All at once, however, I realized—or rather sensed—that Neuendorf and I were no longer alone: someone else had crept up behind me, I began to turn around, but before I could move, a sack-like article with the rough, abrasive texture of burlap was thrust over my head, while—almost simultaneously—I received a sharp blow to the top of my cranium with a heavy, solid object. An explosion of brilliant white light flared within the confines of my skull, accompanied by a paroxysm of the most intense pain. Then the blinding light faded—the pain was mercifully cut short—and all was darkness—and silence—and utter oblivion.

CHAPTER 29

Among the many harrowing anecdotes recounted by Dr. Valdemar in his remarkable volume The Recrudescence of Leprosy and Its Causation, one in particular had left a deep and lasting impression upon my imagination. This was the case of a young Trinidadian gentleman who—while seated on the portico of his plantation house one afternoon, enjoying a panatela cigar—had suddenly become aware of the distinctive aroma of roasting meat. The scent appeared to be originating from somewhere nearby; and yet, when he cast his gaze about, the young man was unable to detect its source.

With a dismissive shrug, he returned to his contemplations. After an interval of several moments, he raised his cigar to his lips with the intention of taking another draw. It was only then that he perceived—to his inexpressible astonishment and consternation—that the panatela had burnt itself down to a hot, glowing stub, clamped between the first and middle fingers of his right hand. The smell he had detected was his own smoldering flesh!

Leaping to his feet, he dashed to the nearest pump and doused his hand in water. His injured fingers were so severely charred that the topmost knuckle of each digit ultimately required surgical amputation. And yet, he had felt not the slightest glimmering of pain, his fingertips having become utterly deadened to any sensation whatsoever—the first sign of that dreadful affliction which would ultimately infect his entire body and condemn him to the hellish existence of the leper.

It was not merely the grotesque details of this story that made it so compelling to me when I had first encountered it in Valdemar’s book, but also the profound—and paradoxically reassuring—lesson it conveyed. It is customary to regard acute physical suffering as an absolute evil—an experience to be avoided at all costs. But as the above-related incident suggests, there are times when pain, even of the most excruciating sort, may—and indeed ought—to be perceived as a vital and even beneficial impulse, equivalent to the brazen clamor of an alarum bell: a protective device which Nature has built into our systems in order to alert us to a hazardous condition and to rouse us to those measures necessary for the maintenance of our health.