|
Dr. Stark suggested to me that I bring Homer to the insane asylum for a visit and have Mr. Conlon, the Superintendent, show him the unfortunates whose minds and bodies had been ruined by the insidious vice of masturbation. All of my and Dr. Stark's efforts thus far had failed to break Homer of his masturbation habit in which he indulged to great excess. Homer was evasive about the actual frequency of his undulgence, but it was clear that he abused himself several times each day, thus imperilling his health, sanity, and even life itself. Homer insisted that he felt fine and was suffering from no ill effects. If he believed this, it was self-deception, for, at 16, he was gaunt, haggard-looking, extremely nervous, given to twitches and tics, and subject to vertigo and faintness. Bromid of potash, 10 gr. administered twice daily afforded some purely symptomatic relief, but, as long as Homer continued to masturbate, no real improvement could be expected. Dr. Stark sent Mr. Conlon a note asking that he show us the inmates whose sanity and health had been destroyed by masturbatory excess. When we arrived at the State Hospital for the Insane at 9:00 on a Wednesday morning, Mr. Conlon was prepared for our visit and welcomed us solicitously. Upon meeting Homer, he remarked "It would be a shame if this fine young man were to be reduced to the miserable state of the wretches you are about to meet through inability to conquer an unhealthy habit. Homer blushed and cast down his eyes. Exhibit 1. was a still-handsome young man in his twenties who was strapped into an invalid chair with a towel in his lap. One side of his face was slack and his bright blue eyes were devoid of any expression of awareness or intelligence. His right hand was under the towel and constantly in motion. Mr. Conlon explained that this poor mindless wretch had been a brilliant young lawyer who had had a promising career ahead of him until he was found in his bed one morning unable to speak or move, with his virile member in his hand and stuck to his fingers with dried semen. "He was struck down by apoplexy whilst indulging in the unwholesome pleasure of onanism. As you can see, he has been reduced to a state of idiocy. Yet, he has, even now, not abandoned the vice which ruined him." With that, Mr. Conlon removed the towel from the young man's lap, revealing that he was pulling and stroking his flaccid member. "Of course, he can't do it now, having been castrated, or he would doubtless have had another shock and died." Mr. Conlon replaced the towel, restoring that modesty with which the patient was no longer capable of being concerned. The next wretched idiot was very young, probably younger than Homer. He was strapped firmly into a chair, wracked with spasms and drooling incessantly. He mouthed unintelligible sounds which seemed to bear no resemblance to human speech. His hospital gown stood tented up over his groin and he rocked back and forth in the chair, apparently trying to rub his rigid member between his thighs. "He doesn't have much use of his hands, but, when we put him to bed, he tries to take hold of it and abuse himself. His family won't let us castrate him, so he is still in the grip of the habit which destroyed him.He tried to commit sodomy on his little brother just before the blood vessel bursted in his brain." Homer was feeling faint and asked to sit down for a few minutes. After a while, he felt well enough to see more horrible examples of the harm done by masturbation. The third miserable ruin was bedridden. Mr. Conlon explained that this young man could be cured by castration, but his parents opposed it on religious grounds. The patient, perhaps 20 years of age, appeared exhausted and Homer could smell a strong odor of semen. "He has spermatorrhoea". said Mr. Conlon." Every movement of the body is accompanied by an involuntary discharge of semen . This keeps him in a constant state of exhaustion." Drawing Homer aside, out of the patient's earshot, Mr. Conlon confided in a low voice "He's not long for this world. Every morning, I expect to find him dead in his bed." In this patient's case, it was stopping too abruptly after years of extremely frequent masturbation which induced this fatal condition."How frequent ?" asked Homer. "Five times every day." replied Mr. Conlon. Homer blanched. Next, Mr. Conlon showed Homer and me a man who, at first, looked the picture of health. He was a large robust man in early middle age, perhaps 40 years of age. After a few minutes of talking with him, two things became apparent. The man was blind and he did not remember anything which had been said to him only a minute or so before. He was married and the father of three children whom he could no longer recognize by their voices or even if they told him who they were. His wife was nonplussed by his sudden loss of sight and memory and astonished to learn from the family's physician that her husband had been under treatment for excessive masturbation for 22 years. He had never been able to break the habit, but had steadfastly denied that it was a health problem, insisting that he felt fine. I hoped that Homer was paying close attention to that. A childish but affable imbecile was introduced to us next. Both Homer and I were astonished to learn that he had once been an architect, a learned and highly intelligent man. Whilst giving a lecture on a building which he had designed, he suddenly reeled and began talking nonsense. The physician who examined him after his attack of apoplexy inferred from the varicosity of the veins of his virile member and the presence of clearly long-established varicocele in his scrotum that he was apparently a secret chronic masturbator. Mr. Conlon asked him if he "played with himself" and he replied "Dahhhhh, sure. It feels good. Well, it used to, anyhow, 'til the doctor cut my balls off. Now it don't feel half as good." Mr. Conlon remarked "You'll notice that he doesn't hesitate to talk about things like that. He's like a child. He has no discretion and will talk about his bowel movements at length and in great detail." The last ruined masturbator whom Mr. Conlon showed to us was totally mindless. He could not speak or move and was obviously totally unaware of his surroundings. He had to be spoon-fed and assisted to use the chamber pot. Though he appeared older, he was only twenty-five years old. A successful business man, he had married at twenty-four. On his wedding night, his brain exploded in a massive, but amazingly non-fatal stroke of apoplexy. After his committment to the asylum, his brother found in his diary accounts of an eleven-year struggle with excessive masturbation which he practised 7 to 8 times daily. Had he confided in his physician, he would surely have been advised not to marry unless and until he had been cured of the habit. Adding the amorous indulgences of marriage to the strain of such frequent masturbation was the "straw that broke the camel's back." We gratefully took our leave of Mr. Conlon and I opined that Homer had been given much to think about. Surely this experience would suffice to inspire a successful effort to overcome the masturbation habit. Homer was very quiet during the ride home, pondering all that he had seen and heard at the asylum. Homer was quiet during supper also and retired early to his room. After about a half hour, I suddenly heard a cry of pain from Homer's room. I rushed to the door but found it locked. I knocked frantically and shouted "Homer, are you alright ?" After a couple of minutes, the door opened . Homer stood there, without his trousers and drawers and with blood running down his thighs. Clutched in his left hand were his severed testicles and in his right hand his bloody hunting knife. Homer toppled forward and I caught him and lowered him gently into a chair beside the door. His mother, Rose, screamed when she beheld his condition, but then, gathering her wits about her, fetched a towel to stanch the blood and snapped "Well, Leander, what are you standing there for ? Get Dr. Stark." I hitched up our gelding, Mosey, to the buggy and rode h-ll for leather to Dr. Stark's office and fetched him. He was able to cauterize the dreadful wound and bandage it. As we put Homer to bed, he whispered to me "Well, father, I'm cured." |