One can readily conceive the utility of a warm bath--even a cold water
bath, if the bather is robust--or a steam bath, a vapor, or a sun bath;
but the advantage of the absurdity which the nineteenth century has
introduced from antiquity, viz., the dry cupping, or pumping treatment, is
not so self-evident.
An old lady, suffering from "rheumatism, and a humor of the blood," was
persuaded to visit a "pump-doctor's" rooms.
"What's that hollow thing for?" she nervously inquired.
"That is a limb-receiver," replied the polite operator. "If the disease is
in the limb, we enclose it within this; the rubber excludes the air, and
to this faucet we affix the pump, and remove the air from the limb."
"Yes, yes; but I thought air was necessary to health; besides, I don't see
how that is going to cure the limb. Does it add anything to, or take
anything from the limb?" she inquired.
"Well--no--yes; that is, it draws the disease out from that part."
"Yes, yes; but suppose the disease is all over the person, as mine is."
"Then we place them in this," putting his hand upon an article which she
had not before discovered.
"That? Why, that looks like the case to a Dutchman's pipe, only a sight
times larger. And do tell if you shet folks up in that box," cautiously
approaching and examining it.
The operator assured her such was the case.
"Is the disease left in the box when you are done pumping? Does it really
suck all the disease into the thing by the process?" she inquired.
"Well, madam, you put your questions in a remarkable manner. But it
displaces the air around the person, and the vital principle within forces
out the disease. It is certain to benefit all diseases," he replied.
"Well, I don't see how it can, if it can't be seen. Does it act as physic,
emetic, a bath, or do the sores follow right out of the blood into the
box?"
"Neither, madam." The operator was very patient. "Just try the
limb-receiver first; then you can tell better about the whole treatment."
After much persuasion, and by the assistance of the female operator, the
old lady was seated, and the limb-receiver adjusted. Now the man in the
next room began to pump. The old lady was very nervous, and felt for her
snuff-box, and while so doing the man was still pumping. Having taken the
snuff, her mind again referred to the limb in the box, and the pressure
(suction) having naturally increased, her nervousness overcame her, and
with a scream and a bound she left the chair and rushed for the door,
dragging the receiver, which clung tight to the one limb, rather
outweighing the boot and hose of the other, drawing the gutta-percha pipe
after her, which only added to her fright, and with another scream for
"help," and "O, will nobody save me?--O, murder, murder!" she, like a
bound lion, went the length of her chain, and tumbled over in a heap on
the floor. The woman rushed from behind the screen, the man from the
pump-room, and rescued the old lady, who fled to her carriage in waiting;
and doubtless to her dying day she will continue to tell of how narrowly
she escaped "being sucked entirely through that gutta-percha pipe--only
for her having on a bustle."