Mr. Dooley Says

by Finley Peter Dunne

  DRUGS

  "What ails ye?" asked Mr. Dooley of Mr. Hennessy, who looked dejected.

  "I'm a sick man," said Mr. Hennessy.

  "Since th' picnic?"

  "Now that I come to think iv it, it did begin th' day afther th'picnic," said Mr. Hennessy. "I've been to see Dock O'Leary. He give methis an' these here pills an' some powdhers besides. An' d'ye know,though I haven't taken anny iv thim yet, I feel betther already."

  "Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis a grand thing to be a doctor. A manthat's a doctor don't have to buy anny funny papers to enjye life. Th'likes iv ye goes to a picnic an' has a pleasant, peaceful day in th'counthry dancin' breakdowns an' kickin' a football in th' sun an' ivryfifteen minyits or so washin' down a couple of dill-pickles with abottle of white pop. Th' next day ye get what's comin' to ye in th'right place an' bein' a sthrong, hearty man that cudden't be kilt beannything less thin a safe fallin' on ye fr'm a twenty-story building yeknow ye ar-re goin' to die. Th' good woman advises a mustard plastherbut ye scorn th' suggestion. What good wud a mustard plasther be againthis fatal epidemic that is ragin' inside iv ye? Besides a mustardplasther wud hurt. So th' good woman, frivilous crather that she is,goes back to her wurruk singin' a light chune. She knows she's goin' tohave to put up with ye f'r some time to come. A mustard plasther,Hinnissy, is th' rale test iv whether a pain is goin' to kill ye or not.If the plasther is onbearable ye can bet th' pain undherneath it is not.

  "But ye know ye are goin' to die an' ye're not sure whether ye'll sendf'r Father Kelly or th' doctor. Ye finally decide to save up FatherKelly f'r th' last an' ye sind f'r th' Dock. Havin' rescued ye fr'm th'jaws iv death two or three times befure whin ye had a sick headache th'Dock takes his time about comin', but just as ye are beginnin' to throwye'er boots at th' clock an' show other signs iv what he calls rigemmortar, he rides up in his fine horse an' buggy. He gets out slowly, onefoot at a time, hitches his horse an' ties a nose bag on his head. Thinhe chats f'r two hundherd years with th' polisman on th' beat. He tellshim a good story an' they laugh harshly.

  "Whin th' polisman goes his way th' Dock meets th' good woman at th'dure an' they exchange a few wurruds about th' weather, th' badcondition iv th' sthreets, th' health iv Mary Ann since she had th'croup an' ye'ersilf. Ye catch th' wurruds, 'Grape Pie,' 'Canned Salmon,''Cast-iron digestion.' Still he doesn't come up. He tells a few storiesto th' childher. He weighs th' youngest in his hands an' says: 'That's afine boy ye have, Mrs. Hinnissy. I make no doubt he'll grow up to be apolisman.' He examines th' phottygraft album an' asks if that isn'tso-an'-so. An' all this time ye lay writhin' in mortal agony an' sayin'to ye'ersilf: 'Inhuman monsther, to lave me perish here while he chatswith a callous woman that I haven't said annything but What? to f'rtwinty years.'

  "Ye begin to think there's a conspiracy against ye to get ye'er moneybefure he saunters into th' room an' says in a gay tone: 'Well, whatd'ye mane be tyin' up wan iv th' gr-reat industhrees iv our nation bestayin' away fr'm wurruk f'r a day?' 'Dock,' says ye in a feeble voice,'I have a tur'ble pain in me abdumdum. It reaches fr'm here to here,'makin' a rough sketch iv th' burned disthrict undher th' blanket. 'Ifelt it comin' on last night but I didn't say annything f'r fear ivalarmin' me wife, so I simply groaned,' says ye.

  "While ye ar-re describin' ye'er pangs, he walks around th' room lookin'at th' pictures. Afther ye've got through he comes over an says: 'Laveme look at ye'er tongue. 'Hum,' he says, holdin' ye'er wrist an' bowin'through th' window to a frind iv his on a sthreet car. 'Does thathurt?' he says, stabbin' ye with his thumbs in th' suburbs iv th' pain.'Ye know it does,' says ye with a groan. 'Don't do that again. Yescratched me.' He hurls ye'er wrist back at ye an' stands at th' windowlookin' out at th' firemen acrost th' sthreet playin' dominoes. He saysnawthin' to ye an' ye feel like th' prisoner while th' foreman iv th'jury is fumblin' in his inside pocket f'r th' verdict. Ye can stand itno longer. 'Dock,' says he, 'is it annything fatal? I'm not fit to diebut tell me th' worst an' I will thry to bear it. 'Well,' says he, 'yehave a slight interioritis iv th' semi-colon. But this purscriptionought to fix ye up all right. Ye'd betther take it over to th' dhrugsthore an' have it filled ye'ersilf. In th' manetime I'd advise ye to becareful iv ye'er dite. I wudden't ate annything with glass or a largepercintage iv plasther iv Paris in it.' An' he goes away to write hisbill.

  "I wondher why ye can always read a doctor's bill an' ye niver can readhis purscription. F'r all ye know, it may be a short note to th'dhruggist askin' him to hit ye on th' head with a pestle. An' it's agood thing ye can't read it. If ye cud, ye'd say: 'I'll not cash this inat no dhrug store. I'll go over to Dooley's an' get th' rale thing.' So,afther thryin' to decipher this here corner iv a dhress patthern, yeclimb into ye'er clothes f'r what may be ye'er last walk up Ar-rchyRoad. As ye go along ye begin to think that maybe th' Dock knows ye haveth' Asiatic cholery an' was onl'y thryin' to jolly ye with his manner ivdealin' with ye. As ye get near th' dhrug store ye feel sure iv it, an''tis with th' air iv a man without hope that ye hand th' paper to ayoung pharmycist who is mixin' a two-cent stamp f'r a lady customer. Hehands it over to a scientist who is compoundin' an ice-cream soda f'r achild, with th' remark: 'O'Leary's writin' is gettin' worse an' worse. Ican't make this out at all.' 'Oh,' says th' chemist, layin' down hisspoon, 'that's his old cure f'r th' bellyache. Ye'll find a bucket ivit in th' back room next to th' coal scuttle.'

  "It's a gr-reat medicine he give ye. It will do ye good no matther whatye do with it. I wud first thry poorin' some iv it in me hair. If thatdon't help ye see how far ye can throw th' bottle into th' river. Yefeel betther already. Ye ought to write to th' medical journals aboutth' case. It is a remarkable cure. 'M---- H---- was stricken withexcruciating tortures in th' gastric regions followin' an unusuallysevere outing in th' counthry. F'r a time it looked as though it mightbe niciss'ry to saw out th' infected area, but as this wud lave an uglyspace between legs an' chin, it was determined to apply Jam. Gin.VIII. Th' remedy acted instantly. Afther carryin' th' bottle uncorkedf'r five minyits in his inside pocket th' patient showed signs ivrecovery an' is now again in his accustomed health.'

  "Yes, sir, if I was a doctor I'd be ayether laughin' or cryin' all th'time. I'd be laughin' over th' cases that I was called into whin Iwasn't needed an' cryin' over th' cases where I cud do no good. An'that wud be most iv me cases.

  "Dock O'Leary comes in here often an' talks medicine to me. 'Ye'ers is avery thrying pro-fissyon,' says I. 'It is,' says he. 'I'm tired out,'says he. 'Have ye had a good manny desprit cases to-day?' says I. 'Itisn't that,' says he, 'but I'm not a very muscular man,' he says, 'an'some iv th' windows in these old frame houses are hard to open,' hesays. Th' Dock don't believe much in dhrugs. He says that if he wasn'tafraid iv losin' his practice he wudn't give annybody annything butquinine an' he isn't sure about that. He says th' more he practisesmedicine th' more he becomes a janitor with a knowledge iv cookin'. Hesays if people wud on'y call him in befure they got sick, he'd abolishivry disease in th' ward except old age an' pollyticks. He says he'slookin' forward to th' day whin th' tillyphone will ring an' he'll heara voice sayin': 'Hurry up over to Hinnissy's. He niver felt so well inhis life.' 'All right, I'll be over as soon as I can hitch up th'horse. Take him away fr'm th' supper table at wanst, give him a pipefuliv tobacco an' walk him three times around th' block.'

  "But whin a man's sick, he's sick an' nawthin' will cure him orannything will. In th' old days befure ye an' I were born, th' doctorwas th' barber too. He'd shave ye, cut ye'er hair, dye ye'er mustache,give ye a dhry shampoo an' cure ye iv appindicitis while ye were havin'ye'er shoes shined be th' naygur. Ivry gineration iv doctors has hadtheir favrite remedies. Wanst people were cured iv fatal maladies beapplications iv blind puppies, hair fr'm the skulls iv dead men an'solutions iv bat's wings, just as now they're cured be dhrinkin' atayspoonful iv a very ordhinary article iv booze that's had some kind iva pizenous weed dissolved in it.

  "Dhrugs, says Dock O'Leary, are a little iv a pizen that a little moreiv wud kill ye. He s
ays that if ye look up anny poplar dhrug in th'ditchnry ye'll see that it is 'A very powerful pizen of great use inmedicine.' I took calomel at his hands f'r manny years till he told methat it was about the same thing they put into Rough on Rats. Thin Istopped. If I've got to die, I want to die on th' premises.

  "But, as he tells me, ye can't stop people from takin' dhrugs an' yemight as well give thim something that will look important enough to beinthrojuced to their important an' fatal cold in th' head. If ye don't,they'll leap f'r the patent medicines. Mind ye, I haven't got annythingto say again patent medicines. If a man wud rather take thim thin dhrinkat a bar or go down to Hop Lung's f'r a long dhraw, he's within hisrights. Manny a man have I known who was a victim iv th' tortures iv acigareet cough who is now livin' comfortable an' happy as an opeem fiendbe takin' Doctor Wheezo's Consumption Cure. I knew a fellow wanst whosuffered fr'm spring fever to that extent that he niver did a day'swurruk. To-day, afther dhrinkin' a bottle of Gazooma, he will go homenot on'y with th' strenth but th' desire to beat his wife. There is adhrug store on ivry corner an' they're goin' to dhrive out th' saloonsonless th' govermint will let us honest merchants put a little cocaineor chloral in our cough-drops an' advertise that it will cure spinalminigitis. An' it will, too, f'r awhile."

  "Don't ye iver take dhrugs?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

  "Niver whin I'm well," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I'm sick, I'm so sick I'dtake annything."