The Professor, Part Two
The Morrie I knew, the Morrie so many others knew, would not have been the man he was
without the years he spent working at a mental hospital just outside Washington, D.C.,
a place with the deceptively peaceful name of Chestnut Lodge.
It was one of Morrie's first jobs after plowing through a master's degree and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago.
Having rejected medicine, law, and business, Morrie had decided the research world
would be a place where he could contribute without exploiting others.
Morrie was given a grant to observe mental patients and record their treatments.
While the idea seems common today, it was groundbreaking in the early fifties.
Morrie saw patients who would scream all day. Patients who would cry all night.
Patients soiling their underwear. Patients refusing to eat, having to be held down, medicated, fed intravenously.
One of the patients, a middle-aged woman, came out of her room every day and lay facedown on the tile floor,
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