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Updated: June 4, 2025
Lately, thar's been days, lots of 'em, when I hain't had no pain not a mite, an' 'course that's the worst symptom of all. Then sometimes thar's been such shootin' pains that I kind o' worried fur fear 'twas locomotive ataxia; but mebbe the very next day it would change so's I did n't know but 'twas appendicitis, an' that my vermi-er-vermicelli appendix was the trouble."
He's in pain. I'll take him first." And, in later years, I have had colleagues with whom it was positively painful to walk down a crowded street, from the gruesome habit that they had of picking out, and condemning to lingering deaths, the cases of cancer, of Bright's disease, or of locomotor ataxia, that we happened to meet.
The Duke is a very old friend of mine, and so " "Perfect. We'll meet then. They say it's really locomotor ataxia, poor fellow I but ah, there's Fritz!" Sir Donald looked at her with a sudden inquiring shrewdness, that lit up his faded eyes and made them for a moment almost young.
Brinkley's hospital during the week of his treatment. Two weeks before his arrival a man suffering from locomotor ataxia had been carried in, unable to help himself at all. When the writer saw this man and talked with him he was up and dressed and walking about, without a cane, and he left for home after a total stay of something less than three weeks.
"Ataxia!" she repeated turning very pale. A cruel image rose before her, that of a neighbor, a man still young, whom for the past ten years she had seen driven about in a little carriage by a servant. Was not this infirmity the worst of all ills, the ax stroke that separates a living being from social and active life? "But," she murmured, "he complains only of rheumatism."
Then, meeting Clotilde in the vestibule, where she was hanging up her hat and her umbrella, he said to her in an undertone: "Do you know that I am uneasy about your brother?" "Why so?" "I have observed him attentively. I don't like the way in which he walks; and have you noticed what an anxious look he has at times? That has never deceived me. In short, your brother is threatened with ataxia."
"I must go," said he. "I am sorry that we cannot come to some more friendly conclusion since we are to be neighbours," she remarked. He bowed again, and took a step towards the door. "It was a singular coincidence," she continued, "that at the instant that you called I was reading your paper on 'Locomotor Ataxia, in the Lancet." "Indeed," said he drily. "I thought it was a very able monograph."
He got up, sat down again, and finished by resting his elbow on the partition and conversing in an undertone with a patient who sat against this same partition in the next compartment. The patient in question was a thick-set man of fifty, with a good-natured face and a large head, completely bald. His name was Sabathier, and for fifteen years he had been stricken with ataxia.
And thus it was that he returned home one afternoon, his mind distracted because of an accident which had happened; having on his conscience, as a physician, the death of a man. He had gone to give a hypodermic injection to Lafouasse, the tavern keeper, whose ataxia had within a short time made such rapid progress that he regarded him as doomed.
Just then, however, Gerard, who passed by dragging M. Sabathier to the piscinas, called to Pierre, whom he saw unoccupied, and asked him to come and help him, for it would not be an easy task to move and bathe this helpless victim of ataxia. And thus Pierre lingered with the sufferer in the men's piscina for nearly half an hour, whilst Gerard returned to the Grotto to fetch another patient.
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