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me for lunch only a few hours before. So I finally told her about the shock experiment.
    It should be emphasized, however, that the shock treatment was not painful in any manner whatsoever. I felt nothing; I had no stiffness, no bruises, no damaging aftereffects of any kind. Even the temporary loss of certain memories was only silly, not frightening. Referring to the doctor’s earlier comment that this was notcomparable to sticking a finger in the electric light receptacle, my own conclusion was that the sensation from a light socket is somewhat more unpleasant.
    Afterward I really did feel calm, relaxed, somewhat more at ease than usual. And remember that the whole purpose of this experience was to achieve a relaxed state in order to determine whether in such a condition I was readily hypnotizable. But I am afraid that the effort was wasted; my hypnotist friend, Bill Moery, 5 could not work on me—I learned at the last minute—that night. Days later, when Bill ultimately got to me, I was back in the old groove at my office; those post-shock moments of tranquility were all gone.
    But if the shock treatment had been surprisingly pleasant, my next venture, the carbon dioxide treatment, provided retribution with interest. It was unexpectedly harrowing. Believe me, never again will I walk into a treatment room and ask to have a carbon dioxide mask clamped on my face. What a trial of feverish panic that was!
    I had learned about this relatively new treatment from a young psychiatrist. The two of us had been brought together through our mutual interest in hypnotism. Unfortunately the doctor had been unable to evoke any real interest in hypnotic therapy at his institution. Although he himself was using it to a limited extent, the frowns of his associates made it clear that efforts in this direction were not entirely welcome. I suppose, therefore, that we first came together to deplore the general neglect of this mighty scientific tool.
    However, the interests of this young doctor were certainly not confined to hypnosis. He intensively researched into practically every aspect of the psychiatric field, especially seeking out any new developments. There were stacks of medical journals in his apartment, and he really read them. One day he read that a type of carbon dioxide treatment was being used with some success on an imposing number of mental cases.
    Off he went, racing to the nearest hospital where he could learn more about this relatively new application. He studied the apparatus in detail, finally promoted its installation in his own hospital, and then he took the first treatment himself.
    Here I want to doff my hat to our many, many doctors who, like this young medic, are striving incessantly to find better ways to help the sick. Few of us can realize how sincerely and strenuously these weary men are grinding away at the stumbling blocks in the way to better health.
    After my medical friend took his carbon dioxide (CO2) treatment he told me about it. “It gives you a wondrously relaxed feeling,” he said.
    There was my signal again!
    I was soon maneuvering to get myself one of these CO2 treatments. If this was so “wondrously” relaxing it might be that key I was seeking to prepare me for hypnosis.
    To my surprise, no stratagems were necessary. Before I could even jockey into position, he sensed what I was up to and asked whether I would like to take one of these treatments.
    So the next day I was once again stretching out on a white table in a psychopathic hospital, this time getting instructions for the administration of a combination of 80 per cent oxygen and 20 per cent carbon dioxide.
    The doctor explained that the whole point was to inhale this gaseous mixture until passing into a coma, as it was this state of stupor which somehow always seems to result in a blissfully relaxed state afterward.
    Then I was shown the mask, which looks harmless enough; also the bottles of oxygen and carbon dioxide, the controls, and the