OPIATES
One of the most common signs of something at fault either with the body
or the mind is headache. Now headache, like wakefulness or nervousness,
so often associated with headache, is an effect of some error, not a
cause of it, and the wise sufferer will seek the cause even before he
treats the effect.
We call ourselves the most enlightened nation of the earth to-day, and
it is true that a little knowledge has been more generally diffused
among our people than among other peoples of the world. But we should
not forget that “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” largely
because a little knowledge frequently proves to be no real knowledge at
all. For example, the “little knowledge” generally possessed in regard
to opiates.
Coal-tar was once a waste product, but toward the end of the last
century a German chemist discovered that from it could be derived a
drug, acetanilid, which would greatly lower temperature in fever.
This discovery was hailed as a boon to humanity, and many other
by-products of coal-tar were soon placed on the market, and regarded as
of equal value with acetanilid. Physicians used them for a time without
questioning, and the people took to them gladly. Wherever there was a
persistent headache, some one of the coal-tar products was used, and
“headache powders” multiplied.
But a little further knowledge led physicians to question the
expediency of using acetanilid, phenacetin, antipyrin, or any of the
coal-tar preparations in other than exceptional cases. Heart-failure
and other dangerous results so frequently followed their use that
the wisdom of using them at all became doubtful. As our knowledge
increases, we are likely to find both the wisdom and necessity entirely
disappearing.
In the meantime, those who have heard that temporary relief from pain
may be had by using these drugs will go on using them, often in patent
medicines, ignorant of what these nostrums contain, and the number of
deaths resulting from their use continues to increase. The only way to
protect such people from the result of their little knowledge, which
is really ignorance, is by making it illegal to sell these drugs,
except by prescription from a physician, who, in turn, should be held
responsible for results.
This is, of course, an interference with the individual’s right to do
as seemeth best to him, and to get his experience in his own way.
Herbert Spencer says, “The ultimate result of shielding men from
the effects of folly is to fill the world with fools.” But it is the
same sort of interference that makes us hold a man by main force from
throwing himself on the track before an approaching train, and not the
sort that would forcibly put an overcoat on him when he did not care to
wear it. One may be no more justifiable than the other, but it seems
more excusable.
All sleeping doses are to be viewed with distrust; most of them contain
opium or morphine, some still more deadly drugs: Nature “sets up a
tolerance” for them so that, to obtain the effect, the dose must be
increased, until, if the sufferer does not retreat in time, an almost
incurable drug habit is formed, often more terrible than the liquor
habit, which it sometimes supplants. Nor do they bring true sleep.
R. Clarke Newton, in his treatise on “Opium and Alcohol,” says
“Sleeplessness means not merely unrest, but starvation of the cerebrum.
The only cause for regret in these cases is that the blunder should
ever be committed of supposing that a stupefying drug which throws the
brain into a condition that mimics and burlesques sleep can do good.
It is deceptive to give narcotics in a case of this type. The stupor
simply masks the danger. Better far let the sleepless patient exhaust
himself than stupefy him. Chloral, bromides, and the rest of the poisons
that produce a semblance of sleep are so many snares in such cases.
Sleeplessness is a malady of the most formidable character, but it is
not to be treated by intoxicating the organ upon which the stress of
the trouble falls.” The late Dr. Alonzo Clark, who for years stood at
the head of his profession as a consulting physician in New York City,
is quoted as saying, “All curative agents, so called, are poisons,
and, as a consequence, every dose diminishes the patient’s vitality.” I
doubt whether this view of drugs would be seriously contested by any of
his professional brethren of good standing.
The venerable Professor Joseph M. Smith, M.D., said: “All medicines
which enter the circulation poison the blood in the same manner as do
the poisons that produce the disease. Drugs do not cure disease.” John
Bigelow, in the “Mystery of Sleep” (p. 190), adds: “With drug-poisons
should be classed nearly, if not quite, all fermented drinks—the most
costly part of some people’s diet who indulge in them at all—coffee,
tea, tobacco, spices, and most of the constantly multiplying tonics
and condiments of the table. All of them have a tendency, directly or
indirectly, to discourage or impair sleep, and, as such, are ‘hostes
humani generis’ (enemies of the human race). Their interference with
sleep, though perhaps the most serious, is very far from being their
only pathogenetic influence.”
Mr. Bigelow then cites from Jahr’s “Manual of Medicine” the fearful
disturbances of sleep caused by fifteen drugs, all taken as samples
from the list in their order under the single letter “A.” Contrary
to the general belief, sleeplessness is more often a consequence of
insanity than a cause of it. (See Appendix A.)