[Sidenote:  Chattering hopes the bane of the sick.]

“Chattering Hopes” may seem an odd heading.  But I really believe there is scarcely a greater worry which invalids have to endure than the incurable hopes of their friends.  There is no one practice against which I can speak more strongly from actual personal experience, wide and long, of its effects during sickness observed both upon others and upon myself.  I would appeal most seriously to all friends, visitors, and attendants of the sick to leave off this practice of attempting to “cheer” the sick by making light of their danger and by exaggerating their probabilities of recovery.

Far more now than formerly does the medical attendant tell the truth to the sick who are really desirous to hear it about their own state.

How intense is the folly, then, to say the least of it, of the friend, be he even a medical man, who thinks that his opinion, given after a cursory observation, will weigh with the patient, against the opinion of the medical attendant, given, perhaps, after years of observation, after using every help to diagnosis afforded by the stethoscope, the examination of pulse, tongue, &c.; and certainly after much more observation than the friend can possibly have had.

Supposing the patient to be possessed of common sense,—­how can the “favourable” opinion, if it is to be called an opinion at all, of the casual visitor “cheer” him,—­when different from that of the experienced attendant?  Unquestionably the latter may, and often does, turn out to be wrong.  But which is most likely to be wrong?

[Sidenote:  Patient does not want to talk of himself.]

The fact is, that the patient[31] is not “cheered” at all by these well-meaning, most tiresome friends.  On the contrary, he is depressed and wearied.  If, on the one hand, he exerts himself to tell each successive member of this too numerous conspiracy, whose name is legion, why he does not think as they do,—­in what respect he is worse,—­what symptoms exist that they know nothing of,—­he is fatigued instead of “cheered,” and his attention is fixed upon himself.  In general, patients who are really ill, do not want to talk about themselves.  Hypochondriacs do, but again I say we are not on the subject of hypochondriacs.

[Sidenote:  Absurd consolations put forth for the benefit of the sick.]

If, on the other hand, and which is much more frequently the case, the patient says nothing, but the Shakespearian “Oh!” “Ah!” “Go to!” and “In good sooth!” in order to escape from the conversation about himself the sooner, he is depressed by want of sympathy.  He feels isolated in the midst of friends.  He feels what a convenience it would be, if there were any single person to whom he could speak simply and openly, without pulling the string upon himself of this shower-bath of silly hopes and encouragements; to whom he could express his wishes and directions without that person persisting