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Reichenau, August 29, 1894
Dearest friend,
Now this is really too much; are you going to dissolve completely into pus on us? The devil with having surgery again and again; just be done with it once and for all. So that old woman1 who did not like your headaches years ago, and who wrote that peculiar letter to me, was actually quite right! But what should I do about it? I wish I were a “doctor,” as people say, a physician and a great healer so that I could understand such matters and would not have to leave you in strange hands in such circumstances. Unfortunately I am not a doctor, as you know. I must rely on you in this as in everything else; I must hope that you also know how to treat yourself and that you can be as successful in your own case as in those of others (myself included).
It is not nice either that as a result of this our meeting will fall through. A temporary hope leaves me with an unfulfilled claim.
I am not at all eager to go to Lovrano, but Martha, who otherwise so rarely desires anything, this time insists on the trip and on undertaking it in this way. It also spoiled her pleasure very much that Lovrano and our meeting are thus falling to pieces. Besides, I think that if I can be of any service to you, you should test me and see whether I can find the way from Lovrano to Munich. My conscience is searching for some such offer to pacify itself, while I am now anticipating pleasure.
So we shall leave on September 1, Saturday evening, and hope to be in Lovrano, Pension Pankaus,2 on Sunday morning. Now, however, I must again assume that you are quite fit and rid myself of the accumulation of scientific matters.
I have collected only a few cases this Monday: