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alleabelle · 4 years

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Cancer, Cocaine, and Courage

Beckhard, Arthur J. Cancer, Cocaine and Courage: The Story of Dr. William Halsted. Hauraki Publishing.

We never solve our problems by trying to run away from them. If we stay and face them, we can almost always lick them. Remember that.

You’ll find there’s nothing in the whole world any more exciting than being part of a team.

“Perhaps now you’ll understand. Being at everyone’s beck and call—always available to serve or to relieve someone’s pain—that is a doctor’s life.”

Will had played hard; he had done his best because that was the way he liked to do things, not with any thought of glory.

It said that anatomy is a study of the structure of the body before life is put into it. This was much like an architect’s view of a beautiful but empty house, Will thought, before it is animated by the joyous vitality of living persons.

He steeped himself in everything that had to do with medicine.

It was not at all like any of Yale’s ivy-covered buildings, steeped in tradition, but it had a quality of efficient reality that Will liked. It was here that he was going to work out his dream.

The strain was great, even for Will, and he was forced to give it up for a month or two. He went to Block Island, where he relaxed in solitude—devoting regular but much shorter hours to study. By early autumn he was quite himself again, and went back to New York eager to face the Bellevue examination.

Anyone who wants to pass as much as you do can’t fail.

He had graduated with honors; he had won a special prize; but he knew this was only the beginning. He wanted to prove to his father and to his old teachers and classmates at Yale that he could be a success in something besides athletics.

Much of the work was routine; much of it was a challenge; but whichever it was, Will achieved a reputation for doing it well. It was almost as though he were an athlete training conscientiously for a game.

He matched the raw edges as an expert tailor would match the sides of a torn piece of material—the tissues must be restored to their original condition.

Four hundred and fifty years before Christ a great Greek physician named Hippocrates had insisted that doctors must suppress all personal feelings.

These young surgeons soon caught Will’s enthusiasm. They admired his skill and his perseverance in the face of persistent criticism from many doctors. His painstaking care in the handling of tissues was something that none of them had ever before witnessed. The emphasis was no longer on speed in an operation. Will insisted on deliberate perfection in every move. His reputation as a teacher spread and places in his classes were eagerly sought.

The possibilities in surgery for him seemed limitless. He smiled at the thought that he was barely thirty-two years old, and the letter in his hand held an offer of recognition by a foreign surgical group at the request of one of the greatest of European surgeons.

“A name!” Will exclaimed. “Who cares about a name? You can’t eat it. A name never helped a man to sleep better. I’ve discovered that the most effective sedative in the world is the knowledge that you’re saving lives.”

“You’ve had it kinda tough lately, matey,” he said sympathetically, “but just keep your head into the wind and don’t fall off too much, and you’ll find a lee shore before you know it.” Will smiled in spite of his feelings. He had never heard his troubles put just that way, and he liked it.

Pandora had let everything escape except hope.

Naturally shy, Will had developed a rather abrupt attitude when meeting people. It was as though he wanted to size them up before giving anything of himself. It was not rudeness; perhaps it was more like a careful doctor’s hesitation about giving a hasty diagnosis.

Will was quite used to having strangers compliment him. They generally wanted some favor, and Will had learned to disregard them.

He accepted [the honorary degrees] gracefully but, true to his nature, modestly. “Where would I be without all these men who have encouraged me?”

He remembered so well the night in Halle when Von Volkmann quoted Wordsworth, and then said, “You have ambition. Never let it go.”

He envied him the opportunity for immediate help to suffering men.

With Caroline’s help Will organized volunteers who made over a million sterile dressings. If he couldn’t be there, he told himself, he could at least use his knowledge and skill to help.

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