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nonsense! Why, there is nothing wrong with
their appendices, I ought to know, I who have
to examine them twice a week. I am dead against
it!”
It soon became evident that appendicitis was
on its last legs, and that a new complaint had to
be discovered to meet the general demand. The
Faculty was up to the mark, a new disease was
dumped on the market, a new word was coined,
a gold coin indeed, COLITIS! It was a neat
complaint, safe from the surgeon’s knife, always
at hand when wanted, suitable to everybody’s
taste. Nobody knew when it came, nobody knew
when it went away. I knew that several of
my far-sighted colleagues had already tried it on
their patients with great success, but so far my
luck had been against me.[1]
One of my last cases of appendicitis was, I
think, the Countess who came to consult me,
on the recommendation of Charcot, as she said.
He used to send me patients now and then and
I was of course most anxious to do my very best
for her, even had she not been as pretty as she
was. She looked at the young oracle with
ill-concealed disappointment in her large, languid
eyes and said she wished to speak to “Monsieur
le Docteur lui-même” and not to his assistant, a
first greeting I was accustomed to from a new
patient. At first she did not know if she had
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