On the fourth day, however,
in came a case. He little knew that he was the first
that I had ever had all to myself in my life. Perhaps he
would not have looked quite so cheerful if he had
realised it.
Poor chap, he had little enough to be cheery over
either. He was an old soldier who had lost a good many
teeth, but who had continued to find room between his
nose and chin for a short black clay pipe. Lately there
appeared a small sore on his nose which had spread, and
become crusted. On feeling it I found it as hard as a
streak of glue, with constant darting pains passing
through it. Of course, there could be no question
as to diagnosis. It was epitheliomatous cancer, caused
by the irritation of the hot tobacco smoke. I sent him
back to his village, and two days after I drove over in
Cullingworth's dog-cart, and removed the growth. I only
got a sovereign for it. But it may be a nucleus for
cases. The old fellow did most admirably, and he has
just been in (with a most aristocratic curl to his
nostrils) to tell me that he has bought a box full of
churchwardens. It was my first operation, and I daresay
I was more nervous about it than my patient, but the
result has given me confidence. I have fully made up my
mind to let nothing pass me. Come what may, I am
prepared to do it. Why should a man wait? Of course, I
know that many men do; but surely one's nerve is more
likely to be strong and one's knowledge fresh now than in
twenty years.
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