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In the summer vacation of the year 189- I made an excursion into the Hohe Tauern1 so that for a while I might forget medicine and more particularly the neuroses. I had almost succeeded in this when one day I turned aside from the main road to climb a mountain which lay somewhat apart and which was renowned for its views and for its well-run refuge hut. I reached the top after a strenuous climb and, feeling refreshed and rested, was sitting deep in contemplation of the charm of the distant prospect. I was so lost in thought that at first I did not connect it with myself when these words reached my ears: ‘Are you a doctor, sir?’ But the question was addressed to me, and by the rather sulky-looking girl of perhaps eighteen who had served my meal and had been spoken to by the landlady as ‘Katharina’. To judge by her dress and bearing, she could not be a servant, but must no doubt be a daughter or relative of the landlady's.
Coming to myself I replied: ‘Yes, I'm a doctor: but-how did you know that?’
‘You wrote your name in the Visitors' Book, sir. And I thought if you had a few moments to spare… The truth is, sir, my nerves are bad. I went to see a doctor in L—about them and he gave me something for them; but I'm not well yet.’
So there I was with the neuroses once again—for nothing else could very well be the matter with this strong, well-built girl with her unhappy look. I was interested to find that neuroses could flourish in this way at a height of over 6,000 feet; I questioned her further therefore. I report the conversation that followed between us just as it is impressed on my memory and I have not altered the patient's dialect.2
‘Well, what is it you suffer from?’
‘I get so out of breath. Not always. But sometimes it catches me so that I think I shall suffocate.’