1/06/38 Ltr. from [
849]:
Dear Eddie:-
You have a heart that is attuned to trouble, so you will
listen sympathetically to this story, and help me as much as
you can, I know -
On the Monday evening after Christmas I was stricken with an
excruciating pain in my right hip. All night it plagued me,
so that by morning I was almost mad. All I wanted was a
doctor to give me some dope. Dr. Wheelock, who had treated
me for flu, came over and prescribed the dope and also the
new drug, sulfanilimide, for the pain. He was upset about my
apparent condition, very upset. He said I had gone back, was
not on the right track, etc., and all the time I lay there
heartsick, racked with pain and not caring much one way or
the other. The doctor then went on to say that I was too
young to let myself in for permanent disability and that he
was going to ride my tail until I was well... "If you were
my patient, and you are my patient now, I'd take you to the
best doctors in the east and to the Mayo Clinic if necessary,
until you were cured," he said, "and I'd make you do it if I
had to beat you over the head with a stick."
Well, I could have handled that situation all right except
that [
1102] was listening to all this and [
1102]'s faith in
the work is none too strong. She talked to me long and
earnestly while I waited for the dope, and begged me with
tears in her eyes to promise her that I would stick to Dr.
Wheelock and his methods. She was worried more about me than
herself, and she said she would go to the the hospital [to
have her baby] happy if I would make that promise. So I did.
What else could I do?
For three days I was under the influence of dope. Then the
pain wore off and I felt a little better, although the drug
knocked me for a loop every time I took it. Dr. Wheelock had
a theory that my right knee was troubled with something that
orthopedic surgery could cure. He sent me in, as soon as I
could get up, to see Dr. Arthur Krida, head of orthopedics at
Bellevue. Dr. Krida, after hearing the whole history of my
case, examining the x-rays and me, said there was no case for
surgery and rendered his diagnosis as arthritis coming from
influenza - he found a little in the left knee (which is now
out of shape and painful) and in the right hip. Now Dr.
Wheelock wants me to go to New York for hospital observation
under Dr. Cecil, the best arthritis man in the east, to find
a cause and a cure.
Now imagine for yourself what turmoil this has caused in my
mind. I believe implicitly that the readings have diagnosed
the case correctly. How then am I to feel as this mockery
goes on and I get worse, as I undoubtedly will?
Perhaps you can help me in this way. Does the description of
my ailment as given in the readings by any chance tally with
any other description of arthritis as given in a reading? I
mean, is there a chance that it really is arthritis, and that
therefore I won't be in too bad a spot under this doctor?
If not, what help could I get from a reading? These doctors
accept me as an intelligent fellow. I might suggest a theory
or line of reasoning to them, and they might follow it - if
the reading would give it to me. I might be taking a
medicine on the side to help myself.
What I see before me otherwise is pretty horrible, and no
man, not even myself, deserves such a fate: dragged here and
there, punched full of holes, tortured, drained of blood,
stamina, and money, and finally thrown aside as incurable.
Then, to come creeping back to my friend HAVING KNOWN ALL THE
TIME THAT ONLY THERE COULD I GET HELP!
What shall I do? I want a reading, if only for my own
curiosity. It will be funny to lie in a hospital bed while
learned doctors discuss this and that theory, and I lie there
and KNOW - and cannot speak or help myself. But I might.
Maybe the reading will suggest a way? Do you think it might.
They are always closing in on me, Eddie, and I need your
help. I do not understand why all this is coming about, but
there is one thing certain - when it is over, either in
victory or defeat, I will be able to say with St. Paul. "I
have fought the good fight; I have kept the faith."
Always, [
849]
1/14/38 He wired requesting a Life Reading for baby daughter,
[
1521] just born. HLC ans'd saying EC was ill and would get
both the Life rdg. and [
849]'s Ck. Physical next week.
1/24/38 His wire to EC: "Did not receive your telegram until
today - have not been in office for a month. Will be at home
until Thursday - after that at New York Hospital, 535 East
68th St. Hospitalization necessary as I can no longer walk."
1/24/38 P.M. See
849-24.



Edgar Cayce Readings © 1971, 1993, 1994, 1995 by the Edgar Cayce Foundation