exquisite parody of what exercise should really be. The cat, as she exercises her kittens along the lines of their natural proclivities and needs, never telling them that this is exercise for the sake of exercise, and certainly prepared, if she could, to turn up her nose at any artificial implement we might offer her--should be our model in this respect. It may be imagined that some unfortunate girl, brought up on early Victorian lines, having never been permitted to wear comfortable garments, or to stretch her arms, would welcome and enjoy the dumb-bells when first introduced to them. But any one who has had a natural childhood and who has been taught to play, and who has taken his or her exercise naturally, or incidentally in the course of pursuing some mental interest--any such person may be excused for saying that a pair of dumb-bells should be deposited in our museums as indications of what was understood by exercise even as late as the earlier years of the twentieth century. All exercise for the sake of exercise is a mistake--or, at any rate, a second best. You may do your mind--and body, too--more harm by sheer boredom than you may gain good from the exercise you go through. The dumb-bell symbolizes the fact that the most elementary and obvious truths of psychology are still unrecognized, though the play and games of every natural child--if you object to be instructed by kittens--should be perfectly sufficient to teach us what indeed nature taught us ages ago, if only we would listen to her.

Indoor Sport.--Indoor sport is another thing. In wintry weather it is impossible to play outside conveniently, and indoor games have their place. Unfortunately they are usually associated with dust, and when played before crowds of spectators, the participants suffer also from the disadvantage of rebreathed air containing, too, the emanations of those who are looking on. It must not be forgotten that these two factors are the most prominent predisposing causes of tuberculosis. Those who have any tendency to tuberculosis, by which is meant specifically all those who are associating with tuberculosis patients, whether those patients are related to them or not, or who are more than 20 per cent. under the weight that they should have for their height, should not be allowed to take part in indoor sports where these drawbacks are sure to be encountered.

Sport, because of the diversion of mind involved, is an ideal form of exercise. An exercise that becomes a mere routine and that can be eventually gone through with so mechanically as to leave abundant room for thoughts of business or study or worries of other kinds, loses sight of one of the principal purposes of exercise as nature demands it.

Horseback Biding.--It is because of the complete diversion of mind that is necessarily involved in it, that horseback riding makes such a magnificent exercise for the busy man. The old expression "the outside of a horse is the {205} best thing for the inside of a man" is founded even more on the mental influence of horseback riding than its physical quality. The same amount of exercise in the open air, taken otherwise, often does not accomplish so much good, because a man's thoughts may continue to run on his business or be occupied with his worries, or he may not be able to divert his thoughts from himself and his digestion or his ills. A horseback rider must pay attention to the other animal, rather than himself, and that represents the complete diversion of mind so necessary for the health of most people. Just as soon as man rides an old favorite animal on whose back he can throw down the reins, allowing it to saunter on as it will, while he occupies himself with other things, then horseback riding loses its efficacy and falls back into the class of bicycle riding or carriage riding or walking in the open air unless there is diversion of mind in the scenes, or the necessity for care at street crossings, to banish preoccupation of mind. Unless business troubles and worries are necessarily excluded by its conditions, or are deliberately eliminated from the mind during the course of any exercise, it may even become a renewed source of worrisome thoughts, rather than a renewal of energy, mental and physical.

It is doubtful whether horseback riding should ever be recommended for those who have not been accustomed to it from their youth. To ask a man past forty to learn to ride horseback for the sake of exercise is nearly always a mistake. It becomes a trial rather than a recreation, and may thus do harm rather than good. On the other hand, horseback riding is one of the things that may be, and indeed often is, much abused. The old English fox-hunting squire would never have lived out his life even as long as he did, consuming the amount of proteid material that was his custom, and drinking his three or more quarts of port at dinner every day, but that the excessive drain upon his system by long days of hard riding in the hunting field made calls upon his nutrition which kept even this amount of food and stimulant from doing immediate harm. Just as soon, however, as long spells of severe exercise become excuses for the consumption of big dinners, and exercise is used as a factor to enable one to overeat with more comfort than would otherwise be the case, a vicious circle is formed, and one serious abuse is counterbalanced by another. What many well-to-do people of leisure need is not so much more exercise as less eating.

Walking.--Perhaps the best and most readily available form of exercise for most people is walking. It has one disadvantage. As soon as the walk becomes too much of a routine, and the ground gone over has lost its interest, or is even of such a nature as to permit or, indeed, tempt introspection and occupation with other things, rather than with the surroundings, then walking loses most of its efficacy as a form of exercise. Walking in the country, for instance, becomes monotonous, though at first it is a great source of pleasure. Walking in a large city, however, has little of this objection and as large city life has grown more and more strenuous in recent years, the good effect of walking to and from the office or walking in the busy parts of the city has been increased. Between the trolley and the automobile, and the hustling commercial traffic of the streets, it is impossible for a man to walk through the busier portions of any large American city without keeping his wits thoroughly intent on what he is doing, nor without requiring all of his {206} attention for his transportation. An abstracted man will in the course of a half hour have so many narrow escapes from being run down in a busy quarter that he will either eschew walking in that particular neighborhood, or give up his habits of mental abstraction, or else he will come to himself some day in a hospital.

Besides, the passing show in city life is itself of surpassing interest. It is not things but men that interest us most. There are so many phases of human life to be seen on busy city streets, so many things happen in the course of even a short walk to bring out prominently traits of human nature that, if a man is at all sympathetic, he finds much to occupy his attention, to distract him from his own worries and take him away from his business cares. The long walk to and from the office may thus become an efficacious source of thoughts that are different and of profound pleasure. All depends on the man and his mood. Men who try it whole-heartedly soon find a renewed interest in life. An hour of daily walking in the open air with the distractions of city life all around, provided the walking is done briskly and faithfully, is of infinitely more hygienic value than an hour of gymnasium work. There is only one thing that hampers this form of exercise--there are so many excuses to tempt one not to keep it up. If one gets to a gymnasium there is an instructor or director who keeps tabs on one's hours and so helps a weak human will, and excuses are easier made to one's self than to others.

Massage as Exercise.--This curious tendency of men to take their exercise far more regularly, provided some other is concerned in their taking it so that it cannot be neglected without explanation, is illustrated in many of the experiences of the doctor in modern life. A number of forms of massage have come into vogue as wonderful cure-alls. It is comparatively easy for some men, and above all for many women, to take their exercise by means of massage rather than in some more vigorous way that requires their own initiative. A man who is working hard, and who feels the need of exercise, will not take the easy natural way of getting up half an hour earlier, having his breakfast half an hour sooner and then walking down to his office four or five miles, but he hears of someone who gives vigorous massage and he engages him to come every morning and exercise him for half an hour or an hour. In order to do so, he has to get up an hour earlier, but the fact that he has the engagement with someone else, rather than with himself, makes it more difficult for him to make excuses, and so morning after morning, in spite of the fact that he may have been up late the night before, perhaps to a big dinner, he gets up to be given his exercise. If he is a heavy eater he will, of course, at the end of a week or ten days feel ever so much better for he has been using up material that was clogging his circulation and irritating his nervous system.

At the end of a month he will probably feel so much better that he will conclude that he has found the root of all evil in life, or of all disease, in a failure of circulation that can be removed by means of massage, manipulation and passive movements. When he gets well enough to give it up, he drops straight back into his old troubles, because what he needs is a radical change of life that will adapt his eating to the amount of exercise that he takes, and his exercise to the amount that he eats. If this fails to come, he has had only a temporary benefit that has probably tempted him rather to increase {207} the amount that he eats normally than otherwise and will probably do him harm in the end. This massage brings about a distinct reduction in the weight of women, and as most of them are very desirous of this, the remedy becomes even more precious to them than to men. Here, too, however, it is only a temporary expedient. They are tempted to eat more than before, or at least not to reduce their diet, and the good that is accomplished is only for the moment, while no habits, either of restraint of eating, or of more exercise in the open air which so many of them need, have been formed.

Passive Movements.--The success of osteopathy has been largely founded on this curious peculiarity of human nature. People are not satisfied to regulate their eating and exercise in a sensible way. They prefer to submit to various methods of exercise, manipulations and passive movements which make up for the muscular exertion that should help the circulation within the body, but do not accomplish the purpose nearly so well as the voluntary exercise of muscles. It requires little exercise of will to submit to this treatment, while for many people it requires considerable exertion of will power to exercise their muscles for themselves. The old particularly, who are likely to suffer from achy conditions around joints, always worse on rainy days, which would be expelled by enough exercise to stimulate the circulation in these structures, find the new remedial measures of vicarious exercise of great service to them and consequently osteopathy has gained many votaries. Old members of many a state legislature who have been accustomed to ride for so long that exercise is almost an unknown quantity in their lives, are treated by the osteopath and lose so many vague pains and aches and discomforts of various kinds that it has not been difficult to persuade them that it is a great new discovery in medicine, and so in many of the states the osteopaths have secured legal recognition.

Summary.--Exercise, as exercise, often does harm rather than good. Thin people seldom need exercise, stout people seldom take enough of it. No one should be encouraged to exercise merely that he may be able to use up material that he has eaten, when it is evident that he is eating more than is required for his ordinary occupation. The question can never be settled without taking into consideration all these individual peculiarities of each case. Properly used, exercise is one of the most important therapeutic aids. But it is liable to as many abuses as are drugs, and the patient's attitude of mind toward any particular exercise is always an extremely important factor. If the exercise produces fatigue and disgust, then it will do no good, in spite of all that is hoped from it. If it creates true diversion of mind, it will surely be precious, even though it may, for other reasons, seem unsuitable.

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III. POSITION

There are many changes of position that relieve pain, lessen discomfort, aid in excretion, and in the evacuation of material from the body, yet it is often found that very little advantage is taken of this natural method of therapeutic aid. Traditions and habit often rule to such an extent that {208} certain quite unfavorable positions are assumed, modifications of which frequently bring about distinct amelioration of symptoms. Very often patients learn this alone. There are many mechanical principles that can be applied in the treatment of pathological conditions which patients will not use unless definite suggestions are made. Often the physician has to suggest that they should try first one position and then another, in order to determine whether a certain amount of relief may not be afforded by position alterations, and perhaps function encouraged, or at least certain inhibiting factors modified for the better.

Favoring Return Circulation.--For people who have to stand much during the day, position in their resting hours is often extremely important. The caricature of the old-time American exhibited him with his feet on the mantlepiece, or somewhere as high as his head. For thin individuals there is no doubt that the placing the feet about as high as the head often makes a very comfortable position for a time. To those who have been standing much it is particularly restful. This may be easily accomplished lying down, though it must not be forgotten that the tendency to place the feet on a neighboring chair, or over the arm of the chair, so often seen in young folks, is in response to a physiological stimulus that brings relief to the heart by encouraging by means of gravity the return circulation in the veins from dependent portions of the body distant from the heart. For people who have not much exercise, and who have to stand all day, a brisk walk or leg exercises that thoroughly empty their muscles of blood by bringing about active contraction of them is important as a factor in their hours of rest. It makes all the difference in the world between the feeling of intense tiredness due to the sluggish circulation, and a return of vigor in the muscles.

Varicose Veins.--For patients suffering from varicose veins, position is particularly important. When they have to stand much, their limbs get painfully tired. The ache in the sense of fatigue is reflected over the body with the resultant depression. Active exercise, for a time, is not so good for them, and yet it is helpful. The ideal relief from their achy condition is afforded by gentle massage upwards of the limbs. That empties the dilated veins of blood and restores vigor to the circulation. It must not be forgotten, that when the circulation in the lower limbs is rendered sluggish by varicosity, the heart is also affected because it is so much more difficult to secure the return of blood through the tortuous dilated veins. This accounts for the intense general sense of fatigue that many of these patients have. Varicosities have a definite tendency to develop in those who are occupied in standing occupations, waiters, footmen, clerks, and the like, and often they have to continue at these occupations in spite of the varicose condition. It is particularly important for them to have an hour of lying down during the middle of the day so as to break their day's work in two. With a little insistence it can be secured in a great many cases and will afford more relief to the patient than anything else that can be done, even the wearing of rubber stockings, bandages and the like. I have known waiters massage each other at the time they had their period of rest with excellent results.

For the rupture of a varicose vein, position may be one of the most important auxiliaries to prevent serious hemorrhage. I remember as an ambulance surgeon once being called to see a case in which a great deal of blood {209} had been lost because efforts had been used to stop the bleeding by the application of a tourniquet. This shut off the superficial arteries, but not the deep ones and effectually prevented the return of any venous blood into the trunk, while all the time the ruptured varicose veins continued to bleed profusely. Local applications of styptics failed, of course, because the varicose vein itself had nearly the diameter of the little finger. Pressure over the wound did good for the time, but the bleeding was renewed whenever it was let up, and the two physicians in charge, alarmed at the loss of blood, were beginning to lose their heads. The ambulance was summoned to take the patient to the hospital and when it was suggested that if the tourniquet were removed and her foot was elevated the bleeding would probably stop without more ado, the suggestion seemed too simple to be true, but the event showed that that was all that was necessary.

Relief for Flat Foot.--For the achy discomfort of flat-foot, which is usually felt much more in the calf and the knee than in the ankle, some vigorous exercise for the foot, and especially for the calf muscles, at times during the day is likely to give great relief. Ten minutes of vigorous movement of the calf muscles followed by half an hour lying down will save most of them from the intense tiredness that is very discouraging in the late afternoon in many of the standing occupations. This relief removes from patients' minds the common idea that there must be something serious the matter with them. A good many of those who are cured of rheumatism by osteopathy, and of kidney trouble by the advertising specialists, and of various nervous diseases by new thought and irregular mental healing, are only sufferers from conditions such as can be relieved in this way. When flat-footed people sit down they should be advised to cross their feet (not their legs), because this emphasizes the arch of the foot somewhat and helps to strengthen and preserve it.

Abdominal Relaxation.--Many of the discomforts within the abdomen of which patients complain, especially whenever their attention is concentrated on them, can be benefited by suggestions as to position. Many a man who feels very uncomfortable after a hearty meal when sitting curled up beneath a lamp to read the evening paper, does not notice it at all when he stretches out on an easy Morris chair and with head back talks to friends. Many a man who thinks that his discomfort after dinner must mean serious dyspepsia, finds that a game of billiards after dinner will often dissipate almost completely his ill-feeling, unless, of course, it is due to overeating. After meals generally, positions that crowd the abdominal organs should be avoided. It must not be forgotten either that when lying down a full stomach may very well interfere with the heart action and produce marked palpitation. There are many men who cannot lie down within two hours of having eaten a hearty meal without decided heart irregularity, though while they are sitting up or standing quietly, or even moving, there will be no sign of this. Many of the vague discomforts within the abdomen, those due to movable kidney, or even chronic conditions in the biliary or urinary tracts, are only manifest when there is crowding of the organs within the abdomen.

How much the mechanical element may mean in kidney and biliary conditions is well illustrated by the relief often afforded by changes of position when calculi in these organs are giving trouble. Both renal and biliary calculi, which perhaps have been lying quite harmlessly in their positions {210} for years, are especially likely to become productive of discomfort by a jolting ride, or the jar of a fall, or by the influence of changes of position produced by gymnastic efforts of an acrobatic kind, or by a loop-the-loop experience, or something of the kind. In spite of this, only rarely does the physician try to use changes of position for their relief. I have seen a man suffering from excruciating biliary colic get almost immediate relief when put standing on his head alongside of a lounge. He looked upon it as magic. It was only that the stone, in the midst of the relaxation of all abdominal muscles produced by the unusual position, was able to drop back into the gall bladder, where it had been for months perhaps years before without giving any trouble. Similar relief is often afforded from the pain of kidney stones before they become definitely engaged in the ureter.

Raising the Head.--Patients suffering from respiratory difficulties usually learn to accommodate themselves to such changes of position as will afford them the greatest relief. The difficulty of breathing leads to such tossing about that the position easiest for the patient is almost inevitably found. When respiratory difficulties first declare themselves patients may not realize how much relief will be afforded by raising the head, or by the assumption of a sitting position. Often such patients prefer to sit in a chair. It should be borne in mind that, wherever this is compulsory, dispositions can be made so that the chair shall be as comfortable as possible, that its seat edge shall not press upon the underportion of the legs so as to impede blood circulation, nor press upon nerves, and that comfortable arrangements shall be made for the arms. When the patient's head has to be raised in the bed, it is much better to raise the mattress by placing some large properly-shaped object underneath it, so as to secure a gradual slant rather than have the patient's head and upper portion of the thorax bent by pillows. In default of something better, a chair placed so that the mattress lies along its back will be a handy aid. This is a matter of nursing rather than strictly of medical attendance, but unless the physician pays attention to it, it will be neglected, or at least in many cases not used to the best advantage.

Whenever there is difficulty of expectoration, especially when expectoration is abundant as in certain of the chronic bronchitises, and above all in dilatation of the bronchi, the advantage of position should be taken to aid in the expectoration. Patients who have to cough up large amounts in dilatation of the bronchi and who have long severe fits of coughing in the early morning, will often obtain a great measure of relief by leaning out of bed with one hand on the floor, doing their coughing in that position. Gravity helps in the emptying of the pockets of the bronchi and in five minutes they succeed in getting up satisfactorily as much material as would come up, only after severe convulsive efforts for an hour, when gravity was in opposition to their efforts. Children in whooping cough naturally bend over in order to cough. They will cough easiest if placed on a bed with a pillow beneath their chest so as to lift the face from the mattress, or in the case of older children, with the head projecting beyond the edge of the bed. This is only a trifle, but it will often save children severe convulsive efforts. Tuberculous patients who have to cough much, should be encouraged to find for themselves by trial whether certain positions, leaning out of bed, may not be of great service to them. There is often in advanced cases an accumulation of material during {211} the night that must be expectorated, and the patients are severely shaken up by their efforts to bring it up. I have known cases where a considerable measure of relief was afforded by leaning out of bed with the elbow on a pillow, a chair or foot-stool somewhat lower than the level of the bed. The mechanical help of gravity is particularly important where cavities exist and a considerable amount of material has to be emptied out of them.

In modern surgical times one does not often see the emptying of a purulent pleurisy through the bronchi, but I once had an opportunity to see the termination of one of these cases in a very favorable way. When I saw her the patient had already coughed up a cup full of purulent fluid and, altogether, about a quart of pus was thus evacuated. The patient had been so ill that the effort was considerable, but the evacuation was greatly helped by having her lean out of bed whenever material was to be expectorated. The patient is still alive and in good health--fifteen years after the event.

Heart Cases.--Position is also often of very great importance for the relief of the symptoms of patients suffering from heart affections. For organic heart affections, rest in bed is often advised. It must not be forgotten that this does not necessarily mean in a recumbent position. Whenever there is difficulty of breathing in connection with an affection of the heart, the recumbent position is extremely uncomfortable. This is nature's safeguard against the accumulation of fluid in the dependent parts of the lungs at the terminal capillaries of the pulmonary circulation. Most of the natural demands have a definite reason and are prophylactic rather than merely a symptom of aimless discomfort. Patients with heart disease often want to sit up in a chair. Their wish should, as a rule, be yielded to. There is no need of their sitting in a narrow uncomfortable armchair, nor of being incommoded by the position they have to assume. The end of a large lounge, especially one that curves over towards the floor on which pillows can be piled so as to make the patient comfortable, and yet afford many changes of position, is the best.

In general, the arrangements should be such that changes of position can be secured without much difficulty. These prevent hypostatic pneumonia and guard the patient against serious accumulations in the lung tissue because of sluggish circulation. Changes of position can be used as valuable suggestions. Often the main portion of the patient's symptoms consists of the intense fatigue due to one position. This can be relieved and the patient made to feel that, after all, the ailment to which he is suffering must not be so serious since relief can be afforded so simply. Besides, when patients complain, something must be done for them. Medicine cannot be given for every symptom and yet some remedial measure there must be to satisfy them. This satisfaction will often be secured by changes of position, by slight local treatment, by the adjustment of pillows so as to relieve fatigue of particular muscles and parts of the body, and by the movements of the limbs and the head into other positions than those in which they have become fatigued. The experienced nurse is of the greatest possible value in these cases.

Restlessness.--Usually restlessness is considered to be an unfavorable symptom of disease, just as are pain and tenderness. Like these, however, it is really conservative rather than in any sense destructive. Pain prevents serious changes from taking place without our attention being effectively {212} called to them. Restlessness induces the patient to change position frequently and often leads to the discovery of some position in which there is much more comfort than the one that had been assumed. Restlessness, in the recumbent position, is usually nature's protest against the maintenance of a posture in which, owing to failure of circulation, there may be leakage of serum into the lung tissues with dangerous results. Restlessness, in abdominal pain, often leads to such a change of position as affords the best condition for the relief of the discomfort as far as that may be brought about by position of muscles. The man with colic very soon discovers that lying on his stomach may relieve his pain. The drawing up of the knees in peritoneal conditions is the result of a similar reaction. The physician must learn to imitate nature, and recognize what mechanical conditions are likely to be of help. As soon as these afford relief, they act as a strong favorable suggestion, on the patient, and relieve dreads with regard to his affection.

Joint Affections.--In painful joint conditions, position may help much to bring relief or at least considerable mitigation of symptoms. In rheumatism, for instance, of the acute articular type, a number of small pillows can be disposed in various ways, underneath the patient's limbs, between them and in other positions, so as to give as much comfort as possible and will often be of great value. There should be at least half a dozen pillows at the disposal of the patient, besides three or four for the head. In certain relaxed positions of the joints, there is more room within the capsule than others and, almost unconsciously, the patients assume such positions when there is pain from effusion. Occasionally, however, in the midst of fever, or because of apathy, patients may not do this, and then care should be taken to bring them some measure of relief. Generally patients suffering from fever, with delirium of typhoid condition, that is, when there is considerable apathy, should have their positions changed gently from time to time to prevent discomfort developing, and as a prophylactic against skin disturbances from pressure. In children, this is particularly important.

Bladder Evacuation.--In emptying the bladder position may mean much. After childbirth, especially the first, many women are quite unable to empty their bladders while lying down, though if they are allowed to assume the usual position there is little or no difficulty. In certain sensitive men whose power over their bladder is disturbed by self-consciousness, the presence of anyone in the room or near them, makes it impossible for them to urinate, and this is particularly true if they are lying down. In the milder forms of prostatism position occasionally seems to have some influence in helping to empty the bladder. When there is a prostatic bladder pouch behind the prostate, it is quite impossible to empty this in the standing position. It may be emptied in the prone position, that is, lying face downwards, particularly if the pelvis is elevated above the rest of the trunk. Undoubtedly some of the cures reported after operation, when the operation itself effected no reduction in the size of the prostate (as the removal of the testicles or vasectomy), the improvement was brought about partly by the more favorable position in which, for weeks after the operation, the patient emptied his bladder, and also by the greater control gained over it, by the persuasion that the operation would do him good. The same suggestion can be made in connection with the new position for urination with just as good effect.

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Intra-abdominal Conditions.--There are many intra-abdominal conditions in which position is of great importance for the relief of pain. Appendicitis cases are found with the right knee drawn up because this relieves the tension of the abdominal muscles, and probably also of the large muscles that go to the thigh and lie behind the peritoneal cavity. In most cases of intra-abdominal pain flexing of the knees on the abdomen means much in affording relief, and patients usually discover this for themselves. There are certain apathetic patients, however, who need to be helped by suggestions. In certain of the painful conditions, due to intra-pelvic conditions, relaxation of muscles by flexion lessens the pain. Pressure upon the abdomen, as by lying on a pillow, often does this also. Apparently one reason why children with flatulent colic stop crying almost at once, when laid on their stomachs, is because the pressure thus produced tends to bring about a movement of the gas that, collected at one or two places, was causing painful distention.

Importance to the Physician.--There are many other suggestions with regard to position that will occur to thoughtful physicians in particular cases. The one idea is to secure such an alteration of the posture as is likely to bring about mechanically relief of pain. If relief is afforded in this way, as has already been emphasized, a very favorable influence is produced on the patient's mind. Above all, he realizes that his physician not only understands his general condition, but his experience with many patients suffering from the same ailment has given him the power to direct even such slight changes of position as will give comfort. Nothing that I know adds more to the confidence that a patient has in his physician than the realization of this sort of knowledge. Therefore, the necessity for such consideration of each individual case as will enable the physician to recommend such modifications of position to patients. At the same time the patient's mind can be influenced very favorably by attaching definite significance to these alterations, and having them, as it were, repeat their favorable suggestions every time that he thinks about them, and be pleased as to the relief they have afforded. This is the sort of psychotherapy that is particularly likely to be successful, and it needs careful cultivation and development.

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IV. TRAINING

One of the most important factors for therapeusis in the sense of the amelioration of defective motor conditions, the relief of disturbing sensory affections and the restoration of or compensation for defective functions of various kinds is training. By this is meant the training of the power of attention and its concentration in such a way that defects are overcome. There are many examples of almost marvelous improvement of function brought about in this way that are familiar, but it is well to recall some of them here in order to illustrate the uses to which this therapeutic mode may be applied. A blind man is able to read by means of his finger tips, and to recognize raised letters that seem quite beyond the possibility of tactile recognition by {214} ordinary individuals gifted with all their senses. The peculiar skill is simply due to the individual being able by concentration of attention upon slight variations in touch sensation to recognize even minute differences readily and so read raised letters with comparative ease and rapidity.

Over and over again it has been shown that neither the congenitally blind nor those whose vision has become defective have any better sense of touch than the average person. With an esthesiometer, their power to recognize the distance between the points of a calipers is shown to be no better than that of an ordinarily sensitive individual. This is illustrated in other ways. Certain blind persons, even those born blind, are known to be able to distinguish colors more or less accurately, that is, at least the three primary colors. Their power to do this is consequent upon a faculty of recognizing differences in heat absorption. The ordinary seeing person going into a room in the dark recognizes at once the difference between a pencil and a piece of metal of the same shape and size by its weight and the greater tendency of the metal to feel colder. When we are not sure whether a pillar in a structure is of stone or an imitation, we determine this by touch, and the fact that stone absorbs heat rapidly while wood and other imitations of stone do not. It is the same faculty for distinguishing specific heat that enables certain blind people to recognize colors. If pieces of cloth of different colors are put over snow when the sun is shining on them, it will be found that black absorbs much more heat than the colored cloths, or white, and consequently that the snow melts faster beneath the black. After black comes red, then green, then blue. It is this difference in the power to absorb heat that the blind recognize and thus distinguish colors after long patient training of themselves.

Obstacle Sense.--An example of the value of training is the so-called obstacle sense which has been rather carefully studied in recent years. By means of it blind people are able to avoid larger obstacles and to know when they are passing an open door or window on a corridor or a building alongside a street. Blind children have been known to play in a garden where there were trees and other obstacles and carefully avoid them even while moving rather rapidly. This sense is disturbed whenever there is loud noise in the vicinity. It is not very active and yet it is of considerable value to the blind. Its disturbance by noise would seem to indicate that it is due to some sense faculty in the tympanum, or ear drum. It exists in everybody, but remains quite undeveloped except in those who need it and therefore learn to make use of it.

Touch and Sight.--The triumph of training is to be seen in the cases of those who are born blind and deaf and who yet are taught to understand through lip and throat reading by the tips of the fingers and taught to talk by being shown patiently the method by which others accomplish it, though the only avenue to their brain is the dull sense of touch which means so little for the ordinary individual. The cases of Laura Bridgeman and of Helen Keller illustrate how a sense that is usually quite neglected can be made to supply the place of both the eyes and the ears by patient, persistent training. Lip reading by sight is, of course, a very interesting example of the same principle that can be learned by anyone who has good sight in a comparatively short time. There are compensations of this kind and powers of development latent in every sense and function of the body that can be {215} employed to make life interesting and to restore usefulness after nearly every form of lesion or defect. Practically all of this compensatory power is mental, hence its place in psychotherapy. We do not increase the power of the sense but by concentration of attention the mind is rendered capable of obtaining definite information from sensory stimuli that are present in every person but that are ordinarily neglected.

Hearing.--One of the most surprising instances of the value of training for cases in which favorable results seemed quite out of the question, is Urbantschitsch's method of training the deaf to hear. After investigating it personally I reported it in the International Clinics. [Footnote 24] Patients who could hear but very little, indeed, only the loudest noises, were trained by means of loud shouting and the hearing of loud notes gradually to catch sounds more and more easily until not infrequently they could hear rather well. Sometimes even those who were thought to be absolutely deaf to sound were found to be able to hear very loud sounds and then it was invariably discovered that by practice they could be made to hear much more. The secret of the success consisted not in any increase in the power to hear, but entirely in training the attention to recognize and differentiate sounds so that what seemed at first a confused murmur gradually became intelligible. It is exactly the same process as that by which a man learns to read with his fingers. He is not able to differentiate the letters but after a time it is possible to do so without difficulty.

[Footnote 24: Lippincott & Co., Phila., Vol. IV, 8th series, 1899.]

Equilibrium.--There are typical examples of almost as striking increase of muscle sensation, or rather of ability to distinguish minute differences in muscular sensation, noted in those who train this faculty carefully. Acrobats succeed in developing wonderful control over muscles and marvelous response to slight disturbance of equilibrium. The ordinary individual has comparatively small balancing powers, but the slack-rope performer seems almost to defy the laws of gravity, because he has learned so to coordinate all muscular action as to enable him to maintain his balance. He has trained himself to distinguish every variety of message from his semicircular canals. Of itself neither of these senses gives us very much information, indeed, only as much as we ask for from it, but when we pay careful attention to the minute details of the information that it imparts, we are able to use it to great advantage.

Muscle Training.--It is this power of training to enable us to appreciate minute sensations that forms the basis of the Frenkel treatment of tabes. For the proper guidance of the muscles the muscular sense is all-important, though ordinarily we are quite unconscious of the information it conveys. This is seriously disturbed by the degeneration in tabes. The patient can, however, be taught to use even the slight amount of it that remains to great advantage or else to avail himself of some other compensatory sensations which will enable him to guide his muscles in various motions much better than before.

This same faculty can probably be employed in many other conditions. Frenkel has shown that it is applicable in paralysis agitans and markedly relieves the rigidity that is so annoying a symptom. It gives these patients something to occupy their minds, too, which means a great deal for their {216} general condition, for occupation of attention saves them from neurotic disturbance of themselves.

Sufferers from infantile paralysis can be taught to do many things with their weakened muscles that seem to be quite impossible to them. It requires patience to get results, but they mean so much that the efforts are well worth while. After cerebral incidents, sometimes actual apoplexies, sometimes injuries, occasionally serious effusions due to kidney diseases, there may be disturbance of motor functions. It is surprising how often training will enable the sufferer to use his muscles much better in these cases than at first seemed possible. I have seen a man who had lost most of his power for writing after a cerebral incident regain it as a consequence of being taught to write from his shoulder, instead of from the forearm as had been his custom.

Heart Training.--In recent years we have learned that training is not only good for the external muscles and enables them to do more work without discomfort, but that it is particularly beneficial to the heart muscle whenever that organ can respond to it favorably. At all of the heart cures in recent years, exercise of some kind or another is one of the important features and the failure of physicians generally to secure as good results while pursuing all the other methods followed at these cures, seems to show that exercise was probably the most important factor. Nauheim is the typical heart cure and there, besides the resisted movements in the bath, there is the graduated exercise of the walks around the town, all of which, owing to the situation, lead up hill. Walking up hill, even though it be a gradual ascent, might seem to be the worst possible exercise for heart patients, yet it proves eminently beneficial.

Respiratory Training.--Shortness of breath is often a bothersome symptom, especially for stout people, and prevents them from taking necessary exercise. When it cannot be traced directly to some affection of the heart or of the circulatory apparatus, it is usually due to lack of exercise. Much can be done for it by deliberate training. In the modern time, with elevators so common, people seldom have to walk up-stairs, and consequently one of the modes of exercise that was particularly likely to furnish some training in deep breathing is absent. Any one who has seen the shallow breathing of many of the patients who come to Nauheim and how much it has improved by the gradually increased walks up the hills around the valley, will appreciate how much training in deep breathing means. This exercise of the diaphragm will often give benefit besides in making the bowels more regular, and in getting rid of the accumulation of fat in the abdomen, which is one of the mechanical causes of the interference with the diaphragm and consequent shortness of breath.

Training the Appetite.--Just as training may be used for the sensory and motor systems that are external, so it may also be used for many internal functions analogous to these. There are a great many people who eat too little. They are the nervous, irritable persons with no fund of reserve energy to draw on when anything happens, and who are in their years before middle life likely to be the victims of infectious disease. They suffer much from lack of proper covering in the winter time and from a certain protection that is afforded to the nervous system generally by being up to weight. Often their under-weight is a life-story, and occasionally it is a family matter. When {217} they suffer from neurotic symptoms a gain in weight nearly always does them good. They complain that when they increase their diet they have uncomfortable feelings. This is only what is to be expected, since the muscularis of their stomach--much more important than its secretory function--has not been accustomed to as much exercise as is now being demanded of it.

On the other hand, for those who are over-weight, training in eating less is the one important therapeutic factor. If their diet is cut down suddenly, they soon become discouraged. If there is a gradual reduction of food quantities, variety being allowed, so that they may eat practically everything they have been eating before, the system gradually accommodates itself to less and less food. This is the only sensible way of bringing about reduction in weight. It requires constant attention over a long period, but it can be done with excellent success.

In the same way the bowels may be trained to perform their work regularly. Habit means probably more with them than any other factor. Our digestive tract, however, is largely dependent on habit. We get hungry three times a day or twice a day, according to the custom that we have established. Countries differ radically in the matter, and nearly always, when a man goes from one country to another in early years, he changes to the habits of the new country, though if he comes after middle age he usually clings to those that he is used to.

Training to Stand Pain.--There are many painful conditions, especially involving the muscles in the neighborhood of joints, that are worse on rainy days and are spoken of as rheumatism, that can be very much improved by training in the use of muscles. As men grow older and gain in weight, the lack of exercise in their sedentary lives incapacitates their muscles for activities of many kinds. The consequence is that where most strain is put upon them, in the neighborhood of joints, they readily become tender and painful. It is this class of cases particularly that is benefited by irregular practitioners of all kinds. Mental healing, osteopathy, Eddyism, the many liniments, rubbings and manipulations prove beneficial. What is needed is training in the use of muscles so as to enable them to do the work that is required of them without discomforting reaction. This is particularly true for the leg and foot muscles. Exercises that strengthen the muscles of the calf and of the thigh, and particularly such as require free movement of the foot, are almost sure to relieve these patients of many annoying symptoms. Pains around the ankles and in the knee and hip, worse in rainy weather, disappear as a consequence of such gradually increased use of these muscles as gives them increased nutrition and power. This subject is discussed more fully under Foot Troubles and Painful Conditions of the Knee.

There may be a training in bearing discomfort which is of great value to over-sensitive patients. Some nervous patients seem to suffer merely from their ordinary physiological functions. These are the patients who abuse the drugs that are supposed to bring relief. There is just one mode of treatment that is successful with them: they must be told to bear their discomfort for a while without seeking drug relief, but always securing freedom from discomfort by means of attention to other things, until gradually they have succeeded in diverting their minds from the concentration of attention on their functions which is causing their disturbance. The whole programme {218} need not be outlined to them or they will perhaps have a revulsion of feeling against it that will make its accomplishment impossible. They can, however, be made to stand their discomforts for a time with the promise that it is for the best, since there will be eventually an improvement.

Intellectual Faculties.--Nearly every one of our faculties can be trained to do much better work than we have any idea of if we only are willing to take the trouble and give the attention. I have often shown people who came complaining of loss of memory that if they wanted to train themselves to remember they could do so. The memory probably cannot be bettered any more than can the sense of touch in the blind man, but by attention to minute details, in the concentration of the mind on certain subjects, it can accomplish results that seemed quite impossible before. All systems of improving the memory are founded on this method of concentrating attention on what one wishes to remember and connecting it with other things that we know by experience are readily remembered.

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V. OCCUPATION OF MIND

Two classes of patients frequently apply to physicians for relief from various discomforts. They are, first, people who have no regular occupation and who often are in what is supposed to be the happy position of being able to do just what they please. The second class consists of those who take their occupations too seriously, so that they never get away from them and, as a consequence, disturb their physical functions. The feelings that these two classes complain of--for, when analyzed, their symptoms prove really to be uncomfortable feelings--can usually be "bothered" away and, if not entirely forgotten, made to disappear when the patients become deeply interested in something other than their usual occupation. The first class of patients needs occupation of mind; the second needs diversion of mind, and that subject will be taken up in another chapter.

Uncomfortable Sensations, Their Location and Causes.--These pains and aches, as patients call them, though it is well to remember that they are only discomforts, senses of unequal pressure, of constriction, or perhaps only unusual feelings, or consciousness of sensation, may occur in every part of the body. Perhaps they are most commonly complained of in the head. Many of the so-called headaches that are more or less continuous consist of these senses of pressure or of constriction over a particular part of the skull. Sometimes there may be a sense of pressure at the back of the eyes. Very often there is a feeling of heaviness at the back of the head that makes the patient feel as if relief would come if the head were allowed to drop forward and if sleep could be thus obtained. Every other portion of the head, however, even within the cavities, may have some of these uncomfortable sensations. In some persons, there is a tightness in the throat. In others, there is a feeling of fullness of one cheek and the dread that they may not be able to use it properly in talking. Sometimes the uncomfortable feeling is within the nose. Not infrequently the discomfort is in the ear.

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All of these may be due to local conditions which need to be corrected, but in most cases nothing is found locally, or at most there is some functional disturbance so slight that, though it is shared by a great many people in our climate, others do not complain of it at all. It seems evident, therefore, that the discomfort must result from the sensitiveness of the individual emphasizing the significance of some slight disturbance.

Every portion of the body may suffer from these discomforts. The upper part of the back, especially below the base of the neck, is a favorite location in men, and particularly in those who bend over a desk. The lower part of the back is affected in such men as tailors and cutters who stoop incessantly at their work. In women, the lower part of the back is likely to suffer, and this is usually attributed to genital conditions, but constipation may play quite as large a role as the genital organs. Some of the stooping occupations of women, at the sewing machine or dressmaking, or even harder occupations, as sweeping, washing, and the like, may also be responsible. The commonest source of discomfort is, perhaps, the upper left-hand quadrant of the abdomen. This seems to be due to the distention of the stomach, either by gas or by liquid. Vague discomforts may occur around the umbilicus, often due to the presence of gas, with or without borborygmi.

Generally the local condition is only an occasion, and the real cause of the complaint is the lack of occupation of mind and consequent concentration of attention on any organ whose function happens to be disturbed sufficiently to make one conscious of its action.

Lack of Occupation.--For all of these cases the most important therapeutic factor is occupation of mind and diversion of attention. In our time, social conditions allow a large number of people to have very little occupation. For instance, many women of the well-to-do classes have absolutely nothing that they must do. Various phases of this are discussed in previous sections.

As a rule, it is useless to try to relieve these discomforts by anodynes. Many an opium habit has been formed by a turning to opium in such cases. The coal tar products are greatly abused here, for they do not bring relief to queer feelings nor to a sense of pressure or discomfort; they rather add to depression. What they are efficacious for is acute pain. The coal tar products relieve even toothache or neuralgia, as well as a real headache, but I have had patients tell me over and over again that the continuous headaches from which they suffered were not relieved in the slightest degree by phenacetin or acetanilid. Occasionally one hears of hyoscine or hyoscyamus suggested for these conditions, but they are quite as useless and as much contraindicated as opium or the coal tar products. As a rule, these headaches are relieved by lying down; they disappear during sleep. The real indication for treatment, however, is found in the fact that all of these vague discomforts are much better or even disappear when the patient is intensely occupied, or at least pleasurably engaged.

What these people need is occupation that really catches their interest and takes attention from themselves. One of the most striking expressions of this truth that we have comes from the poor, sad, mad poet, Cowper:

Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.

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And surely poor Cowper, himself the victim of depression, saved from himself only by the suggestion that he should put into poetic form the thoughts that came so abundantly to him, could well understand the depth of wisdom in his couplet. The story of Cowper's life is enough of itself to encourage physician and patient to persevere in the effort to lift depression by occupation, since the fruits of that occupation may prove so valuable.

Mental Short-Circuit.--The minds of these people must do something, and since there is nothing really occupying for them to do, in a very expressive modern phrase, they are doing their possessors. As we suggest elsewhere, the nearest simile is that of the short-circuiting of a dynamo. Mental energy is exerted harmfully within the machine instead of in doing work.

See what happens in these cases when by some chance the women, or the men, who complain almost constantly are suddenly deprived of the means which enabled them to live an aimless life. The physician often has patients who have been in affluence but after a financial panic are in straitened circumstances. It is interesting to note what an excellent tonic effect, in younger people always, in older people very often, the change of life has on these chronic valetudinarians. Sometimes this is attributed to the simpler life which they lead when poorer, occasionally to the lack of responsibility, or other similar reason. Nearly always it is easy to see that the real cause of the improvement in health is the occupation of mind with serious interests outside of self.

Regulation of Life.--In the matter of occupation, and especially occupation of mind, the formation of habits and the training of the will are extremely important. In his book on "The Education of the Will," which was so popular that it went through over thirty editions in France, M. Jules Payot [Footnote 25] emphasizes the necessity for deliberately arranging the details of life so that time shall not hang heavily on the hands, he reverts to certain rules of life of the old religious orders, and to the habits advised by spiritual directors. He counsels that every one should make an examination of the day's happenings at the end of it, in order to see just where the failures lay and in what accomplishment was made. At the end of this old-fashioned examination of conscience, he counsels that a set of resolutions for the next day be made and an arrangement of work for various times, so that even more may be accomplished.

[Footnote 25: English translation by Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe. New York, 1909.]

M. Payot further suggests that a certain time be given up to reflection, or as he calls it, meditation, on the significance of life and on the consideration whether something valuable is being made of it. Without this he insists that it is easy to let one's self slip into habits of life in which absolutely nothing is accomplished for self or others. If there is no real accomplishment, then pleasure soon palls, because pleasure has a place only as an interval in the midst of labor and as a relief from effort. These reversions to the old modes of life and thought of the monastic communities show how little of real advance there is in life, and what excellent conclusions serious men came to even in the distant past. Certainly for many of the leisure class in modern times only the use of periods of reflection and the examination of {221} results obtained will serve to prevent that utter waste of time which leads to the intense dissatisfaction that is often reflected in the general health.

Thought for Others.--After forgetfulness of self, the most important factor in psychotherapeutics is thoughtfulness for others. Ordinary diversions are quite insufficient to occupy most people. One must have a serious occupation that appeals deeply, and then diversions of mind will be useful for purposes of recreation. Pleasure, so-called, if pursued not as an interruption from work but for its own sake and without serious occupation, palls, and after a time its votaries find life is scarcely worth living. The pursuit of pleasure as the sole interest of life is one of the most fruitful resources of depression, discouragement and neurotic symptoms with which modern physicians are brought in contact. The only way to be sure of having compelling interests is to be so much occupied with other people that one forgets self.

Yet mere flippant excitement and superficial entertainment is nothing but a cheap counterfeit of what is needed. Voluntary effort is needed, and this is the field where the psychotherapist must put in his most intelligent effort. There is no one for whom there is not a chance for work in our social fabric. The prescription of work has not only to be adjusted to the abilities, the knowledge, and social conditions, but has to be chosen in such a way that it is full of associations and ultimately of joyful emotions. Useless work can never confer the greatest benefits; mere physical exercises are therefore psychophysically not as valuable as real sport, while physically, of course, the regulated exercises may be far superior to the haphazard work in sport. To solve picture puzzles, even if they absorb the attention for a week, can never have the same effect as a real interest in a human puzzle. There is a chance for social work for every woman and every man, work which can well be chosen in full adjustment to the personal preference and likings. Not everybody is fit for charity work, and those who are may be entirely unfitted for work in the interest of the beautification of the town. Only it has to be work; mere automobiling to charity places or talking in meetings on problems which have not been studied will, of course, be merely another form of the disorganizing superficiality. The hysterical lady on Fifth Avenue and the psychasthenic old maid in the New England country town both simply have to learn to do useful work with a concentrated effort and a high purpose. From a long experience I have to confess that I have seen that this unsentimental remedy is the safest and most important prescription in the prescription book of the psychotherapist.

Care of Children.--Probably the most important therapeutic factor in the cure of the ills which come to unoccupied women is the finding of some occupation that will absorb their hearts as well as their intellects, that is, satisfy their feelings as well as appeal to their intelligence. That very acute observer and kenner of her sex, Mrs. St. Leger Harrison, who is Charles Kingsley's daughter and writes under the pseudonym of "Lucas Malet," said in "Sir Richard Calmady": "Feed their hearts and the rest of the mechanism runs easy. I have known disease to develop in a perfectly healthy woman simply because the heart was starved." For most women the only thing that will entirely satisfy the heart or keep it from hunger is children. Fortunately an interest in other people's children can, under certain circumstances, be almost as satisfying as in one's own.

Interest in Others.--Probably the best possible occupation that a childless woman can have is the care of others. Charity in one form or another satisfies the emotions as well as creates interest and gives varied occupations. Even the frequent disillusions that are encountered in charity work only add variety {222} to the experience, and do not discourage those who have the real charity instinct. For women particularly, as we have said, some charity that brings them much in contact with children is the surest preventive of over-occupation with themselves and over-emphasis on their feelings and sufferings. Many a woman in our large cities owes her freedom from the neurotic symptoms to which her sisters are subject, to her interest in tuberculous children. There is just enough of suffering to arouse all the pity of the visitor, without so much of anguish as would deter the more delicate from being interested in the work.

Touch with Real Suffering,--For patients who think they have much to suffer, yet whose complaints are all of subjective feelings of oppression and depression, there is no better remedy than to come in touch with real suffering. I have known not a few neurotic young women, who were preparing for themselves years of suffering by over-attention to little pains and aches, saved to a life of usefulness and even happiness by having to nurse near relatives through the last stages of fatal cancer. When these neurotic persons are brought intimately in touch with real suffering, have their sympathies aroused, and see how well human nature can bear pain when it has to, and yet not be impatient, nor wish to end it all, then a renewed life comes over them and they cease to be preoccupied with themselves.

Sympathy as a Remedy.--In former days, when hospitals were not so well provided and trained nurses non-existent, all forms of suffering had a wider appeal and aroused more active sympathy than at present. It is true that patients, in both hospitals and homes, suffered from the lack of trained nursing, and that was an even greater disadvantage. But it is, nevertheless, too bad that more actual touch with suffering does not come to people now, for nothing is so sure to make little ills disappear as the sympathy aroused by the sight of real suffering. Certainly, our cancer cases might well be a strong therapeutic factor for many of the neurotic ills of the world. They are, of course, deterrent to many people. It would seem to add needlessly to human suffering for some of the delicate to have to be in contact with what is one of the most awful afflictions that flesh is heir to. If death and suffering were not inevitable, we might try to save people from the suffering which sympathy entails. But there is no avoiding them; soon or late they are sure to come to everyone. The upbuilding of character, consequent upon intimacy with them, is of great value, and really brings so much of contentment to people who are over-worried about little things that it is worth while to recall how valuable this sympathy for suffering is in psychotherapy.

I have spoken of this phase of occupation as if it referred only to women. There are many men of whom one may well say that they need more human sympathy in their lives and that if they had it their supposed ills would drop from them, or seem so slight as to be quite negligible. Over and over again, I have seen men who had become too occupied with themselves lose their pains and aches in an interest in some real charity. Charity, however, not philanthropy, is the secret. The sitting on a board of trustees of a charitable institution may mean little though even this usually has its good effect; but close contact with the poor, intimate personal relations with other human beings who are in suffering, are quite as necessary for men over-occupied with themselves as for women.

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Care of the Incurable.--Mother Lathrop (Hawthorne's daughter) in her cancer work prefers not to take patients suffering from incurable cancer into the homes that she has for them, if they can in any way be cared for reasonably at their own home. Of course, the main reason is because there is so much of cancer in the community (one in thirty of the population now die of it), that it is impossible to take care of all the cases that apply for admission. Another excellent reason is that it would be too bad to take out of a home the opportunity for self-discipline that is afforded by the care of one of these patients, when it does not inflict an intolerable burden on someone already overworked. As a rule, the effect of attendance on such a patient does so much for character upbuilding, and for a proper realization of values in life, that trivial things fall into their right places. Anyone who has seen the development of character, And the growth in amenity of disposition of those who bear such a burden with patience, will realize just what is meant by the expressions used.

Finding Mental Occupation.--For many of his patients the physician simply must find occupation of mind. Not a little racking of brain is needed for this, until experience helps. One form of occupation of mind that seemed quite unpromising at first, but that has in a number of cases proved of value, is the committing to memory of passages in verse. A generation ago it was quite common for people to have their memories stored with fine passages from authors which they could repeat literally. Latin verse particularly was learned by the school boys of fifty years ago. Frenchmen know their classical poets, and some of the Italians also know theirs with wonderful fidelity. It is said that, even in his advanced years, Pope Leo XIII could repeat long passages of Dante and often found a relief from pressing cares of state in the ponderings of the great thoughts recalled by the verses. I have known half a dozen Italian clergymen who could from memory follow up a line of Dante, taken anywhere in the poet's writings, with the rest of the passage.

Such well-stored memories furnished much more abundant food for thought to their possessors than do those of the modern time. Our modern system of education has done away, to a great extent, with learning by heart, but as one of those educated under the older system and who is still able to recall many passages from Pope, or Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," or "The Traveler," or from Virgil or Horace, I feel sure that this is a serious mistake. In some cases I have deliberately tried to make up for it by having people, even well on in years, settle down to memory lessons again. Under disorders of memory I suggest the use of this practice as a valuable training which serves first to dispel the idea that memory is failing when it is only lack of attention and of concentration of mind that is at fault, and secondly, because after a time there can be observed an actual improvement of the memory faculty. Here I would insist on its value as an occupation of mind for those who lack some serious interests. I have found it to be ever so much better as a diversion than reading or the theater. If the interest in it can be awakened, it represents a valuable adjunct in the treatment of some rather difficult cases of mental short-circuiting. Lord Chesterfield, in one of his letters, suggested to his son that even very brief periods during the day--those that are ordinarily used for the fulfillment of bodily necessities--might be employed to store the memory with valuable quotations, great thoughts {224} greatly expressed, and this should be recalled. After a little practice not near so much time is required for memory work as might be imagined, and the effects are excellent.

Much of this may seem too trivial for the physician to occupy himself with and quite apart from his duties as a practitioner of medical science. But it must not be forgotten that medical science is as yet quite imperfect and the practice of medicine is an art. What we have to do, is to treat individual patients rather than cure cases, for that is why medicine is a profession. Each affected individual who comes to us is quite different from any other. In spite of our grouping them under certain heads, the diseases of the race are as distinct from one another as the features of the individuals affected.

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VI. DIVERSION OF MIND--HOBBIES

There are two classes for whom diversion is of the utmost value. The first are over-occupied with themselves; and the second group are so occupied with some one interest in life, or with one narrow set of interests, that it becomes an obsession, never leaving them. Constancy of mental occupation with one set of thoughts proves seriously disturbing after a time, especially if the only amusements available are so superficial that they do not really act as a diversion. Many of the so-called neurasthenic or psychasthenic states (I would prefer to call them conditions of nervous weakness and of psychic impotency, because the simpler names carry with them no suggestion of a definite ailment) are really the consequence of this lack of any true diversion. The patients do not get any genuine rest.

The typical example of such lack of diversion is the business man who, contrary to the wisdom of the ages, takes his business home with him. If we accept Ramon y Cajal's theory of attention, by which whenever a particular portion of the brain is occupied with a subject the capillary blood vessels in that particular part are pulled wide open by the contraction of the neuroglia cells, certain of the brain tissues in these cases are constantly in a state of congestion. It is not surprising that such men suffer from insomnia. It is scarcely less to be wondered at if their digestion suffers, since that function is so important that it requires most of the nervous energy that a man can provide at certain times. Besides his brain cells are never really resting. If a man goes to sleep with a thought and wakes with it, even though he may not be quite conscious of the fact, his mind has been occupied with it. Brain cells need definite periods of rest. These cells are not getting such rest--hence the development of many pathological conditions.

I have described the extreme case, but it is not exaggerated. Writers, editors, scientific investigators and generally those whose work does not bring them much in contact with others, are likely to thus suffer. Contact with others, even on business matters, seems to have a relaxing effect. Social amenities and personal interests prevent absolute concentration of mind over long periods. In some people even milder degrees of preoccupation with a {225} single subject may work harm. Some people are able to stand concentration of mind for many hours a day for years. Others cannot. We have come to recognize that more than eight hours a day is a mistake, but there are many people who cannot work more than a four-hour day. The sooner this is recognized and diversion of mind provided, the better for them. This is one of the most important benefits that psychotherapy can confer on many of the so-called neurasthenics.

Possibility of Diversion of Attention from Ills.--The necessity for diversion of attention from one's ills is best realized by considering what happens in the opposite direction. Headache, toothache, and many other uncomfortable feelings, especially discomfort associated with abdominal disturbances, can be entirely banished from the mind by pleasant association with friends, by an interesting play, by a game of cards, or, indeed, by almost anything that takes up the attention completely. It is well understood that the severer forms of pains can not be thus banished, but discomforts that make life miserable for the patient may be entirely relieved for the time being. If this power of mind to divert attention from the ills of the body means so much, it is not hard to understand that if this mental influence be directed in the other way, that is, to emphasize the ailment by attention to it, it will not be long before symptoms become quite unbearable.

Hobbies.--A hobby is the physical salvation for a man who wants to work hard, yet not become so absorbed in his work that it becomes an obsession. Unfortunately, it is not possible to create a hobby for a man or a woman in a short time. It must be a growth for many years until it has become a portion of one's life. It must, as far as possible, be something to which one turns with as much interest as to one's regular occupation, so that the time taken from it, even for the necessary vocation of life, is more or less resented. If a man has two occupations that are intensely interesting, then he gets the best possible rest. Otherwise it will be necessary in many cases for the physician to help him in the choice of another interest in life. It is not enough that there should be a vacation once a year, or a conventional day off on Sunday. There must be much more than this, deliberately planned and faithfully carried out.

Gladstone.--Men with hobbies have done some of the best of the world's work; busy for many hours every day, they have yet lived to be eighty and even ninety years of age, and have been industrious to the end. A typical example in our generation was Gladstone, the great English statesman. Few men had their minds occupied with more serious problems than he for nearly forty years of a busy existence. In spite of this, he found time to make a study of Greek literature and of ecclesiastical writers; He acquired even more authority perhaps in these subjects than in political science, doing the work of several men, yet he lived to be an extremely old man. He welcomed the opportunity to get away from one kind of work in order to devote himself to another, but this occupation of an entirely different set of brain cells gave those that had been previously at work opportunity for complete rest. Very probably, except at times of special crisis or stress of anxiety, his political problems did not disturb his studies of Greek literature, not because he insisted on keeping them away, but because this other interest was so absorbing that it required no special effort to occupy his mind completely with it.

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Virchow.--For more than a year I lived close to the great German pathologist, Virchow, and found that his varied interests were probably the secret of his power to devote himself to work for many hours a day, take only a small amount of sleep and yet live healthily and happily for over eighty years. Frequently he did not leave the Prussian legislature until 1 a. m., or even later, and yet he seldom failed to be at his laboratory before 7:30 o'clock in the morning, though it was several miles from his home and took over half an hour to get there. Besides pathology, he was deeply interested in anthropology and in most of the biological sciences, and his favorite hobby was the practical care of the health of the city of Berlin. From the time when Berlin, just after the Franco-Prussian war, began to grow out of the half-million provincial town that it was, into the great world capital that it became, a transformation that took less than twenty years, Virchow had charge of the health of the men engaged on the sewer farms of the city. Berlin, unlike other great capitals, is not situated on a large stream that will carry off its excreta, and consequently a new problem in sewage disposal had to be met. The sewage was spread over fields outside the city and proved, as might be expected, a magnificent fertilizer. The whole cost of sewage disposal was recouped from the sale of the farm products.

Prophecies of dire disaster of many kinds were made when this system was first proposed. It was said that the men engaged on the farms would suffer from all sorts of disease, especially respiratory and intestinal diseases, that the farm products would be insanitary, and the whole plant would be such a disease producer for the city as to become a nuisance. Virchow was put in charge of the sanitary side of the project, and how well he fulfilled his obligations is shown by the statistics. The people who worked on the farms were healthier than the average inhabitants of Berlin, and were especially free from intestinal disease. Every phase of disease that occurred among the workers on the farms, and there were many thousands of them with their families, was reported to Virchow. Every night, the last thing before he went to bed, he looked over this report and if there were any suspicious cases, made arrangements for the prevention of the spread of disease.

This of itself might seem work enough for one man, but it was only a diversion for Virchow, turning his mind away from his other intellectual work completely during certain hours of the day. His visits to the farms, his planning for the prevention of the spread of disease, his deep interest in the reports and the constant improvement of conditions, instead of hampering his other intellectual activity by wasting brain force, probably proved restful by diverting the blood stream away to the cells that occupied themselves with this other and very different problem, and so proved a benefit, not an evil. Perhaps other men might not have had the store of nervous energy to enable them to carry on work in this way, but for those who have, this is the ideal arrangement. There are many others whose names might be mentioned here. John Bigelow and Pope Leo XIII are typical recent examples. Great workers are usually long livers, barring accident, and all of them have had variety of occupation.

Necessity for Diversity of Occupation.--Even for those of lesser intellectual capacity, it is advisable to have, in a lower order of intellectual occupation, two very different things in which there is intense interest. The blase {227} attitude in which the individual finds no interest in anything and nothing worth doing, makes it impossible to secure such relaxation as will give relief from worry. So long as nothing happens to call for special resistive vitality, such people may go on nursing their unhappiness. It is from this class, however, that the suicides come. The mind becomes occupied with the worries that it cannot get away from, sleep is interfered with; the worries become an obsession, and brain exhaustion results. It is usually said that suicides are insane, and to this extent certainly the expression is true. Certain brain cells have so long been occupied with a particular subject, because the mind has no other interest to divert attention and blood supply to other portions, that these cells are overborne and become utterly beyond the control of reason and will.

Intervals in Work.--The old university rule of long ago was that no one should do more than two hours of intellectual work continuously at the same subject. Certain of the monastic orders required scholars and students to take a break from an intellectual occupation for a measured interval at least every two hours. The modern business man, and even the literary man or reporter, would think this preposterous. The rule is, however, founded on good common sense, for it relieves the tension and keeps conditions of strain from inveterating themselves in such a way as to do harm.

As a matter of fact, better work is accomplished if it is done in two-hour intervals, with a break of fifteen minutes to a half-hour between, than if the attempt is made to work longer. This may not be true for certain forms of creative literary work, where, when the mood is on, it is easier to finish things than if a break occurs, but these are exceptional cases, and even here there may be serious abuse. Many of the men who work late at night eventually get into habits that seriously impair their sleep. This system of rest prevents such a strain from being put upon the physical organs underlying attention as will prevent them from promptly relaxing when the call upon them has ceased.

There are, of course, men for whom no such rules as these seem to be needed, because they apparently thrive on work. These are exceptions, however, that prove the rule. They will usually be found on investigation to have been men who lived very simply and permitted themselves very little excitement. There is great danger in imitating them because most of them had a superabundant vitality which expressed itself in longevity as well as in a noteworthy capacity for work. They had superabundant brain power to run their business (even though it was deeply intellectual), but then, too, these men were careful not to throw extra burdens upon their digestive organs, nor to abuse stimulants, nor to permit a regular routine of work to be disturbed. When symptoms of nerve weakness begin to show themselves, even the exceptional men must be warned of the danger. The causes of the exhaustion of nervous vitality should be pointed out, and an improvement of habits insisted upon.

Amusement and the Mind.--The theater, as it is at the present time, affords very little opportunity for mental relaxation. Most of our theatricals are mere show that occupies the eye but does not seriously catch the attention, especially after a certain number of types of these performances have been attended. The humor of the comedians of our musical comedy may, for {228} a certain number of people, mean something as a diversion of mind, but it does not last. Unfortunately, practically all their humor runs along the same line, most of it is extremely superficial, much of it is borrowed and wears signs of its origin, not a little of it is mere horse-play, which may divert children but not grown men, and so the theater as a mental relaxation has lost nearly all of its effect. Other diversions are sometimes more hopeful. For baseball enthusiasts, attendance at a game may be such a complete occupation of mind as to furnish thorough relaxation.

The kind of work that provides mental relaxation for others often proves exhausting to those who do it. Humorists, especially those who have to grind out paragraphs or columns of humor every day or every week, are usually melancholy men. The story of Grimaldi illustrates how serious may be the effect of work that seems mere play if pursued too singly. This humorist on one occasion consulted a specialist in mental diseases, for certain symptoms of nervous breakdown and depression that were causing him much annoyance and even more solicitude. The specialist believed in diversion of mind, and, having been to see Grimaldi the night before and enjoyed him hugely, though he did not recognize him off the stage, counseled him to go and see that humorist and have his "blue devils" banished for good. "If Grimaldi won't cure you of your depression," he added, "I don't know anything that will." "My God!" the humorist said, "then don't leave me in despair. Man, I am Grimaldi!"

Sports.--Unfortunately in our modern life we have to a great extent lost the idea of sport. The conventional make-shifts of life in a camp that is really a luxurious country house, or on a luxurious yacht, do not replace the complete diversions that came with real camping, hunting, fishing, sailing and the like. People now go to the country, but take the city with them. They live in country hotels and make five changes of clothing in the day, if not more. If men are interested in hunting and fishing and can go into the forest (unfortunately even the Adirondacks can scarcely be so designated now and we have to go into the Canadian wilderness to get away from the pall of regular life and civilization), complete recreation is secured. This makes a real vacation which does not mean absolute freedom of mind, but freedom from other cares so that one may with complete absorption apply himself to something different. During the year sports for grown-ups are difficult to obtain. Some men continue well on in middle life to play tennis, hand-ball, and certain other games, O fortunati nimium, that make the best kind of diversion. Fortunately, in recent years golf has become a favorite and for many makes a genuine diversion.

Children's Diversions.--In recent years we have so interfered with the normal natural development of the child that there is need to emphasize certain details in this matter. The modern child is apt to be precociously occupied with books and adult interests, because he is brought so much into the foreground of family interests. True play for some city-bred children is almost an anomaly. Exercise and air they get. They are conducted solemnly to the park by a nursemaid, who is instructed to see that they do not play with other children unless quite as well dressed as they are themselves, and their dress is often so elaborate that it is quite impossible for them to think of any real play. There is absolutely no recreation for the child in this procedure: on {229} the contrary, a new effort of will is required to walk with the stately propriety that is expected of it. Then the child is preoccupied with the thought of its clothes. Relaxation of mind is often quite out of the question, and yet we wonder why children are nervous and do not sleep well, why they have night terrors and do not digest their food properly, while all the time they are living unnatural lives that give no proper outlet for their energies and little diversion for their mind.

Games are important, but their true spirit has gone out in recent years. There are still a few young people who play for the sake of the sport, but everything now seems to be a preparation for some sort of contest. Only those are engaged in these contests and the preparation for them whose muscular development is such as to suggest that they will help to win. Winning, and not sport, has become the purpose of our games. This makes the participants worry about the games and associate them with dread of errors and ill chances. It is true that the interest for the contestants during the game is sufficient to make up for this and make the game valuable as relaxation; but those who need such relaxation most--the boys and girls who are underdeveloped muscularly--must sit and watch the contests, and this, after one has become accustomed to it, like newspaper reading and the theater, constitutes a poor apology for the complete relaxation of mind and diversion of brain-cell energy that used to come with sports when they were freely indulged, for the sake of the sport and not for the sake of winning.

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VII. HABIT

Few people realize how powerful a factor for physical, as well as moral, good and evil is habit. The old expression that habit is second nature is amply illustrated in the most familiar experiences. The child, unable at the beginning to make any but the most ill-directed movements, learns during its first two years to make the most complex co-ordinated movements--first with difficulty, then with ease, and finally with such facility that there is no need for it to pay any but the most perfunctory attention to their execution. Walking requires the co-ordination of a large number of muscles so that the absolute position of every muscle in both the legs and in the trunk, at least as far as the shoulders, must be definitely known and their activity properly directed. Perhaps nothing brings out more clearly the difficulty of walking, though it depends on only one factor, the co-ordination of the two sides of the body, than the story of the Italian Tozzi twins. They were born with two heads and shoulders and with only one pair of legs. It was found that each head ruled the leg on its own side of the body. It was impossible for the creatures to walk. They lived to adolescent life, yet never succeeded in walking. The intimate association of the lower parts of their trunk and the long years of companionship of their brains, did not enable them to accomplish what seems to us so commonplace a co-ordination of movement as walking.

Formation of Habits.--The co-ordination of the two limbs is after all only a small portion of walking. The body must be held erect, the curve of {230} the spine must be managed so that the center of gravity is kept well within the base, and gluteal and femoral and calf muscles must all be co-ordinated with one another. In a few months a child learns to do all this, and in a couple of years it executes all the co-ordinate motions with such certainty that walking becomes not only an easy matter but an absolutely unconscious accomplishment that can be carried on while the mind is occupied with something else or while it becomes so abstracted that surrounding objects are not noticed.

A far more difficult co-ordination is required for talking. It is only when we analyze how nicely adjusted must be every movement, in order to pronounce consonants and vowels properly and to combine them in various ways, that we realize how complex is the mechanism of talking. A difference of a hundredth of an inch in the movement of the tongue, or less than that in the movements of various muscles of the larynx, makes all the differences between clear articulation and a defect of speech. In the course of the years up to seven, the child learns this wonderful co-ordination apparently without difficulty, but really at the cost of constant well-directed effort. There is no time in human existence when the child really learns so much as during the first four years of its existence, even if it learns nothing else except to walk and to talk. The foolishness of obtruding other things, information and study of various kinds, on the child's attention at this time should be manifest.

Unconscious Regulation of Muscles.--What is thus prefigured in early life invades every activity in later years. The boy who learns to ride a bicycle must at first devote all his attention to it, but after a while rides it quite unconsciously, his muscles having learned by habit to accommodate themselves automatically to all the varying positions of his machine. Anything well learned by habit is never forgotten. How hard it is to learn to swim, yet, after years away from the practice of it, the art comes back at once. The same is true of skating, and of the nice adjustments of muscles required in various games. Such is the influence of habit in forming a second nature. It is no wonder that Reid, the Scotch philosopher, should have written:

As without instinct the infant could not live to become a man, so without habit man would remain an infant through life, and would be as helpless, as unhandy, as speechless, and as much a child in understanding at threescore as at three.

Commenting on this Prof. J. P. Gordy, in his "New Psychology," [Footnote 26] says:

[Footnote 26: "New Psychology," by J. P. Gordy, New York, 1898.]

Strong as this statement seems, it is probably an understatement of the truth. Without habit, we should rather say, a man would be as helpless, as speechless, as unhandy at three-score as at birth. Habit is the architect that builds the feeble rudimentary powers of the child into the strong, developed powers of the full-grown man. If a child's vague, purposeless movements give place to definite movements performed for definite purposes, if his sensations become more definite, if his perceptions become clearer, if his memory becomes more accurate, if he reasons more and more correctly and logically, it is because of habit.

Law of Habit.--The law of habit is that every time we perform any action, mental or physical, or allow ourselves to be affected in any way, we have more proneness to, and greater facility in the performance of that action or in {231} experiencing that affection under similar circumstances, than we had before. In the chapter on Tics, I call attention to the fact that all the curious gestures by which we are individualized, are due to the law of habit. It is infinitely amusing to watch a group of people and note the endlessly different habits of which they have become the victims. There are tricks of speech and tricks of gesture eminently characteristic and often quite laughably individualistic. We imitate, especially those of whom we think much. Sometimes it is only when a father's attention is called to them in his sons that he realizes the ludicrousness, or at least laughableness, of some of the things he does, and he proceeds to correct both generations of their faults.

PHYSICAL HABITS

Habit and Food.--Most of our likes and dislikes for food are neither physical nor physiological, but simply habitual. We have become accustomed to certain things, and so we like them. We are unaccustomed to them, and do not care for them. It is amusing when people put forward these lacks of habituation as if they were physiological idiosyncracies. Many thin people do not like butter and milk. The real reason for this is not any peculiarity of digestion, or any gastric incompatibility, at least in 99 cases out of every 100, but the mere fact that they are not habituated to their use. That is one of the reasons why they are thin. Our tastes for curious foreign foods are nearly all deliberately acquired. Not one in ten ordinary Americans likes olives or caviar when first tasted. Nearly every curious article of food is "caviar to the general" at first trial. Later it becomes impossible to understand how we could have had any objection to them. At times, even an actual craving for them asserts itself as a consequence of the habitual use, and then deprivation means positive discomfort.

Slow Eating.--One of the most valuable habits that a man can cultivate, but one of the most difficult to acquire in our time, is that of eating slowly. Most Americans bolt their food to a degree that would be quite appalling to them if they realized what they were doing. Pieces of potatoe as large as the end of the thumb are swallowed. Bread and milk may be eaten so hurriedly as to be as potent a source of digestive disturbance as fried onions. There seems no doubt from what we know of Fletcher's experience and Chittendan and Follin's studies that a man derives more nutrition from food that is masticated properly, that he can get along and do his work on less material and that, above all, there is not the same tendency for him to put on weight that is so common among people after reaching middle age.

Sir Andrew Clarke used to have his patients chew a definite number ol times on each bite--say thirty times. Even so great a man as Gladstone submitted to this rule and gradually learned to accustom himself to eating very slowly. Fletcher's system of chewing the food until it passes down the esophagus of itself without any swallowing effort is a better rule. It is a surprise to most people how unconsciously swallowing can be accomplished in this way and how little liquid is needed in order to prepare food to be swallowed. The formation of the habit, however, is not an easy one. Persistence and frequent reminders are needed, or else the beginnings of the habit are soon dissipated and old bolting habits reassert themselves.

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Water Drinking.--In drinking, habit is as supreme as in eating. The majority of people who work outside and perform muscular labor crave and take an abundance of water. Many of those who live indoors, especially in steam-heated houses, may need it quite as much if not more, but get out of the habit of drinking water. As we need about three quarts of water per day for use in our economy, this no water habit often becomes a serious factor in the production of physiological disturbances. We have replaced water drinking and the milk drinking of the olden times by tea and coffee, and as these are stimulants, habits form very readily with regard to them. I have known people who were sure they would be miserable without their half-dozen cups of tea or coffee each day, and who actually would be miserable for a few days, when deprived of it. They were seriously impairing the efficiency of their nervous system by so much stimulation. Unfortunately, it is just those whose nervous systems have least stability, and are already the subjects of more stimulation by conscious introspection than is good for them, that are most likely to form the tea and coffee habits, and who are most harmed by them, though they find it hard to understand the reason therefor.

Air and Exercise Habits.--Habits with regard to exercise and fresh air are particularly important. In this matter it is only habit that can be really helpful. To work at high pressure indoors for several days, and then, when one is quite on edge, to take a lot of severe physical exercise is not good. Every human being should go out between meals. I am not one of those who believe much in exercise for exercise's sake--what is needed is fresh air. Our sanatorium patients who sit out-doors all day have fine appetites. The advice to a busy man that he must form the habit of being out between every two meals for from half an hour to an hour would usually evoke a strenuous protest, but all he needs to do is to get up half an hour earlier and walk down to his office, and if he will walk back in the evening he will have plenty of air and exercise between his meals.

Change of Habits.--Patients do not want to change their habits. They come to a doctor to be treated. They want some medicine that will, without further inconvenience, rid them of certain discomforting symptoms. At the beginning, at least, patients resent interference with their habits. They are quite satisfied, and to modify them requires an effort that must be continued for some time. The changing of old habits and the formation of new habits are most important for the ordinary ills to which mankind is prone. Modifications of habit constitute real hygiene and are not mere corrections of symptoms, permitting the habits that have led up to them to go on.

Patients may conclude that it is too much trouble to change their habits. We all know persons who feel that they can not give up their coffee. As to whether or not the modification of a habit is worth the trouble it involves, the patient must be the judge after the case is put properly before him. It is possible that he may learn to endure the inconvenience given him by his symptoms rather than to stand the inconvenience of changing a nicely settled habit, and forming a new one. The reward should be put very plainly before him, however, and besides, the consequences of his habit in the future should be suggested so that he may realize just what it will lead to.

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MENTAL HABITS

It is evident from the foregoing that physical habits have much to do with making life easier and saving expenditure of nervous energy, but just this same thing holds good for mental states. With care, a proper habit of mind and of the mental attitude towards difficulties in life, can be so cultivated as to ward off many of the discouragements, and most of the causes of depression that weigh heavily on some people. The natural disposition can not be entirely overcome, but habit, as a second nature, can modify the personality so as to make conditions much better than before.

With this wonderful power in habit, it is too bad that its force for good is not used. It is especially important that its force for evil shall not allowed to dominate human actions so as to make them harder of accomplishment. Many people, who are greatly troubled by the inconveniences and discomforts necessarily associated with human life, worry over it to such a degree as to make themselves sick. The expression I have quoted elsewhere of the old man who said, "I have had many troubles but most of them never happened," is a typical example of what the habit of looking at things from a wrong standpoint means to many people. They are confirmed pessimists. Their one consolation, when a small evil happens to them, is that perhaps this may be sufficient to ward off the greater evil that fate surely has in store.

Pessimism.--Pessimism has been defined as sticking one's nose in a dungheap and then asking, "How is it that it smells bad around here?" Some people are always nursing a grievance. No matter how many times they may happen to have been undeceived, still the next time the opportunity occurs they are sure that fate or friends or someone has it in for them and that the worst may happen at any time. In the expressive words of a recent slang phrase, they have a "perennial grouch." This state of mind toward the environment not only prevents the physical and mental good that cheerfulness brings with it, but it unfavorably influences physical conditions within the body. People suffering from indigestion are usually morbid, petulant, and hard to get along with. Many a dyspeptic makes this an excuse for his bad temper. Anyone who has had to study these cases much soon comes to the conclusion that the beginning of the digestive disturbance was the gloomy outlook on life, which flowed inward to disturb the digestion and all the other animal functions.

Depression of Mind and Body.--Patients suffering from melancholia nearly always lose in weight. As a result of their lowered vitality, there is a suppression of the nervous impulses which rule over nutrition, with a consequent loss of weight. In cases where there are only tendencies to depression and gloom, the effect upon the digestive system is not so marked but there is no doubt that there is some effect, and that the indigestion in these cases is more often than not a result of the depressed state of mind, rather than the depression of mind the result of the indigestion.

Moodiness.--The habit of looking at the gloomy side of things is easily formed and, once acquired, it becomes very forceful. Many a man who was quite cheerful when young, becomes moody as he grows older. Nearly everyone permits moods more than is good for him. The attitude of mind that should be cultivated is one in which it is realized that, though there may be {234} many sources of evil in the world there is a preponderance of good even in the worst environment, and that opportunities for making the best of things will be found by any cheerful disposition. Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch is a typical example in fiction of the optimism that counts. Miss Helen Keller in real life is a typical example of how the most untoward circumstances can not crush the spirit of man if he only wishes to be cheerful--if he only tries to lift himself above his surroundings, no matter how discouraging they may seem to be. No one is without discouragement and causes for unhappiness. "Happy he who has least," the Greek dramatist said.

The difference between the optimistic and the pessimistic point of view is much more a matter of habit than is usually thought to be the case. Indeed, there is good reason for assuming that it is so largely a matter of habit, that other factors count for little. We all know individuals who, after having, been cheery, bright, hopeful and helpful, have had some incident sour them and then they have been just the opposite. This did not come all at once; it was a growth. They felt hurt and aggrieved, and then began to look at things through dark glasses, and after a time could see nothing on its brighter side. Not infrequently, as doctors well know, the growth of such a moody disposition has been the signal for the development of a series of complaints, if not of actual symptoms, and men and women who have not been in the doctor's hands before now become valetudinarians. This new physical condition is often attributed by their friends, by themselves, and even by complacent physicians, to the effect upon them of the trial or disappointment that struck them. Only too often it is wholly due to the cultivation of a habit of pessimism consequent upon a shock that for the moment pushed their cheerfulness into the background. Strong characters will not be thus easily affected, but weaker characters need not suffer such a change of disposition and with it a deterioration of health or well-being unless they so will it.

MANNERS AND DISPOSITION

Habit can modify nature so much as to make what is practically another man. We all know how the dancing master can transform a country gawk into a refined, courteous society man (not gentleman, for that is something else) of graceful carriage and even handsome bearing. He cannot do this for all the pupils that come to him, for it is impossible to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but for anyone that comes with good will the revolution in manners is often a revelation to those who have known the man before. When the exterior can be changed so much, the interior attitude toward other people certainly can be greatly modified.

Persons of a melancholic disposition may be surprisingly cheerful, and even gay, with comparative strangers when they make the effort to be so. For many people, meeting with strangers is an excellent remedial measure. It stirs them up to present the best side, and it occupies attention to the exclusion of themselves in a way that is extremely beneficial. If people would only form the habit of being as courteous to their own folks as they are to others, the disposition involved in this would often save them from certain symptoms, and save their physicians from many complaints.

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Happiness is the basis of good health. The phrase is often put the other way: Good health is the basis of happiness. Without health there is no happiness. But every physician knows that many a patient suffering from real organic ills, and having much physical pain to bear, still has many hours of happiness in working for others. This happiness reflected back upon his physical life is not able to cure his ailments, but does so lessen the significance of the symptoms as to make the ailment more bearable.

THERAPEUTIC IMPORTANCE OF HABIT

The most important therapeutic element in the formation of good habits, mental and physical, is that habit does away with the necessity for conscious regulation of many details of life. Without habits of doing things, we have to make numerous decisions and keep on making them under conditions that require special effort and waste of energy. When habit asserts itself, there is little or no difficulty. Habits of living in airy rooms, of taking exercise, of food regulation as to quantity and quality, of methods of taking food as regards mastication, the quantity of fluid ingested, the hours of meals and the like, can all be formed and then followed without effort. Just inasmuch as life can be ruled by habit, nerve force is conserved. This is as true for our attitude towards life, our disposition and consequently our satisfaction with life, as for anything else that we do. Habitual cheerfulness, habitual readiness to make allowance for others and to be helpful to them, habitual self-control--all of these things can be cultivated. Properly cultivated, they save much of the wear and tear of life, and make for contentment and happiness much more than many of the things for which men strive so anxiously because they seem to promise happiness.

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VIII. PAIN

Pain, while always a dreaded symptom of disease, seems, with the increase of comfort and the gradual abolition that has come in our time of many of the trials of existence, to have had its terrors increased. Even a slight pain or ache is dreaded, and if continuous or frequently repeated, becomes for many people a trial that is almost impossible to bear. This is all the more to be deplored because ability to stand a certain amount of pain, with reasonable equanimity, is almost a necessary condition of rapid recovery from disease or injury. Placidity of mind favors the flow of nerve impulses for reconstructive purposes, while over-reaction to pain inhibits the natural processes of repair. According to Shakespeare's heroine: "There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently." Pain is usually supposed to be an essentially physical phenomena for which mental influence can be of little, if any, benefit. As a matter of fact, however, the mental attitude towards pain modifies it to a considerable degree. I have quoted Hippocrates' declaration that a greater pain drives out a lesser pain. Any strong preoccupation of mind will greatly lessen pain at any time.

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Pain is not, after all, in the nerves, nor in the central nervous system, but in the consciousness. Just as there is no sound unless the waves in the air arouse recognition in the consciousness, so there is no pain unless the disturbance of nerves finds its way above the threshold of consciousness. Nerves may be racked, yet no sensation may be felt. There may be pain in the mind apart from the nerves, and slight nervous affections may produce severe pains. The whole question of the treatment of pain involves the individual much more than it does the affliction which causes the pain. What seems unbearable pain to many may be little more than a passing annoyance to others. What would be, under ordinary circumstances, intolerable torture, especially to sensitive people, may, because of intense preoccupation of mind, remain absolutely unnoticed. Maniacal patients sometimes inflict what would normally be extremely severe pain on themselves by burning or mutilation without any manifestation of pain. In the excitement of a panic men may suffer what would, under other circumstances, be excruciating agony, and yet not know that they are hurt.

To a mind that is without serious interest, even slight pain, if continuous, soon becomes unbearable. The course of pain, where there is no diversion of mind, is an interesting study. While suffering, we seem always able to bear the pain of the present moment, and it is only the cumulative effect of the pain that is past and the anticipation of the discomfort to come, that make the pain unbearable. Nearly, always it is much more the dread of what the pain may mean, and the lack of power to endure which gradually develops as a consequence of suffering, that constitute the worst features of pain. At the beginning of a period of pain we stand it well, as a rule, but its continual nagging debilitates us and heightens our susceptibility until we cannot nerve ourselves to further endurance. If our power of endurance were not thus gradually lessened the pain would not seem severe. There are many neurotic people whose susceptibility to pain has been so much increased by their lack of self-control and their tendency to react easily to pain, that even slight pain becomes a torment. Psychotherapy should gradually train these people to a power of endurance.

Pain from Over-Attention.--Much of what is called pain is really due to such concentration of mind on a particular portion of the body that the ordinary sensations of that part, usually accomplished quite unconsciously, become first a source of uneasy discomfort and then an ache or pain. There may be some slight physical disturbance which calls attention to the part, but there is no really serious pathological condition. While such pains are spoken of as imaginary it must be remembered that this does not mean that they are non-existent. On the contrary they may be much more real to the patient than physical ailments. A pain in the mind is a much more serious condition than having it in the body.

While pain may be thus created by concentration of attention, it must not be forgotten that what the mind can do in increasing pain is even more important than in originating it. Slight discomforts by concentration of attention on them may be made insupportable. It is this element in pain, above all, that the physician requires skill to alleviate. Habits of introspection and the lack of serious occupation of mind of many people leave them the victims of over attention to themselves. In trying to relieve their pain it may be {237} comparatively easy to alleviate their physical condition, but the mental condition, once aroused, may remain, and may easily tempt to the use of habit-forming drugs or others that may do serious harm. The story of the evil effects of headache powders in recent years, and of the opium habits formed in olden times, are a significant commentary on this fact. It is probable that in most of these cases, the discomfort for which remedies were frequently taken was of a kind that should have been treated only partly, if at all, by drugs. It is more important to lessen susceptibility than to try to cure the pain.

The relation of the mind to what is often considered severe physical pain, has come to be generally recognized in recent years. Neuralgias, for instance, have often been reported as recurring after fright, or strong emotion, or worry. It is at moments when patients are much run down in health that pains are particularly likely to be unrelievable, and during periods of emotional strain that anodyne drugs are most called for and are most likely to be abused.

Rest and Pain.--In any study of pain and its relief, one must always recur to that classical contribution to medicine, now in the fiftieth year of its publication and still as important as when it was written, Hilton's "Rest and Pain." He calls attention to the fact that what he wrote was only a development of what many practical physicians had thought long before his time. He quotes a prize essay of the French surgeon, David, written in 1778. Hilton's development of the idea that pain is usually a signal on the part of nature for rest, and that rest will usually enable her to overcome the pathological condition and so relieve the pain without recourse to drugs, is, and ever must be, the basic element in the therapeutics of pain. How many forms rest may take can only be judged by a careful reading of Hilton's book. The oftener one reads it, the better one realizes how much of precious common sense and acute clinical observation there is in it. It is essentially a book of psychotherapy. It treats the patient's mind first and then through that changes his habits, persuades him of the need of rest, directs how that rest should be taken and so leads up to his natural cure.

Every treatment of pain must include rest of mind as well as body. Hilton has particularly dwelt on the rest of body. Rest of mind is just as important. Many pains could be easily borne were it not for the worry that accompanies them. A slight pain becomes greatly annoying because the patient's general condition makes it impossible to stand discomfort with equanimity, and there has been no training in self-control. In spite of all our advance in medicine, we are not likely ever to make life so free from pain that people can go through it without needing self-control. Training in self-control is an important psychotherapeutic prophylactic. If, with a certain amount of capacity to bear discomfort, there goes such rest of mind as does not exaggerate or emphasize the condition, then many of the pains of life lose their power to annoy, all of them are distinctly lessened and the relief of them by accessory physical methods becomes easier.

Pain in Its Relation to Life.--There is an unfortunate tendency to exaggerate the significance of pain. We have cultivated irritability in the physical sense, rather than the power of endurance. Patients should, as far as possible, be lifted out of this condition of over-delicate sensitiveness and put into a state where the idea of pain is not so serious. Only in this way can {238} the more or less inevitable discomforts of life be borne without such reactions as seriously interfere with health. It may be said to be other than the physician's business to secure this magnanimity, but as magnanimity is needed in our patients, and there is no one else to respond, physicians must start its cultivation. The necessity for learning to bear minor discomforts, at least without exaggerated reaction, need not be presented to the patient directly, but can be gradually made a part of the system of treatment. By absorption in other interests, the consciousness of these discomforts disappears without the necessity for recourse to drugs.

Self-Denial.--Many thoughtful people are sure that what is needed to make a large number of our generation more happy, or at least less miserable, is training in self-denial and in self-control. The word self-denial has come to have a very distant sound for most of our generation. From early childhood anything that is unpleasant is shunned and anything that is difficult is likely to be shirked. The head-master of Eton College has recently insisted that too much is being done to please young folks and too little to stimulate them to activity. He declares that, as a rule, any undertaking begins to be useful just where it ceases to be simply pleasant. Unpleasantness is avoided to such a degree that the habit of thinking that it has no part in life comes to be a second nature. As a consequence, the reaction to any continued unpleasantness is likely to be exaggerated and make the subject very miserable, and sometimes disturbs and discourages, whereas it should have the effect of stimulating to reactive efforts, to bring out the best that is in us.

Hinton emphasizes the fact that an ingredient of pain is necessary to all health or pleasure. The fatigue and the hardship associated with mountain climbing is a portion of the essence of the pleasure in it. All healthy, pleasant exercise has an accompaniment of fatigue and some aches and pains. What is needed, then, in our time is the training to do things for the sake of doing them. We should be neglectful of the discomfort that may be associated with them, or we should even consciously rejoice in the fact that this very discomfort is of itself a sign that functions are being used to such an extent, that their limits are being expanded, their limitations overcome.

It may well be said that it is not the physician who, as a rule, should do this; it should be accomplished in the early years by the teachers and trainers of the young. True enough. But physicians can at least help in reforming the tradition in this matter so as to neutralize the present state of mind which seems to look upon pain as an evil. Pain is always either a conservative sensation or an actual stimulus to function. Besides, many of the present generation who come to us, having had no training in the precious qualities of self-denial and self-control under difficulties and discomforts, must have this knowledge supplied for them as far as possible by suggestions of various kinds. It is more difficult to accomplish much in this matter for the adult, but even in apparently hopeless cases of over-attention to self and incapacity to bear discomfort, much can be accomplished by patience and persistence.

The common dread of suffering is quite unwarranted by what we know about the effect of pain. There are many motives that may be adduced to make it seem less terrifying than it now is to many people. The effect of pain upon character is always excellent. The difference between two brothers, as we have said, one of whom has had the discipline of pain or suffering and {239} the development of sympathy that comes with it, and the other who has not had the advantage of this great human experience, is likely to be marked. In the one there is a depth of human nature that enables him to appreciate and even to express the meaning of life better than his apparently more fortunate brother. Practically all the men who have ever got close to the heart of the mystery of life, and expressed it in poetry or other form of literature or art, have gone through suffering as a portion of their training. Even the suffering that comes from ill health is never wasted. Men have gone through it who have thought that the ecstasy of relief following it made the experience worth while.

Men are not deterred from action by the prospect of even severe pain. Probably no greater physical suffering can possibly be invited than is sure to come to those who go on Arctic expeditions, or who undertake prospecting in Alaska. Of course, many of the prospectors find themselves in the bitter cold of the North without having realized what they would have to stand. But Arctic explorers, as a rule, know exactly what they have to expect. Most of of them have been through it all before, yet they deliberately choose to go again for rewards that, to an average man's eyes, seem trivial. The memory of past pain is rather pleasant. Virgil's "Perhaps it will be pleasant to recall these trials at some future time" is not poetic exaggeration.

The Discipline of Pain.--There is only one way to learn how to bear pain, and that is by practice in it. There might be no necessity for this in case life were arranged differently. But all men must die, and death inevitably involves a painful process. Suffering is practically unavoidable for the majority of men. Even in the midst of every possible material comfort, cancer may come with all its hideous connotations. It is important, then, that everyone should be prepared to stand some pain. Certain suggestions help in bearing special pains.

Pain Diffusion.--Pain along one nerve may readily become diffused. This diffusion will sometimes cause discomfort, and even tenderness, at a distance from the original seat of the pain. Such diffusion tends to produce in the patient's mind the idea that the underlying pathological condition is spreading, though it is only a sign that the nervous system is becoming irritable and easily responding to sensory disturbance. Dr. Head's investigations ("Brain," 1893), should be known to physicians, and the conclusions that flow from them should be presented to patients who are sometimes suffering quite as much from their apprehension of the spread of pain, and its significance, as from the discomfort itself. Dr. Head says:

If I have an aching tooth, the pain is at first localized to the tooth affected. The longer the toothache continues the more I become worn out, and the pain is rapidly accentuated by a "neuralgia," that is, a pain in the face. The neuralgia is soon accompanied by distinct cutaneous tenderness over a definite area on the face corresponding to the tooth affected. If I am anemic, or if the pain remains untreated until my bodily health is affected, I no longer have a localized area of tenderness, but the pain, and with it the tenderness, spreads until the whole of one-half of the head and even the neck may be intensely tender. Thus at last the pain of an aching tooth has produced tenderness over areas which bear no relation to the affected organ.

As pain can be suppressed by diversion of mind, or concentration of thought on something that creates great preoccupation, it must not be {240} forgotten that pain may almost be created by concentration of attention on certain areas of the body, or certain nerve tracts. Over-attention will actually make sensations intolerable that are at first quite indifferent, or at least very easy to bear. Sensitive people, in the ordinary meaning of that term, are those who are much given to paying attention to their sensations, and who therefore have much to complain of them. There is much in modern life that has the tendency to produce this sybaritic condition in which even slight discomforts become the sources of almost unbearable annoyance.

Even where there is no good physical reason for the occurrence of pain, thinking may produce discomfort. The one thing that Freud's work has made clear is that in neurotic persons the memory of a mental shock or strain may be transferred to some portion of the body related in some way to the shock, and then prove to be the source of hysterical pains and also of hysterical palsy. The case told by him in which the young woman massaging her father's limbs allows them always to rest on her own lap during the process, and after his death suffers from an hysterical, painful condition in this region, is a typical illustration. Her sympathy for her father, accentuated by his subsequent death, and her sorrow at a time when her nursing efforts made her particularly susceptible, led to an explosion of nervous energy along those nerves which had always felt the impress of his legs. The hysterical condition resulted. This is an extreme case. In milder forms it would be possible to explain many otherwise inexplicable pains and aches in sensitive young people along these same lines.

More than once I have seen young women, who had been asked to rub father or mother with liniment, complain of tingling pains in their fingers which were followed by some redness so that one would be tempted to think of Weir Mitchell's disease, though evidently the pathological cause at work was the slight disturbance of the vasomotor system due to the liniment and the rubbing, emphasized by the sympathetic feelings, and by the over-attention which this brought about. Whenever women have, for a prolonged period, to nurse others in whom they are deeply interested, and have to perform some habitual action that is somewhat fatiguing for them, after the death of the patient there will not infrequently be the development of hysterical or neurotic over-sensitiveness in the parts employed. This may give rise even to an hysterical joint, or to severe neurotic pains. Once these cases are recognized, the attention can be diverted from themselves and they can be made to understand that their grief and sympathy are being concentrated on the part and by transfer are producing physical manifestations. The pain is not imaginary, but the condition will improve as soon as the mind is diverted from it.

Neurotic and Organic Pain.--The distinction between pain due to a neurosis and to a definite lesion is often difficult to make. If there is a definite localization of pain, it is almost surely not neurotic, but organic. If there are certain positions in which pain is felt while it disappears in others, there is some local inflammatory or congestive condition and not mere hypersensitiveness of nerves at the bottom of it. These positions of maximum pain are important. When pain radiates a great deal, even though there may be complaint of a particular region, it is usually neurotic. If patients are asked to tell exactly where their pain is, and they indicate its location by a wave of the hand, it is probable that the condition is neurotic. When there is a definite {241} localized point of tenderness with the pain, even though there may be radiations, usually the condition is based upon some organic trouble. It must not be forgotten, however, that slight local troubles may by concentration of mind on them, become exaggerated and that, in spite of the fact that there is or was at the beginning a definite localization of pain with some tenderness, the neurotic elements may, after a time, become manifest and prove to be much more important than the others.

Pain that is definitely influenced by motion, as by the jarring effect of walking, or by bending and stooping, is practically always organic. The best differential diagnosis between neurotic abdominal conditions and organic trouble can be made by the help of information obtained in this way. If the appendix is inflamed, or the gall bladder infected, or contains a calculus, or if the kidney has a calculus, these are all made worse by movements, by jarring, by stooping as in tying the shoes, by riding on rough roads, and the like. If patients who suffer from obscure abdominal conditions associated with pain of which they complain much, can, at certain times, indulge with impunity in these exercises and motions, it is probable that their attacks are neurotic in character. Especially is this true if the indulgence in these rides and motions is without effect when they are in pleasant, agreeable company, though there may be some complaints when they have to ride alone, or under conditions that are less pleasant. If a hint of this distinction by which the physician differentiates one form of pain from another is given a neurotic patient, the suggestion will serve the purpose of producing complaints whenever the opportunity presents itself. Such patients take such suggestions, as a rule, without wishing to deceive, but they become persuaded that their sufferings are of the character asked for.

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SPECIAL PSYCHOTHERAPY

SECTION VI

THE DIGESTIVE TRACT

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I. INFLUENCE OF MIND ON FOOD DIGESTION

With the progress of biological chemistry, digestion came to be considered a purely chemical process. Now we realize that even more important than the chemical factors of digestion is the individual liking for particular kinds of food, and the mental attitude of the patient toward digestion.

Not only may mental factors interrupt or hamper digestive processes generally but, as the investigations of Pawlow at the Imperial Institute of St. Petersburg show, they may modify very materially the chemical processes within the stomach. If, for investigation purposes, a stomach pouch be experimentally segregated in a dog from the rest of the stomach, and the dog be fed food that he has a particular liking for, the gastric juice manufactured will be especially strong and effective. If the food given be less to the dog's liking, the gastric juice is not nearly so efficient in its activity. Finally, if food be consumed for which the dog does not care, but which he takes because hunger compels him, the gastric juice manufactured for its digestion is quite weak and the process of digestion is slow. If this is true for an animal like the dog, whose psyche is comparatively of much less importance than that of human beings, the corresponding influences in men and women will be even more emphasized. This is only what common experience has always shown us. The human stomach is not a test-tube in which mere chemical processes are carried on, but its vital activity is of great importance. That vital activity depends to a large extent on the state of mind, on the relish with which food is eaten, on the individual likes and dislikes, and on the emotional condition during digestion.

Prejudices and Digestion.--Perfectly good food materials may become difficult or impossible of digestion as the result of learning something about their mode of preparation. In the country this is often noted, with regard to butter, milk, and even eggs. The story of the farmer's wife who wanted to trade her own butter for an equivalent amount made by someone else illustrates the influence of mind over relish for food. She was candid enough to say that the reason she wanted to exchange the butter was that a mouse had been seen in the cream, and her children could not, therefore, eat it. She took {243} back home with her exactly the same butter in another crock, and there was no further difficulty, though before this the children would have been actually sick if compelled to eat the butter. I once saw a family of three women who had vomited because they heard that the dishes had been washed in a slop pan, though this proved to be a mistake. Such occurrences emphasize the necessity for properly predisposing the mind, and for removing unfavorable suggestion, if digestion is to proceed properly.

Mental States and the Stomach.--The typical example of the influence of the mind on the digestive tract is to be found in the experiences of Flaubert, the French novelist, while writing "Madame Bovary." When he was writing the scene in which he describes the effects of the arsenic which Madame Bovary takes, he himself suffered from practically all the symptoms due to the drug. In order to describe it faithfully he had studied it carefully. He had the pains, the vomiting, the burning feeling and even the garlicky, metallic taste in his mouth. Such an incident is extremely exceptional, yet its possibility is recognized, and it illustrates how sensitive some people are to the action of mental states upon the body, and how large a role a strongly excited imagination can play in producing definite physical symptoms. There are many more such realistic imaginations than we have, perhaps, been inclined to suspect. It is over these particularly that the psychotherapeutist can exert his influence by helping to modify the cause of their symptoms, the mental attitude which exists, rather than by trying to change the symptoms which are only effects, for diseases must, as far as possible, be treated in their causes.

Disgust and Disturbance of Digestion.--Max Mueller's story, told in his book on "Language," to show how language might have been a human invention from imitation of natural sounds, illustrates the influence of an unfavorable state of mind in disturbing digestion. An Englishman, traveling in China, fearful lest he should not be able to obtain food that he cared for, because of his lack of knowledge of the language of the country, was rather surprised on his first day's journey into the interior, to be served with a stew made of some kind of dark meat that tasted very well indeed and with which he was so much pleased that he asked for a second helping. Just as he was about to eat the second portion, he thought it well to ask the waiter what sort of meat it was, as he wished to be able to obtain the same kind at other places. Calling the waiter to him, he said, pointing to the dish of meat with a questioning tone, "Quack, quack?" The waiter at once shook his head and said, "Ugh! bow wow!" The Englishman pushed the second portion away and got up from the table.

Tinder the same circumstances nearly everybody would feel the same qualmishness--at least all who had been brought up according to our Western notions. Reason has little or nothing to do with it. It is a question of feeling. The dog is much more cleanly in its habits than the hog, but we in the West are used to the idea of eating hog-meat just as they in the East are used to eating dog-meat. The objection, of course, might be urged that the difference between the hog and the dog is that we do not eat carnivorous but only herbivorous animals. But the slop-fed hogs from the neighborhood of our large cities, constituting a goodly portion of those brought to market, eat meat quite ravenously. They certainly are not exclusively herbivorous. There is no {244} principle behind our objection to dog meal then--only the unfamiliarity of the idea of eating it.

The treatment of patients with digestive disturbances requires a careful analysis of the conditions of mind towards foods. If prejudice exists with regard to certain foods, there will be no relish for them, and unless these prejudices can be removed, the foods either will not be taken, though they represent important nutritional elements, or else they must be taken in such small quantities and digested with so much consciousness of their presence and such difficulty as to be a disturbing factor for health. Persuasion, the custom of the country, habit, training, mean much for this modification of mental attitude.

Custom and Food.--In recent years many parts of animals, not generally eaten before, have come to be consumed with a relish because of the removal of prejudices against them. It might be thought that organs like the kidney, the essential function of which is excretory, and through which so much of the offensive waste products of the body pass, could not be a relished article of food. But it has become quite a dainty. The liver, owing to the peculiar nature of its function, its very special flavor, and the staining with bile, might be expected to be objectionable. It is not, but, strange to say, a third organ of the abdominal cavity, the spleen, which has none of the external objectionable features of kidney or liver, is not yet eaten, and most people would probably find it rather difficult to eat it. This difficulty would result, not because of anything in the organic substance itself, but because of the lack of accustomedness to it. There are a number of people who now have trained themselves to eat it. Such apparently impossible portions of the animal as the intestines, even those of the hog, are eaten with relish by a great many people, though there are others who have never been able to get used to them. The dainties of some peoples are utterly repulsive to others. The French like brains and other special portions of animals that are not much eaten by Anglo-Saxons. Fried brains in black butter sauce are enough to turn the stomach of some people by the very thought of it, though it is a highly prized dish in the south of France.

In Italy most visitors eat snail soup with relish before they know what it is. It seems to be a special kind of gumbo soup. Down at Marseilles, gourmets occasionally eat angle-worms and find them to be a very appetizing dish. In all of these things the question of relish and peaceful, happy digestion depends entirely on the attitude of mind. The first men who ate eels must have been looked upon with considerable suspicion by their neighbors as viper eaters, and probably they themselves were not comfortable over the feat. It has been said that the first man who ever swallowed an oyster performed as great a feat as any of our important inventors or discoverers.

Gastric Antipathies.--To the great majority of mankind the idea of eating horseflesh is repulsive. Numbers of people in various parts of Europe have found, however, that after the initial repugnance is conquered, it is quite as pleasant to eat as cow's meat. To my taste, at least, it is much more palatable than venison or bear meat. At the beginning, its sweetish taste has a curious reflex effect. Taken in connection with the thought that this is horse meat, the taste is apt to produce a sensation of nausea. This is readily overcome, though the first time it is necessary to keep constantly inhibiting {245} the mind from acting unfavorably upon the stomach during the course of eating and digestion. Custom, I learned from many, soon made it quite as savory as beef.

Food Varieties and the Mind.--How easy it may be to overcome many prejudices in the matter of food digestion under the stress of necessity and the influence of example, was well illustrated during the siege of Paris. The Parisians, though a most delicate people in the matter of eating, were able to accommodate themselves to the conditions, and practically every kind of animal was eaten with a relish. Before the siege, to most of them it would have seemed quite impossible, that they should sit down with complacency to the dishes which afterwards were so appetizing. At the beginning there was a definite attempt to conceal the eating of rats, mice, cats and dogs under various names, and by various modes of preparation. But it was not long before there was an end of this pretense. The animals in the zoological garden proved a veritable life-saving store of meat. Every one of them was eaten, people were glad to get them, and paid high prices for them. Camel steaks, elephant cutlets, lion and tiger stews, appeared under their own names, even at the banquets of the wealthy.

What is true of the mental attitude for meats influencing not only the relish for them, but their digestion, is also true for many vegetables. There are unfavorable suggestions in the minds of many with regard to the supposed indigestibility of potatoes, turnips, carrots, beans and occasionally with regard to tomatoes, lettuce, or the like. A few definite physiological idiosyncrasies against these vegetables, or certain of them, do actually exist. The attitude of mind, however, is largely responsible for the discomfort that occurs after the consumption of most of them. Patients who ought to consume more starchy substances, or whose bowels need the residual materials that are contained in these vegetables, for the sake of their effect upon peristalsis, should be persuaded to take these vegetables, first in small quantities and then in gradually increasing amounts. Many of them can thus be brought to a diet at once more nutritious and more likely to help out intestinal function. Their objection to them is usually but a fancy.

Genuine Food Idiosyncrasies.--There are certain genuine idiosyncrasies with a physiological basis which prevent the taking of certain kinds of food, or cause disturbance if they are taken, but these are rare. Their presence should never be considered as demonstrated by subjective signs alone for these are eminently fallacious. In certain cases, however, so rare as to be almost always curiosities in medical practice, there are definite objective symptoms of the idiosyncrasy. These consist of urticarial rashes, tendencies to vomiting, or diarrhea, or both. Sometimes these result from the most bland and nutritious of foods. I have notes of the cases of two children--whose father could not eat eggs without vomiting--and to whom fresh eggs fed at the age of two and three years, always produced this same effect. Even small portions of egg would cause it. It mattered not how the egg was prepared, nor even whether it was carefully concealed in custard or in cake provided there was a certain amount of it, the food eaten with it would be vomited. There are many such idiosyncrasies for shell fish, cheese, and such fruits as strawberries, pineapples, pomegranates and the like, but they are demonstrated by objective signs. But by far the greater number of food dislikes are entirely {246} subjective and the subjective feelings can probably always be overcome by habit and training.

Food Dislikes.--Milk.--Nothing makes more clear the absolute dominion of the mind over the stomach than the likes and dislikes of people for various kinds of milk. Most Americans can take cow's milk with good relish, though there are a few to whom it is distasteful. In this country we have not had much experience with the milk of other animals. Even goat's milk is not commonly used. The very thought of taking it disturbs many people, and to take it with other food would almost surely produce disturbance of digestion. I have seen people while traveling quite upset over the discovery that goat's milk had been put into their tea or coffee. Mare's milk is commonly used in some parts of Europe and in many parts of Asia, but it would be quite impossible to most of our people. Sheep's milk is used in some places. Ass's milk is commonly used in parts of Asia and may be obtained in Spain and is said to be less likely to disagree with children in summer than cow's milk. Most American mothers would rather not hear of it.

The same thing is true of the milk products. Some people find certain kinds of cheese quite out of the question though other people relish them. It requires special training, not of stomach but of mind, to enable one to eat certain cheese, though once the habit has been acquired such articles are delicious. It is only in recent years that some forms of cheese with greenish tints have become popular in America. To serve them at a dinner a generation ago disgusted many people. Now a dinner does not seem complete without them.

The beverages of various countries illustrate this same principle. The wines the Spaniards care for are not palatable to the Italians, and vice versa. Beer, as the result of familiarity, is now drunk everywhere in Europe, but when it was first introduced into Italy from Germany, it was considered impossible to understand how anybody could take it and pretend that its taste was pleasant. The question is said to have been once asked of one of the Congregations at Rome whether it was permissible to take beer on fast days. The Cardinals who tasted it declared that not only did it seem to them permissible but that it was a mortification to drink it and therefore it was proper Lenten exercise.

Eggs.--Many people have a supposed natural repugnance for eggs which they are sure indicates that these are not good for them. As a result, the physician gets all sorts of stories with regard to the supposed effects of eggs. One person tells you that more than two eggs a day makes him bilious. Another will tell you that they are too heavy for him. A third will tell you that they are distinctly constipating. A fourth will tell you that they produce a tendency to diarrhea. Here, as with regard to milk, the experience of the tuberculosis sanatoria has shown that there are but few people who cannot, when properly persuaded and when eggs are given in various forms, take from four to six eggs in the day without injury, and even without inconvenience. In these cases, it is largely a matter of mental attitude towards the food. In many instances, it will be found that the disinclination began in some experience in childhood when an egg was not very good, or when it was served insufficiently cooked, or when, perhaps, eggs always cooked one way were made a staple of the diet for a considerable period. There are over one hundred {247} ways of cooking eggs and this variety of preparation will often make them palatable, and nearly always digestible.

Over and over again I have seen people who had thought that eggs made them bilious, and who accordingly had for long refused to eat them, put in circumstances (from tuberculosis, diabetes, or obesity) where eggs had to form a considerable portion of the diet. Then there was no difficulty about eating and digesting eggs. In three cases in my experience patients with an objection they thought constitutional, developed glycosuria, and then nearly all their desserts were custards, and eggs became a standing dish in their daily diet. In every case not only was there no trouble, but they got to like the eggs and wondered why they should ever have had any prejudice against them. Two of the patients were women, the third a man who had not touched eggs for many years. His wife's comment was: "Eggs always made him bilious when he did not take them, but now that he is taking them freely they no longer make him bilious."

Mental Changes and Digestion.--The change that has come over the public mind with regard to sour milk is a typical illustration of how much a difference in the mental attitude towards a food product may mean for its satisfactory consumption by many people. Sour milk, though many farmers and working people thought it a pleasant acid beverage, was for long looked upon as a product fit at most to be fed to the pigs, if, indeed, there might not be question even of the advisability of this. Only the very poor who craved the nutritious value there was in it, continued to take it to any extent. Even if the milk still tasted sweet, but broke when it went into the tea, that was enough to make it quite impossible for many sensitive stomachs.

Lactic Acid as a Bactericide.--Then came Metchnikoff's announcement that his studies showed sour milk to be an extremely valuable food material, but much more than that, an important auxiliary for the lessening of microbic life in the intestines. He seemed to be able to demonstrate that a great many bacteria, whose products, absorbed from the intestines, hastened that process of deterioration in the tissues that we call old age, were inhibited when sour milk or lactic acid bacteria were present. The general health of the person who took sour milk was, as a consequence, much better. Not only this, but processes of deterioration being lessened, prolonged life and even old age could be promised to those who drank sour milk in sufficient quantities. Metchnikoff had been brought to the study of this question by what he had seen on the Steppes of Russia. Among the nomad tribes a principal part of whose diet consists of soured mare's milk, he found a large proportion of very old people. In looking for the reason for this disproportionate longevity, he came to the conclusion that the sour milk had something to do with it. Then laboratory observations and experiments as to the influence of the bacillus, that causes the souring of the milk, on the growth of other bacteria, and especially such bacteria as are usually found in the human digestive tract, seemed to show that the lactic bacteria had a strong inhibitory effect on nearly all the pathologic flora of the intestines.

As the result of these studies, all the world is now quite willing to take its share of sour milk. We no longer hear the complaint that uncomfortable feelings in the digestive tract are the result of taking milk that was a little sour.

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Since this doctrine of Metchnikoff's has come to be popularly known, fewer patients have insisted that they could not take milk in such quantities as the physician thought desirable for them. Before that, a persuasion with regard to the ease with which milk becomes contaminated with microbes, and the dread that it might thus be a source of disease, or at least of disturbance of digestion, made it very difficult of digestion for many people. Now that they have a good authority who insists that, even if it should become somewhat soured in the ordinary way, this, far from making it a pathological article of diet, rather adds to its value from a therapeutic standpoint, has changed the attitude of mind of these people.

We need a similar feeling with regard to eggs in order that they may be eaten by many people who now refuse them because they fear the possible evil results of taking even a slightly tainted egg. Our recent pure food investigations have shown that the bakers in our large cities have been for many years using canned eggs, and that these would be quite impossible of consumption except disguised as they are in the midst of baker's products. Sometimes these eggs have been kept for several months before being canned. All the cold storage eggs that cannot be disposed of otherwise are thus treated. In spite of the common use of these canned eggs by a large proportion of the city population no serious results have come from them. The change that comes over eggs in time does not apparently spoil their nutritive quality, but only disturbs their taste. The main element in the change is the production of hydrogen sulphide. This gas has a very unpleasing odor, but its presence is not of pathological significance. This gas is a common ingredient in those mineral waters that are known as sulphur waters, and that have a reputation for curing many forms of digestive disturbance, especially chronic cases of nervous indigestion. What is true of sour milk, then, would seem to be true of eggs that have been, to some degree, spoiled, and at least no serious results may be expected from them. If serious results were to be expected, we should have had many evil reports of them in recent years. Whether considerations of this kind will help patients, who need to get over qualminess with regard to eggs, because they are always suspicious lest they should not be fresh, will depend a good deal on the suggestive value of such information as presented by the physician.

Another Organic Acid.--Sauerkraut has shared the fate of sour milk, and because of its acid bacteria has been accepted by Metchnikoff as an ally. Yet sauerkraut used to be thought quite out of the question for invalids, especially those suffering from digestive disturbances. I recall the case of an old German shoemaker who had lived very much on sauerkraut when he was a young man and then, having made money in the manufacture of shoes, had not had much of it for thirty years, pleading with me, when he was old and it was rather hard to get anything to stay on his stomach, that he should be allowed to have sauerkraut. On the principle that what a man craves is usually what does him good, I allowed it. The physician with whom I was in consultation was perfectly sure there would be trouble, and the family were confident that his physicians evidently had given up all hope and were quite ready to yield to his caprices and let him take anything that he cared for. He not only took the sauerkraut without any trouble, though I must confess to some misgivings myself (for I am of those who unfortunately do not care for it and, therefore, {249} was prejudiced), but after having eaten a large plateful of sauerkraut twice a day for several days, he began to crave other things that would not stay down before, retained them well, digested them without difficulty, and got over that attack of indigestion and lived for several years afterwards. His own mental attitude was a better index than our supposed knowledge, though science has now come to confirm his state of mind.

Bacon and a Change in Suggestion,--Another food material with regard to which there has been a complete change of view in recent years, is bacon and hog products generally. Pork in all forms used to be considered quite indigestible, and was one of the first things that people suffering from indigestion--or the fear of it--eliminated from their diet. Now we know how valuable a food product it is, especially for those inclined to suffer from constipation, or who are under weight. Many people still look surprised when advised to eat it regularly. Here we have a typical example of the change in the mental attitude toward a particular article of food bringing about a corresponding difference as regards not only the appetite for it, but also its digestibility. Many persons, who used to have no appetite for breakfast, now find that after eating a crisp piece or two of bacon, they develop an appetite for other foods. Bacon has become a fetish for some people and is considered a help, not a detriment to digestion.

I recall a case in which I had very nearly the same experience with bacon as I related with regard to sauerkraut. The patient was an elderly woman, probably nearly ninety years of age, who, because of a crippling deformity, had not been able to get outside of the house for many years. She sat in a wheel chair, transported herself from one end of an apartment to another, spent most of her time by the window, but was very helpful in many little things about the house and occupied her hands with knitting and sewing. In spite of her condition, she was cheerful, pleasant, happy, and all her life had had a good digestion, her only trouble being a tendency to asthma as she grew old. I came back to the city after a summer vacation to find that she was not expected to live because nothing would stay on her stomach. She was sinking, and the end seemed not far off. I was asked to see her more because I had been her regular physician for some years, and it was thought that it would console her to see me than with any real hope of betterment. It had been extremely hot weather and this seemed to be an unfortunate circumstance. At my visit, I asked her if there was anything that she cared for. She shook her head and yet there seemed a hesitancy. I urged her to tell me if there was anything that she wanted, but only after considerable urging did she venture to say that there was something, only that she knew that she could not have it. Putting her thumb on the top of her little finger, she said, "Oh, I would like so much to have just a teenie-weenie bit of bacon." I said that she should certainly have it. Then taking courage, she asked if she could not have a little cabbage with it. I said, "Certainly." Her friends thought that it was just a yielding to one of the last wishes of an invalid with the idea that nothing could much harm her, since she was so near the end. She had eaten cabbage and bacon all her life; she ate it again with a relish, and in spite of the heat kept it down and digested it well. She had bacon and cabbage next day, and for several days; she gradually got strong and lived several more years of her happy contented life.

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II. INDIGESTION AND UNFAVORABLE STATES OF MIND

Indigestion is the characteristic disease of our time. There are few men or women over thirty who have not suffered from it. The working classes are spared the most, but with the frequent suggestions in the newspapers and the introspection which has become so common, indigestion is often complained of even among them. Sedentary occupations, involving mental work and little physical effort, seem especially to predispose to some form of indigestion. Few of those who live what is called the intellectual life escape suffering from some of its symptoms. Not infrequently men have been hale and hearty specimens of muscular manhood when they took up some profession which compels them to be indoors, yet before long, they begin to complain of discomfort after eating, of tendencies to constipation, of headaches, of depression, of incapacity for mental effort after meals, and all these symptoms are attributed to the almost universal disease, indigestion.

It is possible for the general attitude of mind to have a great effect on digestive processes, and the symptom-complex which is called indigestion, or dyspepsia, is probably much more dependent on the mind than on any other factor. In many cases it is primarily due to over-concentration of attention on digestion. In others it is due to over-occupation with business, worry, or serious thought at times when the digestive processes need all the energy. In many cases so-called dyspepsia is due to an unfavorable state of mind toward digestive processes in general, because of unfavorable auto-suggestion. Normally, stomachic sensations reach our consciousness only under special circumstances. When, however, much attention is paid to them, even the slight sensations that occur with normal digestion may rise above the threshold of consciousness and become subjects of solicitude. If they do so, then the increased attention likely to be paid to them surely interferes with function and changes what may be merely physiological into pathological processes.

Disease Suggestions.--An unfortunate state of the public mind with regard to indigestion in general has been cultivated by many publications on the subject. People dread its occurrence, and fear that the first sign of discomfort in their gastric region is a signal of the beginning of a progressive affection. They fear the worst, and the consequence is a reaction quite out of proportion to the gravity of the ailment. So much has been said particularly of mistakes in diet that just as soon as they feel, or often rather think they feel, the first symptom of beginning dyspepsia they begin to study how to modify their diet so as to prevent its progress. They begin to eliminate various supposedly indigestible foods. Usually among the first things that are greatly reduced in quantity, or are entirely eliminated, are the fats and certain of the starchy vegetables. Because of expressions heard and read as to its harmfulness, the fearful ones also are usually timorous about taking fluid at meal times. As this is about the only time when they are likely to take fluid, unless it be summer, they soon suffer for lack of it. Eating only food that {251} leaves little residue and taking insufficient fluid leads to constipation. This reacts still further to disturb digestion, and to interfere with appetite.

This leads to further reduction in the amount and variety of food, with the consequence that insufficient nutrition to supply energy for bodily needs is taken. The digestive system gives up to the body as much as it possibly can, not only of the food materials to be consumed, but of its own substance. Thus it weakens its own vitality, with a lessening of appetite and of digestive power. Hence, a vicious circle of change is instituted, the consequences of which are easy to see. After a time the patient is taking only the blandest foods, constipation has become an important element in the case, and the mind is constantly occupied with solicitude over the digestion and the choice of materials at meals.

Contrary Suggestion and Digestion.--Hudson, in "The Law of Mental Medicine," insisted on the necessity for not suggesting to children the possibility of indigestion of various substances, for that is almost sure to disturb digestive functions. Children sometimes hear the remark that father or mother cannot take a certain article of food because it disagrees with them. The imitative faculty of the child is sure to be aroused, with the consequence that this particular food is not eaten with relish nor given a fair show for digestion, and will be the source of some stomach disturbance. Not infrequently substances thus spoken of are among those that are especially likely to do children good, such as milk or eggs, or occasionally butter. The harm done by the remark may, therefore, even be serious, for these foods should constitute a large proportion of the child's diet. Indeed, an excellent prophylactic in the matter of indigestion is to prevent as far as possible all conversation at table about the indigestibility of food. Unfortunately, this has, in late years particularly, become a favorite subject of table conversation.

Transferred Feelings.--Professor Cohnheim called attention to the fact that many uncomfortable feelings are likely to be mistranslated because they are referred to organs with which there is nothing wrong. Whenever this function is hampered in any way, there are many uncomfortable feelings associated with the digestion of food. The custom has been to refer the origin of all these to the stomach. Cohnheim thinks that it is much more likely that they really originate in the intestines, though the rule has been to take the patient's feelings as an indication and to treat the stomach. It is not an unreasonable thing for patients to be deceived as to the exact location of discomfort. Even in so acute a process as toothache it is possible to mistake the particular tooth that is giving trouble, and, as dentists know, a perfectly quiescent tooth is sometimes blamed for pain that is coming from another. Fillings have been removed, teeth have been treated, good teeth have been extracted, because patients insisted on the significance of their feelings in such cases. The stomach must not always be blamed. Sometimes the only source of supposed gastric discomfort is the constipation present which is usually easy to relieve.

Gastric Reflexes.--While the mind may serve to disturb digestion and produce gastric discomfort by over-attention, there are many reflexes that center in the digestive tract, the origin of which may be in distant organs. Fright often produces a sensation as of cold at the pit of the stomach. Looking down from a height has the same effect in some persons. Discordant noises {252} have the same effect on people of sensitive hearing and certain reactions to touch may be similarly reflected. There are a number of affections which produce uncomfortable reflex sensations in the gastric region. This is the hypochondrium of the olden time. Whenever feelings were complained of, for which there was no actual basis in the hypochondriac region, it came to be spoken of as hypochondriasis, a word that has an innuendo of imaginativeness about it. Dr. Head's studies with regard to the transfer of sensations from one portion of the body to the other, show us that there is a good physical reason in reflexes for many of these complaints. An explanation of this to patients will often relieve their minds greatly and make their discomfort seem much less serious. Dr. Head said:

With orchitis or prostatitis, we also occasionally find that the patient complains of a pain at the epigastrium, representing the stomach area. This is put down to hypochondriasis and if it occurs in a woman as a consequence of ovaritis, she is said to be hysterical. But this phenomena is no more "hysterical," whatever that may mean, than is the reference of the pain and the tenderness of an aching tooth to the back of the head or the shoulder. [Transfers which have been observed actually to take place.]

This is the phenomenon I have been accustomed to call "generalization" of visceral pain and tenderness, and is of such common occurrence as to form a very important factor in the clinical picture of many diseases.

The order in which generalization takes place, leads one to speak of the relative "specific resistance" of the centers for the sensory impulses from various organs. No very definite rule can be laid down to govern every case, but each case must be considered on its merits. However, the area which appears most easily on a woman, as a secondary affection, is the tenth dorsal; then, perhaps the sixth dorsal, or inframammary, and then the various gastric areas, beginning first with the ensiform or seventh dorsal. In a man the tenth dorsal appears rather less readily while the ensiform appears with great ease.

Affections of other organs within the abdomen may produce like reflexes. A chronic appendicitis, for instance, will often be reflected in the stomach area. So will the presence of gallstones, or of disturbances of the biliary mucosa. Loose kidney often produces stomach reflexes. Any disturbance of the intestinal function will produce gastric irritation and inhibition of digestion. Most of the other primary conditions are more serious. Often the patient is aware of their existence, and it is a relief to him to find that the stomach symptoms are not the index of further pathological development, but only reflex conditions. This of itself does much to make the condition more bearable.

Patients who are suffering from symptoms of indigestion often have areas of their skin surface that are at least very sensitive, if not actually tender. They feel the pressure of their clothing over a particular portion of the body, usually on the left side of the abdomen somewhat above, though at times also below the umbilicus. Though not painful, as a rule, it is decidedly uncomfortable and produces a constant desire to loosen the clothing, or lift it from the part. Mere loosening, it is soon found, does no good, because the clothing continues to touch the skin and it is not the constriction or pressure but the contact that produces the discomfort. Sometimes there is a distinct lesion of the stomach. This cutaneous hyperasthesia may, indeed, rise to the height of extreme tenderness in cases of gastric ulcer, or the like. But there is no {253} doubt that a certain amount of this sensation is present with all functional disturbances of the stomach and that the reflex sensitiveness of superficial nerves is only what might be expected from what we now know of this subject.

Discomfort and Digestion.--Just as certain food materials disagree because of the state of mind, so certain feelings in the gastric region, even in the skin surface, sometimes disturb digestion and lead to changes of the diet unwarranted by the condition. Patients conclude that, if the skin is so tender, then the underlying organs, the disturbance of which causes this tenderness, must be in a serious condition. For these patients the explanation of the present state of our knowledge as to reflex disturbance of sensory nerves will be of therapeutic value. They must be taught that pain is reflected from one nerve branch to another, and is not communicated by continuity of tissue, or by sympathetic affection from the stomach mucous membrane through the stomach wall, and then from the abdominal wall to the skin surface. This knowledge will prove reassuring.

Division of Energy.--After this mental occupation with digestion itself, which by consuming nervous energy lessens the amount available for digestive purposes, probably the most common factor in the production of indigestion is the concentration of mind on serious subjects, while digestion is proceeding. An old English maxim is that some people have not enough brains to run their liver and their business. The liver in old-time pathology was considered the most important of the abdominal organs and was taken by metathesis for them all. Most of us have only a limited amount of vital energy and, usually, we can accomplish only one thing well at a time. If we try to do intellectual work while digestion is going on, both the intellectual work and the digestion suffer. If we persist in attempting to do both, we will surely disturb the digestive organs and we may bring about grave neurotic disturbances in the central nervous system. We may be able for a time to accomplish the two things at the same time, but it will not be long before evil results will be seen. Nervous, high-strung people should be reminded of Lincoln's anecdote of the little steamboat on the Mississippi which had not steam enough to blow its whistle and run its paddle wheels at the same time, so that whenever the engineer wanted to blow the whistle he stopped the boat.

Indeed, much of the indigestion that we see is due to this dissipation of energy through the attempt to do two things at the same time. Those who live the intellectual life are the most frequent sufferers. Worries and anxieties that are allowed to trouble the mind during digestion time are sure to disturb digestion eventually because they use up energy that is needed for physical purposes.

A change of environment that takes us away from the ordinary cares of life, is often sufficient to make all the difference between ease of digestion and extremely uncomfortable dyspepsia. By worry the mind apparently becomes short-circuited on itself and uses up a large amount of the available energy in nervous impulses that do not find their way outside the central nervous system at all, but are used in disturbing associated nerve cells. Just as soon as a change of scene and occupation calls for a different set of thoughts and other feelings, energy is released for work outside the central nervous system itself, digestion begins to improve, and in a comparatively short time what seemed to be a serious gastric disturbance, disappears almost completely.

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Lack of Sleep Repair.--In my own experience one of the most characteristic stigmata of these cases of indigestion which are due to exhaustion through other channels of vital energy, is that they feel much better in the evening than in the morning. They are, therefore, tempted to stay up late and so do not get the necessary rest. Their excuse for late hours is that they need recreation. To that excuse I have no objection. They do need more recreation; they need more hours during which their minds are absolutely free from business cares; but these hours must not be taken from their sleep, for they need rest even more than recreation.

Worries and Irritations During Meals.--The presence of worries or irritation during meals or shortly after, as well as unfavorable states of mind towards digestion itself, and occupation of mind with serious affairs during digestion, are likely to be sources of serious disturbance of digestion. A fright, a fit of anger, nagging, irritation, or any disturbing emotions, may hamper digestion. An experiment that is sometimes performed in the physiological laboratory on the cat nicely illustrates this. If the laboratory cat is fed some dainty that it likes, mixed with bismuth in order that its stomach and intestines may be made opaque to the x-rays, and then be examined by means of the fluoroscope, the peristaltic processes of digestion by which food is mixed in the stomach, passed out into the intestines, and by which intestinal digestion is stimulated, may be seen to go on very interestingly. If, now, the cat is made to arch its back, and manifest the usual signs of extreme irritation, the process of digestion is interrupted, and will not be resumed till some time after the cat quiets down. The lesson is obvious.

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III. PSYCHIC TREATMENT OF DIGESTIVE CONDITIONS

If discouragement and solicitude make a healthy stomach digest imperfectly, the same mental factors will play an even more serious role with a diseased stomach. Certainly without the mind's aid, there can be little hope of such a reactive vital resistance as will enable the organ to recover from the organic ailment.

So many cases of indigestion are due to mental persuasion alone, that after a time there is danger that the physician may be over-confident in his diagnosis, and may occasionally overlook serious organic lesions. Before attempting psychotherapy in these cases, the physician must assure himself that no organic lesion is present. This is particularly true for cancer in the middle-aged and ulcer in young women. At times these lesions are latent except for certain vague digestive symptoms. After careful consideration it is generally possible to make a definite decision, and then the indications are clear. Even when an organic lesion is present, a modification of the mental attitude will often be of great service to the patient. Suggestion will even make a cancer patient gain in weight, though one must be careful of that very fact because the apparent improvement may occasion delay until the case becomes inoperable.

Once the presence of these serious organic lesions of the stomach can be {255} excluded, the bringing of influence to bear on the patient's mind for the improvement of his digestion is indicated. It is true that there are certain reflex disturbances of the digestive tract consequent upon affections of other abdominal organs. Chronic lesions of the appendix may produce stomach symptoms as will also pathological conditions of the biliary tract. A floating kidney, various affections of the pelvic organs, especially in women, and of the urinary organs in men are sometimes said to produce seriously depressing effects upon the stomach. Where this occurs, the first indications undoubtedly are to put the patient into as good condition as possible before making any decision. Where a lesion of the stomach itself exists suggestions with regard to the increase of diet may do harm. They will not do harm in the reflex conditions, and so patients can be brought into better physical condition. As a consequence of this, their symptoms in other organs will often disappear. In case the symptoms do not disappear the patients are in better condition to stand and react from operative intervention.

Before concluding as to the character of the stomach symptoms we must make sure that other important organs are not affected. Most cases of tuberculosis begin with stomach symptoms, which often make their appearance before there is cough or any definite localizing symptom of the disease. Often there is only a disturbance of pulse, and perhaps a slightly increased range of temperature. If the patient has been exposed to tuberculosis, a careful investigation of the lungs should be made. Any disturbance of the liver or pancreas (especially cancer) will almost surely give rise to stomach symptoms. Latent cancer in any part of the body, however, will, by its depressing toxemia, produce loss of appetite, consequent loss of weight, and a number of symptoms that are sure to be referred to the stomach. I have seen cancer of the prostate, without disturbing urination, produce such symptoms for months before it was recognized. I have seen cancer of the rectum in a comparatively young woman treated as piles, without an examination, the development of the piles being attributed to the gastro-intestinal symptoms which were consequent upon the presence of the cancer.

MENTAL INFLUENCE IN DYSPEPSIA AND INDIGESTION

It is often said that this teaching as to the effect of the mind on digestion and its eminent usefulness for the treatment of dyspeptic conditions, is due to the attention that has been attracted to this subject as a consequence of the prominence of Eddyism, New Thought, Mental Healing, and the like. There are absolutely no good grounds for any such assertion. Here in America, more than twenty-five years ago, before there was any question of the modern mental healing movements, our greatest medical clinician, Dr. Austin Flint, expressed himself very emphatically with regard to mental influence over digestion, and to solicitude of mind as one of the most frequent etiological factors in dyspepsia.

Dr. Flint was thoroughly scientific in his medical observations, was no seeker after notoriety, and he was reading his paper before the older physicians of the period, and all of those who took part in that first meeting of the New York Medical Association strove to make their papers of scientific value. His words, then, must carry great weight:

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Dyspepsia formerly prevailed chiefly among those who adopted, to a greater or less extent, the foregoing maxims [the finicky rules of dyspeptics which he deprecates and corrects as quoted later in this chapter]. It was comparatively rare among those who did not live in accordance with dietetic rules. The affection is much less prevalent now than heretofore, because these maxims are much less in vogue. The dyspeptics of the present day are chiefly those who undertake to exemplify more or less of these maxims. It seems to me, therefore, a fair inference, that dyspepsia may result from an attempt to regulate diet by rules which have for their object the prevention of the affection which they actually produce. It is to be added that an important causative element involved in the practical adoption of these rules is the attention thereby given to digestion. It is by introspection and constant watchfulness of the functions of the stomach, that the mind exerts a direct influence in the causation of this affection.

Dietetic Rules of a Former Day.--In order to make definite just what were the views of the olden times which he deprecates, he stated them briefly and forcibly:

The views generally entertained, at the time to which I have referred, largely by physicians and almost universally by non-medical sanitarians, may be summed up in a few maxims as follows: Eat only at stated periods, twice or thrice daily, and never between meals, no matter how great may be the desire for food. Never eat late in the evening or shortly before bedtime. In the choice of articles of diet, carefully select those which reason and personal experience have shown to be best digested; and never yield to the weakness of eating any article of food simply because it is acceptable to the palate. In order to avoid the temptation of overeating, let the articles of food be coarse rather than attractive, and eschew all the devices of the cuisine. Always leave the table hungry. Study personal idiosyncrasies, and never indulge in kinds of food which, although wholesome for most persons, are injurious to a few who are peculiarly organized. With reference to this last maxim, bear in mind that "what is one man's meat is another man's poison." In order to secure, as effectually as possible, a proper restriction in the quantity of food, it was recommended by some physicians and to some extent practiced, that every article be carefully weighed at meal times, and that a certain quantity by weight be never exceeded. Vegetarianism or Grahamism was advocated and practiced by many. Total abstinence from drink was considered by a few as a good sanitary measure, compelling the body to derive the needed fluids exclusively from fruits, vegetables, and other solid articles of diet. Restriction in the amount of drink, as far as practicable with regard to the power of endurance, was very generally deemed important, so as not to dilute the gastric juice.

When to his question, "Do you regulate your diet," the patient answered promptly and often emphatically in the affirmative, Dr. Flint insisted always: "This is a good reason for your having dyspepsia; I never knew a dyspeptic get well who undertook to regulate his diet." When the patient asks then, "How am I to be guided," the reply is, "Not by theoretical views of alimentation and indigestion, no matter how much they appear to be in accord with physiological and pathological doctrines, but by the appetite, the palate and common sense." He then goes on to answer certain other objections that patients are wont to urge, and says:

But the patient will be likely to say, "Am I not to be guided by my own experience and avoid articles of food which I have found to disagree with my digestion?" The answer is, that personal experience in dietetics is extremely fallacious. An article of diet which may cause inconvenience of indigestion to-day may be followed by a sense of comfort and will be readily digested to-morrow. A variety of circumstances may render the digestion of any article of food taken at a {257} particular meal labored or imperfect. As a rule articles which agree with most persons do not disagree with any, except from casual or accidental circumstances, and from the expectation, in the mind of the patient, that they will disagree. Without denying that there are dietetic idiosyncrasies, they are vastly fewer than is generally supposed; and, in general, it is fair to regard supposed idiosyncrasies as purely fanciful. Patients not infrequently cherish supposed idiosyncrasies with gratification. The idea is gratifying to egotism, as evidence that Providence has distinguished them from the common herd by certain peculiarities of constitution.

Dietetic Instructions.--Finally Dr. Flint has a series of instructions for those suffering from indigestion:

Do not adopt the rule of eating only at stated periods, twice or thrice daily. Be governed in this respect by appetite; and eat whenever there is a desire for food. Eat in the evenings or at bedtime, if food be desired. Insomnia is often attributable to hunger [italics ours]. In the choice of articles of diet, be distrustful of past personal experience, and consider it to be a trustworthy rule that those articles will be most likely to be digested without inconvenience which are most acceptable to the palate. As far as practicable, let the articles of diet be made acceptable by good cooking. As a rule, the better articles of food are cooked, the greater the comfort during digestion. Never leave the table with an unsatisfied appetite. Be in no haste to suppose that you are separated from the rest of mankind by dietetic idiosyncrasies, and be distrustful of the dogma that another man's meat is a poison to you. Do not undertake to estimate the amount of food which you take. In this respect different persons differ very widely, and there is no fixed standard of quantity, which is not to be exceeded. Take animal and vegetable articles of diet in relative proportions as indicated by instinct. In the quantity of drink, follow nature's indication; namely, thirst. Experience shows abundantly that, with a view of comfortable digestion, there need be no restriction in the ingestion of liquids.

Removal of Solicitude as a Remedial Measure.--Many dyspeptics have no subject that they occupy themselves with more seriously than their digestion, and they thus divert blood needed for digestive purposes as well as nervous energy that would help in it from the stomach to the brain, in order to exercise surveillance over the process. As has been well said, "Probably much more than half of the indigestion is really above the neck." This does not mean that there are not cases that need definite stomachic treatment, or even that patients who have succeeded in functionally disturbing their digestion by thinking over much about it, will not need gastric remedies.

The explanation of the many fads and remedies that cure indigestion, real or supposed, is exactly this tendency of the suggestive influence of such remedial measures to lessen the patient's solicitude about digestion. Any change in diet that carries with it the persuasion that for any reason digestion ought to be better, will, because of this, make digestion better. Any habit of taking warm or cold water before meals, or of chewing in a particular way, or of taking a particular kind of food different from what is usually taken--exclusively cereal, uncooked, largely fruit, vegetarian, etc.--will lift the concentration of attention on the digestive process, and so give the stomach a chance to do its work without interference from the brain.

Du Bois has quoted some striking testimony in this matter from Baras, who wrote on the "Gastralgias and Nervous Affections of the Stomach and the Intestines" as early as 1820. Baras had himself been a sufferer from {258} gastric discomfort, fullness after eating, eructations of gas, constipation, and general depression. He consulted most of the distinguished medical practitioners of his time. With one exception they were convinced that he was a sufferer from chronic gastro-enteritis. They added more and more to his concern about his stomach, and furnished him with numerous sources of autosuggestion. In spite of all that they did for him, his condition grew worse and worse, he lost in weight, and was sure that his case was hopeless. He was cured in a single day. His daughter was attacked with consumption, and "in the moment my attention," says Baras, "was centered entirely upon my child, I thought no more of myself, and I was cured."

Brain Workers and Indigestion.--Perhaps the best proof of how necessary it is that people should not continue to occupy their intellect seriously during the time when digestion is going on, is to be found in the frequency with which complaints of indigestion occur in literary folk. The complaints are heard most from literary folk because they are more likely to tell their stories. They have their work, and thoughts of it, always with them. So there is a constant call for nervous and mental activity and for much blood in the brain tissues. This subtracts from the nervous energy necessary for digestion, and makes it impossible to conduct it with that perfection which comes naturally to people who banish all other thoughts and keep their minds free for the pleasures of the table and social intercourse at meal time.

Nervous indigestion is so common among literary folk, teachers and scientific workers, that various causes have been suggested for it. Dr. George Gould, in his "Biographic Clinics," calls attention to it and suggests that the cause is probably the need of properly fitted spectacles. In our own time, when we are much more careful in the matter of eyeglasses, and when most writers and professors wear scientifically adapted glasses, the complaints still continue. The reason is evidently something associated with the almost continuous work that they do. Such people, too, are much more self-conscious than others. They think more about their digestion and what they eat. They often think that they differ from other people and have special idiosyncrasies for food. These thoughts are sure to culminate in nervous indigestion.

Food Faddists.--Literary folk and people who live the intellectual life are very prone to take up with fads of various kinds and find surcease from their sorrows in all sorts of out of the way dietaries, modes of eating, food limitations and specializations. They constitute a majority of the food faddists. Some of them--sure that they should not eat meat--are strenuous vegetarians. Others confine themselves entirely to food the life of which has not been completely destroyed by cooking. They are fruit faddists, nut faddists, milk-product faddists, and the like. Some of them try to persuade the world that it eats too much; others that it eats too frequently. Some of them take but a single real meal a day and have apologies for the other meals. All want to lead people to their particular mode of life, as if all the world had been wrong until they came to set it right. Some want the rest of the world to chew seventy-times-seven before they swallow and to adopt other exaggerations of attention to eating that are quite contrary to instinct, the most precious guide that we have in the matter of food choice and food consumption.

These intellectuals are always improved by their fads, no matter what they {259} may be. The reason is apparent. Their original digestive disturbance was due to over-occupation with intellectual work. Then they began to worry about their digestion and feared that nearly everything they ate would disagree with them. This fear and solicitude still further interfered with digestion. Next they acquired the new fad. They became persuaded that they could eat certain things in certain ways. They no longer disturb their digestion by anxiety about it, but, on the contrary, help it by favorable suggestion. Now under the new regime everything will surely go on well. Besides, they usually learn the lesson of not doing intellectual work close to their meals, and of spacing their work better. They learn to do a daily stint of work and no more. One of the fads that goes with most food fashions is abundant outdoor air. This always does good. Between the favorable mental influence, the lessened work, especially just after meals, and the increased outdoor air they get better and then they attribute it all to their special fad about food. The "cure" is due to psychotherapy and common sense, and not in any way to the special fad.

Worry.--Worry of any kind will have the same effect as the over-attention of the literary man or teacher to his work. Anyone who brings his business home with him is likely to suffer and, unless he has a superabundant supply of energy, will impair his digestive function as a consequence of attempting to do business after dinner, perhaps also stealing some of it in before and during breakfast.

PREVENTION AND CORRECTION

The important rule with regard to the mental attitude of the patient toward uncomfortable feelings due to digestion must be, first to correct all other possible sources of the trouble, and only after these have been proved not to be factors in the case, should there be any question of modification of diet. This is just the opposite rule from that which obtains, and by which patients begin to meddle with their diet at the slightest symptom, or supposed symptom, of indigestion. My custom is to tell patients at once that there is probably something else besides their diet at fault. It is not that they eat too much, nor too great a variety, but that perhaps they eat too rapidly. Without reducing their diet, and above all without eliminating supposedly indigestible things from it, there should be formed a habit of eating more slowly. This will usually result in the reduction of the quantity eaten, but the variety of food should be the same, and the patient should not be permitted to limit his diet to a few supposedly bland, unirritating materials. In that event, constipation will assert itself, particularly if there is limitation of the amount of fluid taken.

Longevity of Dyspeptics.--There is one consolation that may be given to nervous dyspeptics, though in the midst of their worst symptoms they may not be sure whether it is a genuine consolation or not. It has been noted that many of those who live to extreme age tell the story of having suffered from nervous dyspepsia in middle-life. Their solicitude about themselves makes them safe against over-indulgences of many kinds in food or drink that might prove hurtful to them. Much of their discomfort is indeed due to the fact that they do not eat quite enough. If they succeed in avoiding the {260} pitfalls of the infectious diseases, and especially tuberculosis during their earlier years, and most of them are likely to because of the great care they take of themselves, they often live to old age. Certainly of two men, one of whom eats very heartily and the other very sparingly, the latter is much the more likely to attain old age. There are those who declare that the valetudinarian life, "half dead and alive," which even Plato satirized nearly 2,500 years ago, ever renews the question as to whether life is worth living or not. It is particularly dyspeptics who seriously discuss this question--yet with all their complaints, they actually do live longer lives.

Pharmaceutic Remedies.--This insistence on the importance of mind in the treatment of indigestion does not imply that tonic remedies, and especially such substances as strychnin, which stimulate appetite and add tone to the muscles of the stomach, should not be used when duly indicated. They are always helpful. Alone, these remedies give but temporary relief and after a short time the system becomes accustomed to them. If prescribed in connection with changes in the patient's habits, and especially such as divert his attention from his digestive tract, and from wrong persuasions as to food taking, the good they accomplish will be lasting. Nervous people usually have an increase of acidity. They are liable to overdo everything, and even the stomach overdoes its acid forming function. For this, alkaline remedies such as rhubarb and soda will do good. But, just as with strychnin, the benefit is but temporary unless the patient's habits and attitude of mind are modified so as to eliminate their solicitude as a constantly disturbing factor.

Circumstantial Suggestions.--There are many changes of habits that are of great value in the treatment of nervous and allied forms of indigestion. These changes often make a great difference in the general health of the patient and thus help to improve digestion. Besides their influence as alteratives, they are valuable from the mental influence which they exercise. It requires a definite exertion of will many times, perhaps, each day to bring about the omission or performance of certain actions, and this act of the will is accompanied by the repeated suggestion that this will cause improvement in the digestion. Many of the cures effected by special diet. Habits of exercise, health resort regimes and the like, owe their efficacy to this accompanying repeated suggestion of acts for the formation of new habits or the breaking of old ones.

Physiological Measures.--There are, of course, certain details with regard to digestion in which the patient's mental attitude needs to be changed by instruction rather than persuasion, by knowledge of physiology rather than by psychology. In the taking of food itself, chewing is, of course, the most important consideration after its good preparation by the cook. If patients are told to chew their food carefully, however, without further directions than this, it will usually be found that they begin to chew their meat a great deal and their vegetables scarcely more than before. It is, however, vegetables that must be chewed particularly. The meat-eating animals bolt their food. They have only cutting and tearing teeth. Their instinct is correct, for the saliva has nothing to do with the digestion of meat, and therefore no chewing is necessary. On the other hand, the vegetable-eating, and especially the grain-eating animals, chew carefully. Most of them are ruminants, that is, after a preliminary thorough chewing of their food, they swallow it, and then {261} afterwards at their leisure bring it up once more into the mouth and chew it again.

Mastication and the Stomach.--If food is not chewed well, and occurs in large masses in the stomach, not only is it not dissolved easily, but the work of passing it out to the intestine is delayed. The reflex which brings about the opening of the stomach and the ejection of food into the intestine is best brought about by the liquefaction of the stomach contents. During the mixing process all the food, as far as possible, becomes fluid and then is passed on. Large pieces of any kind are delayed, however, hamper the emptying of the stomach and interfere with stomach motility. The stomach is only a thin-walled membranous viscus which finds difficulty in dealing with food in lumps. It is different from the stomach of the hen, which, having no teeth, swallows grains of all kinds without chewing, but also by instinct swallows small stones which, in its thick-walled, muscular gizzard, are used for grinding up the food.

Exercise.--The taking of exercise is an important habit that needs to be changed in the case of dyspeptics. Many of those who live a sedentary life, and are much occupied with intellectual or business matters, are almost sure to take little or no exercise. If earlier in life they were accustomed to take much, the lack of it leads to serious disturbances of nutrition. They have formed certain habits as to the amount of food they eat, and these continue, so that they consume more heat-making material than they can use. In the process of dissipating it, there is likely to be much nervous energy wasted, usually to the discomfort of the patient. This is likely to be eventually reflected back to the stomach, with disturbance of appetite and digestion.

We now know that the motor function of the stomach is much more important than its secretory function. Its main purpose is to mix the food and pass it on in small quantities, at intervals, to the intestines. When patients have a sense of uncomfortable fullness in the gastric region after a hearty meal, or of discomfort after the taking of food, especially if much liquid is taken with it, they are prone to attribute these feelings to imperfect secretion not completing digestion as it should, and permitting fermentation with a production of gas and consequent stomach distention. The real reason for their discomfort is not secretory, but motor. It is due to a delay in passing on the food and to stomach distention because the gastric muscle is not in good tone.

People who have been used to taking exercises have their muscular system in good tonic condition. This includes the involuntary muscles, as well as the voluntary, and if they are neglecting air and exercise, the whole muscular system becomes flabby. Hence the uncomfortable sense of distention, because the stomach walls do not contract readily for the expulsion of food. A second important factor is also present--the muscles of the abdomen. Ordinarily they support the abdominal organs without any sense of effort. If by lack of exercise they have diminished in tone, however, when a hearty meal is eaten, the abdominal muscles have to support this additional weight since the stomach itself sags, and the consequence is a feeling of pressure on the left side of the abdomen about the level of the umbilicus. To relieve this feeling the tendency of the patient is almost always to lessen the amount eaten. If he is not distinctly overweight this will do harm rather than good. Instead he {262} needs to take sufficient exercise to tone abdominal muscles and reflexly also tone even involuntary muscles, and with them the gastric muscularis.

Air.--Almost more important than exercise is an abundance of fresh air, and without this muscles soon fail to respond to voluntary or involuntary impulses. If people do not spend two or three hours in the air every day, they are likely to develop an over-sensitive condition in which all nervous sensations are exaggerated. The reason men and women differ so markedly in their reaction to pains, aches and discomforts, is mainly that their habits of being out in the air differ correspondingly. Men are out much and, as a rule, stand discomfort better. Women are out little and are more sensitive to pains and aches. The more a man is out, the less is he likely to notice discomforts and aches that he would otherwise complain about.

Sleep.--Another important factor is the amount of sleep. Over and over again I have found that patients who were beginning to complain of discomfort, which they associated with the word indigestion, were taking too little sleep, and as soon as I persuaded them to add an hour or more to their sleep their gastric symptoms began to improve. It is easy in our large cities to acquire the habit of shortening the hours of rest. This is sometimes done so gradually that the individual scarcely realizes how much he has cut into his sleeping period. Some people who have to get up at seven or half-past seven in the morning go to bed about twelve, but really do not get settled for sleep until nearly one o'clock. Sometimes people read interesting books just before going to bed, or while in bed, and it is nearly two o'clock when they get to sleep.

Many people have the habit of reading themselves to sleep. This may be an excellent way to get rid of bothersome thoughts, provided the reading selected is not of too absorbing a character, and provided also as soon as sleepiness comes its call is heeded. Some write letters late at night. Writing always keeps one awake, though reading may be helpful for sleep. If this abbreviation of sleep becomes habitual, the first organs in the body to set up an objection is the digestive tract. It is one of the hardest worked systems in the body, having to dispose of its quantum of food three times every day, and if the organism does not receive due rest, the digestive tract suffers first. People who get insufficient sleep often have no appetite in the morning, and suffer from uncomfortable feelings in the gastric region. What they are too prone to do is to meddle with their diet, and this practice always does harm.

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