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NEW YORK TIMES
July 25, 1885

THE PATIENT IN THE SICK ROOM. HIS BRAVERY IN SUFFERING AND HIS THOUGHTFULNESS FOR OTHERS.

The story of General Grant's patience under suffering would be as pathetic as anything ever written. Fortitude in the face of lingering death, a calm exterior when the truth could no longer be hidden from his family, an unceasing anxiety to do for himself while his strength lasted and to save others trouble - these were conspicuous features in his demeanor. He had been a sufferer over a year and from first to last, he bore himself the same. His self command never failed him. He could not hide wholly the physical signs of his malady, but never did his voice or actions betray him. He was fully disposed to bear his afflictions with the least possible annoyance to those about him.

The General's headaches were acute in the early phase of his illness. It seemed to him that the veins of his head and body would burst. Breathing at such times was labored and painful. He would sit in his chair or lie on the bed at such times with his hands clenched and jaw suppressed, without a single groan. It was not until his frame began to waste that the doctors fully realized his silent endurance. The habit of never saying anything about his condition was due to his desire to avoid giving trouble. No patient could be more considerate than he of the feelings and comfort of those attending him. When asked if he was suffering severely - and such was usually the case- he would respond with a simple "Yes," and then turn the conversation to a different topic.

While preparations for the General's book occupied his time more than anything else, he was into unmindful of other demands made upon him. The house was naturally overrun with callers since early March and it was his concern that his friends ought not be denied access to him. "Anyone that really wants to see me," he often said, "should not be sent away." Colonel Grant's discretion was relied upon in such instances. This was one of the few things that was kept from the General. His welcome to visitors was always cordial and they relieved him from his sufferings and the tedium of the disease. The headaches of the General were relieved a trifle by wearing his wool cap indoors, thought he pains were agonizing. A quick treatment was the application of very hot cloths. Many times, the pains coming suddenly, he excused himself from visitors long enough to have the cloths applied and then resumed his talk as though nothing had happened.

From his son, Colonel Fred, nothing was concealed. He was his father's most constant attendant. No one else in the family knew the whole truth as to how the General suffered, and it seems even the doctors hardly suspected it. Callers on the General were misled by his appearance and manner. The General was sadly reduced in flesh during his illness. From 180 pounds he wasted to 125 or less. His frame and limbs showed emaciation, but his face held its fullness and color quite well. He practiced the innocent deception on callers of receiving them with a small robe thrown over his limbs. As the emaciation was in some degree concealed, he had much less the appearance of a sick man.

The General was inclined, despite his natural reticence, to talk more than was good for him during his cancerous troubles. Whether it was a natural inclination to talk or stubbornness in he face of disease cannot be known, but he talked more in sickness than had been his habit in health. Sometimes he was so chatty that it was necessary to chide him. he was always good-tempered under correction of this kind. He was at all times a good listener.
Occasionally he walked about his room when visitors were there, with his woolen gown hanging about him and helped by his cane. At such times his attempts to conceal his infirmities were pitiful. "He came to the head of the stairs," one visitor said, "with his gown and cane and electric skull cap walking quite briskly for a sick man, but he was a very sick man." His diet rarely varied from beef soup, beef tea and eggs beaten in milk. The only instances of him eating with any relish were when he was permitted solid food. Dr. Douglas used to say of him that he was never hungry but forced himself to eat well.

Insomnia was the General's bane throughout his disease. For hours at a time he would lie in bed with his eyes closed so that his attendants might get rest, but he was perfectly awake. The bedroom in which the General spent most of his time was simply furnished - with a huge double bed over framed by canopy and a crayon picture of Judge Dent, Mrs. Grant's father, hanging over the bed. The walls were otherwise almost without decoration, except for his commission as Lieutenant-General and his membership in the G.A.R.

When in bed, the General had a fashion of curling up into the smallest possible space. He lay always on the small pillow, but took in his arm an immense feather pillow, which he hugged close to his cheek, with his arm under it, as a child sleeps. Although he almost never mentioned it, it was long known to his attendants that whenever he left his bed for the chair he was suffering, sometimes nervously, from soreness of the throat or sometimes from other pains. All of his friends knew how anxious he was to finish his book.

He was worried he could not provide for Mrs. Grant after his death and it gnawed on him. When the General was in his easy chair he liked to see his family about him unless he felt very miserably. His daughter was his chief delight. He loved the music of her voice and her caresses. Scarcely a day passed when they were not left alone for an hour or so together, so that she might read the news to him and chat with him. At such times he lay back in his chair with eyes closed, commenting on what she read and enjoying thoroughly every minute of her company. His desire for his daughter was also strong in the moments of his suffering. He seemed to want her always near him when the slightest danger threatened. She could comfort and cheer him quicker than anyone else. This devotion was fully reciprocated, for her thoughts were always with him, and often when he slept she glided into his room to see if anything could be done for him.

His sufferings were thus lightened by cheerful and loving companionship. Some one of the family were always with him. His little grandchildren opened the day for him with sweet greetings, and during the daylight hours, Mrs. Grant and the ladies were never far from him. At evening the entire family gathered for prayer and quiet and affectionate intercourse. The General enjoyed these evenings and they continued until he was too weak and suffering to endure them another day.

 

 

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