W. C. Fields : his follies and fortunes (1949)

"Beg your pardon," said Fields. "Well, this witch doctor made up a brew out of bats' feet and missionaries' teeth and listened to my heart with a conch shell. Then he " "Come on, Bill," said the manager. "You can have a drink later. The doctor's trying to look at your chest." "Gould the patient get behind the fluoroscope again?" asked the physician. "Upshot of it was," continued Fields, "that the witch doctor turned to me and said, 'I'm sorry, but you've contracted beriberi, botts, and that dreaded of all diseases — mogo on the gogogo.' He handed me a bill for thirty-two beads and three yards of yellow ribbon." After some time the physician actually made an examination. Then he said, "Mr. Fields, have you ever had tuberculosis?" "Naw," said Fields, employing his favorite rejoinder. "My examination shows that about twenty years ago you had a very clearly defined case," the physician went on. "The extensive scar tissue proves it beyond a doubt. You're having a mild recurrence." "Well, I guess it was that incident in Edinburgh," said Fields at length. "But it healed right up. Tuberculosis is nothing to worry about. Alongside of mogo on the gogogo it " Nonplused, the physician signaled to the piano movers, who picked up the fluoroscope and they all left. Fields put his shirt back on, and Poppy proceeded as advertised. He felt all right again in a few days. There can be no doubt that the exposure and privations of his childhood had made him easy prey to tuberculosis, but after the setback during Poppy he never had any further trouble with the disease. Later in life Fields had various explanations for his singular recovery, most of them centering on whisky, a tuberculosis specific that probably would not withstand medical scrutiny. People who knew him best believe that he IOI