Anatomy of an Illness as Perceived by the Patient by Norman Cousins Read Free Book Online

assorted complaints that the witch doctor was able to diagnose readily were given special herbs to make into brews. Dr. Schweitzer guessed that most of those patients would improve very rapidly since they had only functional, rather than organic, disturbances. Therefore, the “medications” were not really a major factor. The second group had psychogenic ailments that were being treated with African psychotherapy. The third group had more substantial physical problems, such as massive hernias or extrauterine pregnancies or dislocated shoulders or tumorous conditions. Many of these problems required surgery, and the witch doctor was redirecting the patients to Dr. Schweitzer himself.
    â€œSome of my steadiest customers are referred to me by witch doctors,” Dr. Schweitzer said with only the slightest trace of a smile. “Don’t expect me to be too critical of them.”
    When I asked Dr. Schweitzer how he accounted for the fact that anyone could possibly expect to become well after having been treated by a witch doctor, he said that I was asking him to divulge a secret that doctors have carried around inside them ever since Hippocrates.
    â€œBut I’ll tell you anyway,” he said, his face still illuminated by that half-smile. “The witch doctor succeeds for the same reason all the rest of us succeed. Each patient carries his own doctor inside him. They come to us not knowing that truth. We are at our best when we give the doctor who resides within each patient a chance to go to work.”
    The placebo is the doctor who resides within.

THREE
    C REATIVITY AND L ONGEVITY
    What started me thinking about creativity and longevity, and the connection between the two, were examples of two men who were very much alike in vital respects: Pablo Casals and Albert Schweitzer.
    Both were octogenarians when I met them for the first time. Both were fully creative—almost explosively so. Both were committed to personal undertakings that were of value to other human beings. What I learned from these two men had a profound effect on my life—especially during the period of my illness. I learned that a highly developed purpose and the will to live are among the prime raw materials of human existence. I became convinced that these materials may well represent the most potent force within human reach.
    First, some observations about Pablo Casals.
    I met him for the first time at his home in Puerto Rico just a few weeks before his ninetieth birthday. I was fascinated by his daily routine. About 8 A.M. his lovely young wife Marta would help him to start the day. His various infirmities made it difficult for him to dress himself. Judging from his difficulty in walking and from the way he held his arms, I guessed he was suffering from rheumatoid arthritis. His emphysema was evident in his labored breathing. He came into the living room on Marta’s arm. He was badly stooped. His head was pitched forward and he walked with a shuffle. His hands were swollen and his fingers were clenched.
    Even before going to the breakfast table, Don Pablo went to the piano—which, I learned, was a daily ritual. He arranged himself with some difficulty on the piano bench, then with discernible effort raised his swollen and clenched fingers above the keyboard.
    I was not prepared for the miracle that was about to happen. The fingers slowly unlocked and reached toward the keys like the buds of a plant toward the sunlight. His back straightened. He seemed to breathe more freely. Now his fingers settled on the keys. Then came the opening bars of Bach’s Wobltemperierte Klavier , played with great sensitivity and control. I had forgotten that Don Pablo had achieved proficiency on several musical instruments before he took up the cello. He hummed as he played, then said that Bach spoke to him here—and he placed his hand over his heart.
    Then he plunged into a Brahms concerto and his fingers, now agile and powerful,