Life, 1922-02-16 · page 14 of 34
Life — February 16, 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon satirizes people's reluctance to discuss their medical conditions or surgical procedures. The caption quotes a doctor saying a patient "has recovered from his illness" but "doesn't tell you about his operation now unless you ask him." The crowded street scene shows a man with a visible abdominal scar or bandage, surrounded by pedestrians. The joke critiques social embarrassment around bodily functions and medical matters—a patient may physically recover well but avoids mentioning surgery due to Victorian-era propriety and social discomfort with discussing health problems publicly. The "favorable symptom" is actually psychological: the patient's silence and apparent shame about his operation, rather than any physical improvement. It mocks both the patient's bashfulness and society's squeamishness about medical topics.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE Hitherto Unpublished Correspondence ‘HE letters of so many people are being gathered together and pub- lished of late that it behooves one to stop and think, before placing pen to paper, “How will this look in a deckle- edged volume, with an introduction by my son?” The idea induces several severe chills on thinking back to what has already gone out over my signature. I cer- tainly had no idea of publicity being given to the following when I wrote it to the Home Development and Mort- gage Co.: “September 17, 1921. “Gentlemen: I have just returned from a business trip to Europe, lasting over three months, and find your notice stating that the June payment on my second mortgage is overdue. I assure you that nothing short of my absence from this country would have made me so dilatory. You can imagine my “Practically. surprise and irritation on finding that my office had neglected to forward the notice to me. Enclosed find check, etc.” My surprise and irritation mentioned in this letter would be nothing to my chagrin and confusion in the event of the letter’s being printed, for it is a matter of public record that I was not in Europe at all last summer, but at home, writing the following letters: “July rst, 1921. “Dear Mrs. Reach: I am terribly sorry, but Lucy and I will be unable to join your house-party at ‘Jinglenook’ for over the Fourth. Both babies have come down with whooping-cough and we have to be quarantined with them every minute from now until early - winter. We are broken-hearted over it (missing your party, not the whoop- ing-cough) and hope that you will understand.” The Most Favorable Symptom “Has he recovered from his illness?” “July Ist, 1921. “Dear Uncle Stephen: Lucy and | will certainly be overjoyed to have you drop in on us for the Fourth. The children are both well and are tickled to pieces at the prospect of seeing ‘Nunkie Steep,’ as they call you. By all means bring the Mercer. We can find some place for it, even if we have to give it our bed-room. And we can hardly wait to thank you in person for the tremendous checks you sent the boys for their birthdays. Come early and stay as long as you possibly can. Remember, we want our home to be your home, dear Uncle Stephen.” Hereafter I will mark all letters which are suitable for compilation with a red star in the upper right-hand cor- ner. Please let all the others go un- noticed. R.C.B. (4 LLL. He doesn’t tell you about his operation now unless you ask him.” comicbooks.com