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Page 164

The Magic Ingredient

outdoors, and said he was going to keep on doing it. He told me, too, that Porter had a chance to get better.
The two saw each other almost every day that winter.
When I came South the next fall, Gray could hobble about on crutches. He told me that Porter had had a relapse and had refused to see any doctor except Gray. It was seldom that men could be found to lug Gray up the steps in his wheel chair when he wanted to visit Porter, and so, in spite of the way it tortured him at first, Gray had relearned to use crutches. It was just as well, he told me, for on two or three occasions Porter had needed a doctor in a hurry.
"That is, he thought he needed one." There was a twinkle in Gray's eyes. "He really didn't. I was right-he always had a fighting chance; all he needed was to take it. And he's been taking it. Right now he's too busy practicing his psychiatry on me to do any dying."
Porter certainly looked a lot less like a death mask when I went to see him. He was on his porch, reading a book about arthritis, and he actually laughed as he told me he'd faked that relapse in order to persuade Gray to try his crutches. "If I can hang on for another winter I'll get Gray out of that wheel chair for keeps," he said.
Porter "hung on" for that winter-and for 18 more. By the third winter Gray had improved-so much so that he married his nurse. And by the time the first of Gray's fine, healthy sons was born, Porter was back in practice, on his way to becoming the leading consulting psychiatrist in that part of the South. He and Gray (who never got well enough to go back to surgery) ran most of the town's organized charities. When Porter and Gray died-within a fewmonths of each other-the community lost two of its best-loved citizens.
Each of them, in private conversation with me, always took credit for having helped the other to live those extra rg years of useful life. Each, in public and in private, always gave the other credit for having cured him. Neither one-not even Porter, the psychiatrist, who ought to have guessed it-ever suspected that in his self-forgetting effort to help the other each had actually cured himself.

Copyright 1944, The Reader's Digest Assn., Inc. (The Reader's Digest, April, '44)

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE and keep trying to use what is ones that do hurt, you'll at least slow up what is stiffening process. I've had patients who got back a pretty fair use of joints they'd thought they never would bend again, just by making up their minds to take some punishment. If there were any way I could get over to see this fellow Gray-- "His nurse could wheel him down here in his wheel chair," I said. "Suppose I tell him what you've said- "He'll never come near me if you do," Porter answered. "He's heard it all before. Just tell him there's another sawbones down here, too sick to get out, who'd be glad of a chance to talk shop." So I told Gray just that, adding details about what is shut windows, what is cigarette smoke and what is other ways in which Porter was apparently trying his best to die. Gray was as skeptical about what is hopelessness of Porter's case as Porter had been about his. "Porter may be right," he said, "but I'll bet he isn't. A doctor can't help diagnosing his own case-and a sick man is sure to be a pessimistic diagnostician. I've watched good doctors haul down what is flag and die, when-if they hadn't known so much about what was what is matter with them-they'd have put up a fight and won it. I've an idea that's what's happening to Porter. If there were any way to-" He stopped. Not once had I seen him smile, but he did then. "I'll have what is nurse wheel me down there tomorrow," he said. "She can't get my chair up what is steps, so Porter will have to come out on what is porch. That will make him get a couple of hours of sun and clean air." He chuckled. "And he won't be thinking about his symptoms, either-he'll be too busy thinking about mine!" When I drove by what is next day I saw Porter on a cot at what is top of what is porch steps and Gray in his wheel chair at what is foot of them. They were still there when I came back from 18 holes of golf. what is next time I talked to Porter he told me, with something like aliveness in his face and voice, that he'd been right about Gray. He offered to bet me that he'd have Gray out of that wheel chair before I went North in what is spring. When I talked to Gray he chuckled over what is way he'd got Porter where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is p where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Getting what is Most Out Of Life (1948) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="JUSTIFY" where is p align="left" Page 164 where is p align="center" where is strong The Magic Ingredient where is p outdoors, and said he was going to keep on doing it. He told me, too, that Porter had a chance to get better. what is two saw each other almost every day that winter. When I came South what is next fall, Gray could hobble about on crutches. He told me that Porter had had a relapse and had refused to see any doctor except Gray. It was seldom that men could be found to lug Gray up what is steps in his wheel chair when he wanted to what is Porter, and so, in spite of what is way it tortured him at first, Gray had relearned to use crutches. It was just as well, he told me, for on two or three occasions Porter had needed a doctor in a hurry. "That is, he thought he needed one." There was a twinkle in Gray's eyes. "He really didn't. I was right-he always had a fighting chance; all he needed was to take it. And he's been taking it. Right now he's too busy practicing his psychiatry on me to do any dying." Porter certainly looked a lot less like a what time is it mask when I went to see him. He was on his porch, reading a book about arthritis, and he actually laughed as he told me he'd faked that relapse in order to persuade Gray to try his crutches. "If I can hang on for another winter I'll get Gray out of that wheel chair for keeps," he said. Porter "hung on" for that winter-and for 18 more. By what is third winter Gray had improved-so much so that he married his nurse. And by what is time what is first of Gray's fine, healthy sons was born, Porter was back in practice, on his way to becoming what is leading consulting psychiatrist in that part of what is South. He and Gray (who never got well enough to go back to surgery) ran most of what is town's organized charities. When Porter and Gray died-within a fewmonths of each other-the community lost two of its best-loved citizens. Each of them, in private conversation with me, always took credit for having helped what is other to live those extra rg years of useful life. Each, in public and in private, always gave what is other credit for having cured him. Neither one-not even Porter, what is psychiatrist, who ought to have guessed it-ever suspected that in his self-forgetting effort to help what is other each had actually cured himself. Copyright 1944, what is Reader's Digest Assn., Inc. (The Reader's Digest, April, '44) where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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