From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome
I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight
ailment. I got down the book and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthinking moment, I idly
turned the leaves and began to study diseases, generally. I forgot which was the first, and before I
had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms", I was sure that I had got it.
I sat for a while frozen with horror; and then in despair Г again turned over the pages. I came
to typhoid fever — read the symptoms — discovered that I had typhoid fever— began to get
interested in my case, and so started alphabetically.
Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have been bom with. I
looked through the twenty-six letters, and the only disease I had not got was housemaid's knee.
I sat and thought what an interesting case I must be from a medical point of view. Students
would have no need to "walk the hospitals" if they had me. I was a hospital in myself. All they need
do would be to walk round me, and, after that, take their diploma.
Then I wondered how long I had to live. I tried to examine myself. I felt my pulse. I could
not at first feel any pulse at all. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed to start off. I pulled out my watch
and timed it. I made it a hundred and forty-seven to the minute. I tried to feel my heart. I could not
feel my heart. It had stopped beating. I patted myself all over my front, from what I call my waist up
to my head but I could not feel or hear anything. I tried to look at my tongue. I stuck it out as.far as
ever it would go, and I shut one eye and tried to examine it with the other. I could only see the tip,
but I felt more certain than before that I had scarlet fever.
I had walked into the reading-room a happy, healthy man. I crawled out a miserable wreck.
I went to my medical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse, and looks at my
tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing, when I fancy I'm ill. So I went straight up and
saw him, and he said:
"Well, what's the matter with you?"
I said:
"I will not take up your time, dear boy, with telling you what is the matter with me. Life is
short and you might pass away before I had finished. But 1 will tell you what is not the matter with
me. Everything else, however, I have got."
And I told him how I came to discover it all,
Then he opened me and looked down me, and took hold of my wrist, and then he hit me over
the chest when I wasn't expecting it — a cowardly thing to do, I call it After that, he sat down and