The Anatomy of Deception - Lawrence Goldstone [111]
“The realization did not come immediately. Quite the contrary. At first, I decided that I would overwhelm cocaine as I had overwhelmed every other obstacle. I took a leave from my practice and entered a convalescent clinic in Providence, where I remained for a year. For my first months, although it was torture to abstain, I sustained myself with the knowledge that I was asserting my will over a demon, that I was persevering through to victory. But slowly I wore down. Eventually, I was helpless to resist. I began to make arrangements with members of the staff, the very people who were charged with ensuring that the facility remained untainted, to purchase and smuggle the drug to me. It was a costly proposition, but I would have paid anything.
“Upon my departure from Providence, I was pronounced cured, my secret safe. Still, when I returned to New York, my friends and associates abandoned me. For many, the opportunity to sneer at the fallen Halsted was simply too great a temptation to resist. Except for Welch. Welch remained as intimate as before and was also the only one who at first guessed that I was still in the grip of the drug. My demeanor had been so altered, however, that it was not long before tongues began to cluck. When Welch went on to Baltimore, I was left completely alone, a pariah.
“But my salvation was at hand. Welch persuaded Gilman and Billings to take me on. My gratitude was boundless and I was determined to justify his trust by ridding myself of my addiction once and for all.
“I decided that if I could not resist the drug, I would put myself where there were no drugs to be had. I booked passage on a ship bound for South America, and, lest I lose control completely, took with me a minimal amount of cocaine. Within two days of sailing, I had used my entire supply. I stayed in my cabin, refusing to come out, even for meals. The agony became so great that I was emitting loud moans, more animal than human. On more than one occasion, the steward knocked on my door and asked if I needed the services of a physician … quite humorous, don’t you think?
“Finally, I could endure it no longer. I burst from my cabin in the middle of the night, tore through the ship, and smashed my way into the captain’s cabin, with the aim of availing myself of whatever narcotics were in the medicine chest. I overpowered the captain and was subdued only when he raised the alarm and four sailors came to his assistance. By that time, the captain had grabbed his pistol and it was only because I was so obviously mad that I was not shot. I eventually managed to explain my situation, how I had come to be the way I was, and the captain, a decent and sympathetic man, did not have me arrested when we reached port. He even supplied me with small amounts of morphia on the return voyage to keep my situation manageable.”
“On Dr. Halsted’s request,” said the Professor, “the captain had cabled Welch in Baltimore. Welch came immediately and, as a result, the affair was not made public, not even to the Hopkins administration. I am counting on your discretion, Ephraim, to see that it remains that way.”
“I will not repeat what I have been told in confidence,” I said.
“I have no doubt of your honor,” the Professor replied. The remark stung like nettles.
“Welch took me to Baltimore,” Halsted went on, “and into his home. He watched over me as one would tend a sick child. I told him of the success that the ship captain had substituting small quantities of morphia for cocaine, and Welch thought that an excellent idea. His hypothesis was that if cocaine addiction was the more powerful, it was vital to put an end to it by any means possible. That hypothesis proved correct. By injecting small amounts of morphia, I was able to rid myself of cocaine. It was my most blissful and productive period in five years. And, although I found that I had