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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
33
However,
let
that
go.
The
point
I
want
to
develop
is
that
the
modern
doctor's
business
is
an
extremely
simple
one,
which
could
be
acquired
in
about
two
weeks.
This
is
the
way
it
is
done.
The
patient
enters
the
consulting-room.
"Doctor,"
he
says,
"I
have
a
bad
pain."
"Where
is
it?"
"Here."
"Stand
up,"
says
the
doctor,
"and
put
your
arms
up
above
your
head."
Then
the
doctor
goes
behind
the
patient
and
strikes
him
a
powerful
blow
in
the
back.
"Do
you
feel
that,"
he
says.
"I
do,"
says
the
patient.
Then
the
doctor
turns
suddenly
and
lets
him
have
a
left
hook
under
the
heart.
"Can
you
feel
that,"
he
says
viciously,
as
the
patient
falls
over
on
the
sofa
in
a
heap.
"Get
up,"
says
the
doctor,
and
counts
ten.
The
patient
rises.
The
doctor
looks
him
over
very
carefully
without
speaking,
and
then
suddenly
fetches
him
a
blow
in
the
stomach
that
doubles
him
up
speechless.
The
doctor
walks
over
to
the
window
and
reads
the
morning
paper
for
a
while.
Presently
he
turns
and
begins
to
mutter
more
to
himself
than
the
patient.
"Hum!"
he
says,
"there's
a
slight
anaesthesia
of
the
tympanum."
"Is
that
so?"
says
the
patient,
in
an
agony
of
fear.
"What
can
I
do
about
it,
doctor?"
"Well,"
says
the
doctor,
"I
want
you
to
keep
very
quiet;
you'll
have
to
go
to
bed
and
stay
there
and
keep
quiet."
In
reality,
of
course,
the
doctor
hasn't
the
least
idea
what
is
wrong
with
the
man;
but
he
DOES
know
that
if
he
will
go
to
bed
and
keep
quiet,
awfully
quiet,
he'll
either
get
quietly
well
again
or
else
die
a
quiet
death.
Meantime,
if
the
doctor
calls
every
morning
and
thumps
and
beats
him,
he
can
keep
the
patient
submissive
and
perhaps
force
him
to
confess
what
is
wrong
with
him.
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