This incident took place in the distant year of 1995. At that time, I was a pupil at the Sandhurst Royal Military Academy, and in the middle of the school day, I was summoned from my lessons and told to report to the Headmasters office. Inside the headmasters grand study sat a woman. She looked deeply distressed, tears streaming down her cheeks, which she kept dabbing away with her handkerchief.
Our Headmaster was a brave man, a retired General who had seen the harshest of times during the Falklands War. He was strict, yet always fair, and though we feared him, our respect ran deep. I had never seen him quite like this before. He approached me and spoke in a resigned manner.
Son, he said, Im not speaking to you now as your superior, but as a friend. I need your help.
Im ready, I replied without hesitation. What must I do?
My nephew is gravely ill, the General continued. He finished here at Sandhurst last year, you should know him, and went on to Kings College Medical School. But something dreadful happened, and now my only hope is your grandfather. Will you help? Maybe hell agree to see the lad and understand what is wrong?
I didnt ask any unnecessary questions. Immediately, we phoned Granddad, and within fifteen minutes, we were speeding off in the Generals stately Jaguar to my grandfathers house. Luckily for us, Granddad was enjoying the first day of his holiday, and we caught him just half an hour before he was off to his cottage in the countryside.
The patient travelled with us. Though I had known the young man personally, I didnt recognise him at all. His eyes were hollow, his gaze wild and vacant. It felt as if he was lost in a void, and I must admit, it was rather unsettling.
We arrived swiftly. After climbing up to the flat, Granddad greeted us and listened to the tearful womans account.
Seven months earlier, her son had started at medical school, when he suddenly suffered a fit right in the middle of a lecture. He was admitted to hospital, examined from head to toe, but nothing was found. No sooner did they release him, than he had another fit. Then another, and another… Nobody could understand what was happening. The familys last hope was my grandfather, one of the finest specialists in the country for neurology and psychiatry.
What happened next was the most curious part. Granddad took the young man to his room, and after just fifteen minutes, came back alone.
Thats it. You can go home now, he said to the lads mother and the General, with a calm, even tone.
But what about my son? Doesnt he need treatment? the woman cried.
Go home. Were headed to my cottage in Devon. I need someone to split logs for the fireplace, and itd be a shame to waste a strapping young fellow like this, Granddad answered.
After a bit of fuss, he sent us on our way and set off with his new patient to the countryside.
A month later, the General summoned me to his office again. There sat the same woman, now beaming with a broad smile. Beside her stood the once stricken patient. He looked entirely changed, with no trace of illness left. He came over, shook my hand, and thanked me heartilyand so did the General. The young man, whom no one seemed able to help, was completely restored in less than a month. To them, it was nothing short of a miracle. Little did they know how many such miracles Granddad had achieved over his life.
Later, I asked what had truly happened to the young lad. It turned out that the sheer mental strain of Kings Colleges demanding curriculum had caused a breakdown. His mind was so overloaded with information that it simply shut itself off from absorbing any more. Granddad saw this at once, and ordered a complete switchno medication, just good, honest labour. He whisked him off to the country, set him to work splitting firewood all day, and offered nothing but physical exertion and restful country air. Each morning, the lad would rise at eight, take a brisk cold wash, enjoy breakfast, and spend his days cleaving logs. This continued almost a month, with only breaks for lunch and supper. Granddad kept him so busy with work that by evening, hed tumble into bed and sink into a deep, healing sleep. In time, his mind fully recovered, refreshed and working better than before.
Throughout the treatment, Granddad never gave him a single pillonly hard, honest work.
And thats how this remarkable story unfolded, still vivid in my memory even after all these years.
