"Neurasthenia" by Mary Robinson (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

Neurasthenia is the old-fashioned name for what was later called ME (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) and still more recently CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome).

The poem is a rarity because it is in the voice of the patient. It is over 100 years old. But nothing has changed, as you can see from this essay by a learned doctor of the time:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2621644/pdf/jnma00852-0022.pdf

The only change has been the name which reflects what doctors currently believe to be the cause. Patients consider this to be a libel not a label - like the name "hysteria" - because it presumes too much. Doctors and Patients disagree, sometimes vehemently:

"But Scientists, who ought to know,
Assure us that is must be so...

Oh! let us never, never doubt
What nobody is sure about!"

.... Hilaire Belloc

Patients have nothing in common, except the manifestions and effects of the illness which are remarkably similar. Thay have no prior mental disposition, nor characteristic attributes. They are said to look well, they are not effete or sickly, they do not come from any particular place in society or walk of life. Farm Labourers are afflicted as frequently as Yuppies, Doctors get it as often as any other sort of Idiot.

What patients hope is that one day their voices will be heeded. And then some honest, humble scientist will start afresh without making any assumptions - except that they might be telling the truth.

The picture is of Jean-Martin Charcot, giving a lecture on hysteria in 1885. It would be indelicate to mention what caused the woman to faint. The male doctors do not appear to have have seen it before. Nor did they associate the paroxysm the woman suffered with sex - they thought it was a hysterical seizure.

I watch the happier people of the house
Come in and out, and talk, and go their ways;
I sit and gaze at them; I cannot rouse
My heavy mind to share their busy days.

I watch them glide, like skaters on a stream,
Across the brilliant surface of the world.
But I am underneath: they do not dream
How deep below the eddying flood is whirled.

They cannot come to me, nor I to them;
But, if a mightier arm could reach and save,
Should I forget the tide I had to stem?
Should I, like these, ignore the abysmal wave?

Yes! in the radiant air how could I know
How black it is, how fast it is, below?

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#Neurasthenia #ME #CFS #Chronic #Fatigue #Syndrome #Mary #Robinson

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