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My very dear David :

Letter long over-due, but I hope that what follows will explain why.

I'll not be returning to Istanbul now because my time and my money have both run out; and also, now, except for the fact that I want to see you, I've no really pressing reason to return. I'm scheduled to do a benefit for The Harlem Six in NY on August 24th and they've already sold out the hall; in addition, Ahmet has wired telling me that I'm to be best man at his wedding, which takes place on the 14th. I'll be arriving in NY a day or two before that.

This is what happened : you remember that I was ill for awhile in Istanbul and I realized in Amsterdam that I wasn't well, but I didn't want to talk about it. I went to my doctor in Paris, who prescribed this and that, pills and needles - which calmed all my symptoms but didn't change them. At the same time, trying to meet the schedule we'd outlined, I started out for Tangier - in fear and trembling, I must say, for [[underline]]that's[[/underline]] certainly no place to be ill - and got as far as Cannes. In Cannes I learned that the American government had forbidden Americans to go to Morocco. Well. I thought of defying the travel ban, but decided it would be wiser not to - I must say, in view of Stokeley's performance around the world these days, I'm very glad I made that decision. But the whole world seemed closed to me. I couldn't go to Greece, obviously, as I'd thought I might; at great expense, I'd already cancelled the Russian trip - thank God; I didn't really want to return to Istanbul before you got there, I had [[underline]]had[[/underline]] Istanbul; and I knew I wasn't ready for NY. For these reasons, no doubt, and many more, my chills and nausea and diarhea returned, and I went to the doctor who had taken care of me down here a couple of years ago. I must tell you that I was very frightened, for no two doctors seemed to agree as to what was wrong with me and no doctor had been able to help me. The doctor down here took blood tests, which revealed absolutely nothing - I didn't have syphilis, didn't have the clap - and gave me more needles which had the effect of making my behind sore but had no other effect whatever. Well. I thought : cancer, and death within forty-eight hours. I'm joking now, but it wasn't funny then. Finally, I was sent to a specialist. I said, I don't think it's an infection at all. I think something is growing inside me. And he examined me and he agreed; put me in the hospital the very same day; and operated that night. The next day he showed me what they'd taken out of me - a hideous cyst, as hard as a bullet and about as big as my thumb.[[end page]]

Transcription Notes:
On review, this is page 1 of a 3 page letter spanning pages 41-43 of this collection. Should be indexed accordingly.