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〃Men die of the diseases which they have studied most；〃 remarked
the surgeon； snipping off the end of a cigar with all his professional
neatness and finish。 〃It's as if the morbid condition was an evil creature
which； when it found itself closely hunted； flew at the throat of its pursuer。
If you worry the microbes too much they may worry you。 I've seen cases
of it； and not necessarily in microbic diseases either。 There was； of
course； the well…known instance of Liston and the aneurism； and a dozen
others that I could mention。 You couldn't have a clearer case than that of
poor old Walker of St。 Christopher's。 Not heard of it？ Well； of course；
it was a little before your time； but I wonder that it should have been
forgotten。 You youngsters are so busy in keeping up to the day that you
lose a good deal that is interesting of yesterday。
〃Walker was one of the best men in Europe on nervous disease。 You
must have read his little book on sclerosis of the posterior columns。 It's
as interesting as a novel； and epoch…making in its way。 He worked like a
horse； did Walkerhuge consulting practicehours a day in the clinical
wardsconstant original investigations。 And then he enjoyed himself
also。 ‘De mortuis；' of course； but still it's an open secret among all who
knew him。 If he died at forty…five； he crammed eighty years into it。
The marvel was that he could have held on so long at the pace at which he
was going。 But he took it beautifully when it came。
〃I was his clinical assistant at the time。 Walker was lecturing on
locomotor ataxia to a wardful of youngsters。 He was explaining that one
of the early signs of the complaint was that the patient could not put his
heels together with his eyes shut without staggering。 As he spoke； he
suited the action to the word。 I don't suppose the boys noticed anything。
I did； and so did he； though he finished his lecture without a sign。
〃When it was over he came into my room and lit a cigarette。
〃‘Just run over my reflexes； Smith；' said he。
〃There was hardly a trace of them left。 I tapped away at his knee…
tendon and might as well have tried to get a jerk out of that sofa…cushion。
He stood with his eyes shut again； and he swayed like a bush in the wind。
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〃‘So；' said he； ‘it was not intercostal neuralgia after all。'
〃Then I knew that he had had the lightning pains； and that the case was
complete。 There was nothing to say； so I sat looking at him while he
puffed and puffed at his cigarette。 Here he was； a man in the prime of
life； one of the handsomest men in London； with money； fame； social
success； everything at his feet； and now； without a moment's warning； he
was told that inevitable death lay before him； a death accompanied by
more refined and lingering tortures than if he were bound upon a Red
Indian stake。 He sat in the middle of the blue cigarette cloud with his
eyes cast down； and the slightest little tightening of his lips。 Then he
rose with a motion of his arms； as one who throws off old thoughts and
enters upon a new course。
〃‘Better put this thing straight at once；' said he。 ‘I must make some
fresh arrangements。 May I use your paper and envelopes？'
〃He settled himself at my desk and he wrote half a dozen letters。 It is
not a breach of confidence to say that they were not addressed to his
professional brothers。 Walker was a single man； which means that he
was not restricted to a single woman。 When he had finished； he walked
out of that little room of mine； leaving every hope and ambition of his life
behind him。 And he might have had another year of ignorance and peace
if it had not been for the chance illustration in his lecture。
〃It took five years to kill him； and he stood it well。 If he had ever
been a little irregular he atoned for it in that long martyrdom。 He kept an
admirable record of his own symptoms； and worked out the eye changes
more fully than has ever been done。 When the ptosis got very bad he
would hold his eyelid up with one hand while he wrote。 Then； when he
could not co…ordinate his muscles to write； he dictated to his nurse。 So
died； in the odour of science； James Walker； aet。 45。
〃Poor old Walker was very fond of experimental surgery； and he broke
ground in several directions。 Between ourselves； there may have been
some more ground…breaking afterwards； but he did his best for his cases。
You know M‘Namara； don't you？ He always wears his hair long。 He
lets it be understood that it comes from his artistic strain； but it is really to
conceal the loss of one of his ears。 Walker cut the other one off； but you
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must not tell Mac I said so。
〃It was like this。 Walker had a fad about the portio durathe motor to
the face； you knowand he thought paralysis of it came from a
disturbance of the blood supply。 Something else which counterbalanced
that disturbance might； he thought； set it right again。 We had a very
obstinate case of Bell's paralysis in the wards； and had tried it with every
conceivable thing； blistering； tonics； nerve…stretching； galvanism； needles；
but all without result。 Walker got it into his head that removal of the ear
would increase the blood supply to the part； and he very soon gained the
consent of the patient to the operation。
〃Well； we did it at night。 Walker； of course； felt that it was something
of an experiment； and did not wish too much talk about it unless it proved
successful。 There were half…a…dozen of us there； M‘Namara and I among
the rest。 The room was a small one； and in the centre was in the narrow
table； with a macintosh over the pillow； and a blanket which extended
almost to the floor on either side。 Two candles； on a side…table near the
pillow； supplied all the light