some
extent explain this. The knowledge
we possess of any part is made up of the
numberless impressions from without which
affect its
sensitive surfaces, and which are
transmitted through its nerves to the spinal
nerve-cells, and through them, again, to the
brain. We are thus kept endlessly informed
as to the
existence of parts, because the
impressions which reach the brain are, by a law
of our being, referred by us to the part from
which they come. Now, when the part is cut
off, the nerve-trunks which led to it and from
it, remaining
capable of being impressed by
irritations, are made to
convey to the brain
from the stump impressions which are, as
usual, referred by the brain to the lost parts
to which these nerve-threads belonged. In
other words, the nerve is like a bell-wire.
You may pull it at any part of its course,
and thus ring the bell as well as if you pulled
at the end of the wire; but, in any case,
the
intelligent servant will refer the pull to
the front door, and obey it
accordingly. The
impressions made on the severed ends of the
nerve are due often to changes in the stump
during healing, and
consequently" target="_blank" title="ad.因此,所以">
consequently cease when
it has healed, so that finally, in a very
healthystump, no such impressions arise; the brain
ceases to
correspond with the lost leg, and,
as les
absents ont toujours tort, it is no longer
remembered or recognized. But in some
cases, such as mine proved at last to my sorrow,
the ends of the nerves
undergo a curious
alte
ration, and get to be enlarged and
altered. This change, as I have seen in my
practice of medicine, sometimes passes up
the nerves toward the centers, and occasions
a more or less
constantirritation of the nerve-
fibers, producing neuralgia, which is usually
referred by the brain to that part of the lost
limb to which the
affected nerve belonged.
This pain keeps the brain ever mindful of
the
missing part, and, imperfectly at least,
preserves to the man a
consciousness" target="_blank" title="n.意识;觉悟;知觉">
consciousness of
possessing that which he has not.
Where the pains come and go, as they do
in certain cases, the subjective sensations
thus occasioned are very curious, since in
such cases the man loses and gains, and loses
and regains, the
consciousness" target="_blank" title="n.意识;觉悟;知觉">
consciousness of the presence
of the lost parts, so that he will tell you,
``Now I feel my thumb, now I feel my
little finger.'' I should also add that nearly
every person who has lost an arm above the
elbow feels as though the lost member were
bent at the elbow, and at times is vividly
impressed with the notion that his fingers are
strongly flexed.
Other persons present a
peculiarity which
I am at a loss to
account for. Where the
leg, for
instance, has been lost, they feel as
if the foot were present, but as though the leg
were shortened. Thus, if the thigh has been
taken off, there seems to them to be a foot at
the knee; if the arm, a hand seems to be at
the elbow, or attached to the stump itself.
Before leaving Nashville I had begun to
suffer the most acute pain in my left hand,
especially the little finger; and so perfect was
the idea which was thus kept up of the real
presence of these
missing parts that I found
it hard at times to believe them
absent. Often
at night I would try with one lost hand to
grope for the other. As, however, I had no
pain in the right arm, the sense of the
existence of that limb gradually disappeared, as
did that of my legs also.
Everything was done for my neuralgia
which the doctors could think of; and at
length, at my
suggestion, I was removed, as
I have said, from the Stump Hospital to the
United States Army Hospital for Injuries
and Diseases of the Nervous System. It was
a pleasant,
suburban,
old-fashioned country-
seat, its gardens surrounded by a
circle of
wooden, one-story wards, shaded by fine trees.
There were some three hundred cases of
epilepsy,
paralysis, St. Vitus's dance, and wounds
of nerves. On one side of me lay a poor fellow,
a Dane, who had the same burning neuralgia
with which I once suffered, and which I now
learned was only too common. This man
had become
hysterical from pain. He carried
a
sponge in his pocket, and a bottle of
water in one hand, with which he
constantly
wetted the burning hand. Every sound
increased his
torture, and he even poured water
into his boots to keep himself from feeling
too sensibly the rough
friction of his soles
when walking. Like him, I was greatly
eased by having small doses of morphia
injected under the skin of my shoulder with a
hollow
needle fitted to a syringe.
As I improved under the morphia
treatment,
I began to be disturbed by the horrible
variety of
suffering about me. One man
walked sideways; there was one who could
not smell; another was dumb from an explosion.
In fact, every one had his own abnormal
peculiarity. Near me was a strange
case of palsy of the muscles called
rhomboids, whose office it is to hold down the
shoulder-blades flat on the back during the
motions of the arms, which, in themselves,
were strong enough. When, however, he
lifted these members, the shoulder-blades
stood out from the back like wings, and got
him the sobriquet of the ``Angel.'' In my
ward were also the cases of fits, which very
much annoyed me, as upon any great change
in the weather it was common to have a
dozen convulsions in view at once. Dr. Neek,
one of our physicians, told me that on one
occasion a hundred and fifty fits took place
within thirty-six hours. On my complaining
of these sights,
whence I alone could not fly,
I was placed in the paralytic and wound
ward, which I found much more pleasant.
A month of skilful
treatment eased me
entirely of my aches, and I then began to
experience certain curious feelings, upon
which, having nothing to do and nothing
to do anything with, I reflected a good deal.
It was a good while before I could correctly
explain to my own
satisfaction the phenomena
which at this time I was called upon
to observe. By the various ope
rations
already described I had lost about four fifths
of my weight. As a
consequence of this I
ate much less than usual, and could scarcely
have consumed the
ration of a soldier. I slept
also but little; for, as sleep is the
repose of
the brain, made necessary by the waste of its
tissues during thought and
voluntary movement,
and as this latter did not exist in my
case, I needed only that rest which was
necessary to
repair such
exhaustion of the nerve-
centers as was induced by thinking and the
automatic movements of the viscera.
I observed at this time also that my heart,
in place of
beating, as it once did, seventy-
eight in the minute, pulsated only forty-five
times in this interval--a fact to be easily
explained by the perfect quiescence to which
I was reduced, and the
consequentabsence of
that
healthy and
constantstimulus to the
muscles of the heart which exercise occasions.
Notwithstanding these drawbacks, my
physical health was good, which, I confess,
surprised me, for this among other reasons:
It is said that a burn of two thirds of the
surface destroys life, because then all the
excretory matters which this
portion of the
glands of the skin evolved are thrown upon
the blood, and
poison the man, just as happens
in an animal whose skin the physiologist
has varnished, so as in this way to destroy
its
function. Yet here was I, having lost at
least a third of my skin, and
apparently none
the worse for it.
Still more
remarkable, however, were the
psychical changes which I now began to perceive.
I found to my
horror that at times I
was less
conscious of myself, of my own
existence, than used to be the case. This
sensation was so novel that at first it quite
bewildered me. I felt like asking some one
constantly if I were really George Dedlow or
not; but, well aware how
absurd I should
seem after such a question, I refrained from
speaking of my case, and
strove more keenly
to analyze my feelings. At times the conviction
of my want of being myself was overwhelming
and most
painful. It was, as well
as I can describe it, a
deficiency in the egoistic
sentiment of
individuality. About one half
of the
sensitive surface of my skin was gone,
and thus much of relation to the outer world
destroyed. As a
consequence, a large part
of the receptive central organs must be out
of employ, and, like other idle things,
degenerating rapidly. Moreover, all the great
central ganglia, which give rise to movements in
the limbs, were also
eternally at rest. Thus
one half of me was
absent or
functionally
dead. This set me to thinking how much a
man might lose and yet live. If I were unhappy
enough to
survive, I might part with
my spleen at least, as many a dog has done,
and grown fat afterwards. The other organs
with which we breathe and
circulate the blood