Mr V had appeared at our appointment in a panic, after an episode of premature ventricular contractions and a terrifying nightmare. In the dream, he was threatened by a blue, masklike face with white circles for eyes and 2 slits for a nose.
One day in 1946 while I was making neurology rounds, a crumpled piece of humanity was wheeled into the ward. When "Ora" came to the hospital for her annual epilepsy checkup, she had not been able to walk for more than a year.
As I approach retirement, I have been looking back over the patients I have seen. Although I was trained as a psychoanalyst, most of the therapeutic procedures I have engaged in have, of necessity, been adaptations of my analytic skills in order to meet the needs of particular patients.