a slight Saxony intonation, but she had taken no special notice and, insofar as she thought anything about the way he spoke, it was how well his melodic voice went with his smoothly co-ordinated body). She suspected his remark to be more of a diversionary tactic, a way to make her relax a little. Then, he told her a story.
In Hermannstadt, where he grew up, he had cared a lot for one of his aunts who throughout his youth suffered from recurring depressions. For that reason, his parents had forbidden him to go and see her. He usually played by a small stream near their house. They called it Stinkystream because it carried so much smelly rubbish. When he was playing on its bank, he hoped all the time to find something that might cure his aunt. One day, he came across a small, white packet and brought it to her at once. The moment I took the wrapper off, my aunt burst out laughing, Jekelius said and looked straight at her. Can Nurse Anna guess what was in the packet? he asked.
She shook her head.
Lausex.
What’s Lausex?
A delousing insecticide. Given the right dosage, the contents of that packet could have killed some seven thousand people. There, I see that you’re laughing, Mrs Katschenka! And so did my aunt. She laughed so hard she could not stay upright, neither sitting nor standing. The next day, our family doctor called to tell my parents that my aunt felt much better, thanks to their son’s timely intervention. He told me, you must study medicine, Erwin! Do you knowwhat I replied? I said, then I think I’d rather become the emperor of Germany!
They laughed. And then sat together in silence. From outside came a noise as if someone quietly, discreetly, was scrunching up crisp sheets of paper. It was the sparrows dashing in and out of that dense mass of leaves. She had forgotten about them for a while.
Why do you tell me this? she finally asked.
Perhaps, he replied, because what you need is just someone to snap their fingers in front of your face – like this! – and, suddenly, the world looks different. Put it this way: to cure disease, truly to heal, doesn’t exclusively mean doing something to, or even for , the patient. The person who is ill is part of a context , and that is what must be changed: the very way we understand illness. I would be happy to discuss this further at your next appointment.
A Healer of Souls Needs No Eyes
You ask if I had a relationship with Doctor Jekelius and it makes me proud to be able to say: yes, I did, although not in the coarse sense that you might have had in mind. I had never before in my life trusted anyone as I trusted him. When I first sought him out, it felt as if I was anaesthetised, body and soul. I felt nothing if I raised my hand or touched something, as if unaware that I had a hand, and then he came along and placed his hand on mine and my sensibility came back, and the mobility of my fingers. A healer of souls needs no eyes, was what I once wrote to him after he had been wounded on the battlefield and could neither move nor see. By now, they have robbed him of everything: his body, sight, hearing, and his honour, too. But there is one thing no onecan take away from him, and that is what he did for me. He gave me my life back. Does it follow that I must also be close to him in other ways, such as politically? This is what you imply but, of course, it is not so. I knew all the time that Doctor Jekelius was a National Socialist. However, politics never meant anything to me.
*
The Vocation Anna Katschenka had known that she wanted to be a nurse ever since she was ten. That was her age when her sister died from an inherited thickening of the heart muscle. Everyone had known about her heart trouble and that it might be fatal at any moment. Anna’s sister had found it hard to keep up with the other children, and soon became breathless and had to sit down to rest. She was perfectly fine when they played what their mother called ‘quiet games’, and could
In Hermannstadt, where he grew up, he had cared a lot for one of his aunts who throughout his youth suffered from recurring depressions. For that reason, his parents had forbidden him to go and see her. He usually played by a small stream near their house. They called it Stinkystream because it carried so much smelly rubbish. When he was playing on its bank, he hoped all the time to find something that might cure his aunt. One day, he came across a small, white packet and brought it to her at once. The moment I took the wrapper off, my aunt burst out laughing, Jekelius said and looked straight at her. Can Nurse Anna guess what was in the packet? he asked.
She shook her head.
Lausex.
What’s Lausex?
A delousing insecticide. Given the right dosage, the contents of that packet could have killed some seven thousand people. There, I see that you’re laughing, Mrs Katschenka! And so did my aunt. She laughed so hard she could not stay upright, neither sitting nor standing. The next day, our family doctor called to tell my parents that my aunt felt much better, thanks to their son’s timely intervention. He told me, you must study medicine, Erwin! Do you knowwhat I replied? I said, then I think I’d rather become the emperor of Germany!
They laughed. And then sat together in silence. From outside came a noise as if someone quietly, discreetly, was scrunching up crisp sheets of paper. It was the sparrows dashing in and out of that dense mass of leaves. She had forgotten about them for a while.
Why do you tell me this? she finally asked.
Perhaps, he replied, because what you need is just someone to snap their fingers in front of your face – like this! – and, suddenly, the world looks different. Put it this way: to cure disease, truly to heal, doesn’t exclusively mean doing something to, or even for , the patient. The person who is ill is part of a context , and that is what must be changed: the very way we understand illness. I would be happy to discuss this further at your next appointment.
A Healer of Souls Needs No Eyes
You ask if I had a relationship with Doctor Jekelius and it makes me proud to be able to say: yes, I did, although not in the coarse sense that you might have had in mind. I had never before in my life trusted anyone as I trusted him. When I first sought him out, it felt as if I was anaesthetised, body and soul. I felt nothing if I raised my hand or touched something, as if unaware that I had a hand, and then he came along and placed his hand on mine and my sensibility came back, and the mobility of my fingers. A healer of souls needs no eyes, was what I once wrote to him after he had been wounded on the battlefield and could neither move nor see. By now, they have robbed him of everything: his body, sight, hearing, and his honour, too. But there is one thing no onecan take away from him, and that is what he did for me. He gave me my life back. Does it follow that I must also be close to him in other ways, such as politically? This is what you imply but, of course, it is not so. I knew all the time that Doctor Jekelius was a National Socialist. However, politics never meant anything to me.
*
The Vocation Anna Katschenka had known that she wanted to be a nurse ever since she was ten. That was her age when her sister died from an inherited thickening of the heart muscle. Everyone had known about her heart trouble and that it might be fatal at any moment. Anna’s sister had found it hard to keep up with the other children, and soon became breathless and had to sit down to rest. She was perfectly fine when they played what their mother called ‘quiet games’, and could
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