THE SLOW DECLINE OF VINCENT VAN GOGH
On 24 December 1888 in Arles, a small town in southern France, young Louis Rey woke up extremely excited. It was his birthday, and as a special treat Louis was going to spend the day with his brother Félix, a junior doctor at the public hospital. Hoping to follow in his footsteps, Louis couldn’t wait to be his brother’s shadow for a whole day.
Late December was a quiet time of year at the hospital, so Louis could barely contain himself when, mid-morning, a horse-drawn ambulance rattled into the courtyard. Dr Félix Rey gave instructions for the semi-conscious man to be taken directly to the emergency room on the ground floor, and gestured for Louis to follow.
The young boy left his recollections of the patient that was treated that Christmas Eve morning: “Around his head he wore a grubby piece of cloth, like farmers do if they have toothache. Félix carefully unwrapped the cloth and I noticed that the rags were soaked with blood along one side of the head. Using hydrogen peroxide my brother carefully detached the primitive bandage which was stuck to the victim’s cheek because the blood had
