OUR STOMACHS.
In the best grades of society it is not now considered a sign of
refinement to be "delicate." When our grandmothers, and even our
mothers, were girls, robust health was esteemed almost a vulgarity.
Now, the woman who is pale and "delicate" is not an interesting
invalid, but sometimes an absolute bore. There are exceptions to this
rule of pride in _in_delicate health,--notably among the lower
classes. These people having neglected and set at defiance all
hygienic rules, feel that a mark of special distinction is set upon
them by their diseases. In fact, they "enjoy poor health," and take
all occasions to discourse to the willing or disgusted listener upon
their "symptoms," "disorders," their "nerves," and "Complaints." The
final word should be spelt with a huge C, so important a place does
it occupy in their estimation. The three D's which should be rigidly
excluded from polite conversation--Domestics, Dress and Diseases--form
the staple of their conversation. And the greatest of these is
Diseases.
A farmer's daughter, whose rosy cheeks and plump figure elicited from
me a gratulatory comment upon her robust appearance, indignantly
informed me that she was "by no means strong, and had been doctorin'
off and on for a year past for the malaria."
"Do you eat and sleep tolerably well?"
"Oh, yes," with the plaintive whine peculiar to the would-be invalid.
"I sleep dreadful heavy. I take a nap each day for a couple of hours.
And I must have a pound of beefsteak or mutton-chops for dinner. The
fever makes me _that_ hungry! You see it devours all that I eat, and
the strength of the food goes to that."
Had any one pointed out to the deluded girl the folly of her theory,
and explained that the fever patient becomes almost crazed from the
restlessness that will not allow him to sleep, and that he loathes the
very thought of food with a disgust that makes the daintiest dishes
prepared by loving hands as gritty cinders between his teeth, she
would have smiled patronizing superiority, and explained at length
that her complaint was a peculiar one,--no common, everyday illness.
With this class, stomach disorders and their attendant sufferings,
such as giddiness, shortness of breath and pain in the side, are
always attributed to cardiac irregularity. There may be a lack of
appetite and dull or acute pain following eating, and the fetid breath
arising from a disordered condition of the stomach; but they resent
the notion that their "heart disease" is dyspepsia, and would, in all
probability, discharge the physician who recommended pepsin and
judicious diet.
Perhaps the most discouraging feature of this class of persons is that
they are ignorant and obstinate in this ignorance. The opinion of all
the medical fraternity in the country would, in the farmer's
daughter's estimation, be unworthy of consideration compared with the
advice or suggestion advanced by one of her own kind. The practitioner
among the unlearned has fearful odds to contend with in trying to
bring an ignorant patient under his regimen. One word from sister,
cousin or aunt, and the invalid will cast aside the physician's
remedies, and take quarts of some patent medicine.
If you should question your laundress or cook, or your farmer's wife,
you would be appalled to discover what peculiar notions she has of
her physical make-up. It would be interesting and astounding to allow
one of these people to draw a chart of her interior machinery, as she
supposes it to be. It would bear as little resemblance to the reality
as did the charts of the ancients who antedated Tycho Brahe,
Pythagoras, and Copernicus, to the celestial charts of the nineteenth
century. One would note especially the prominence given to certain
organs. The stomach is almost, if not entirely, ignored. It is a
matter for speculation why this valuable factor of the human system
should be regarded with some disfavor by the ignorant. They joyfully
admit the existence of the heart, brain and kidneys, and even the
liver, and discourse with zestful unction on their own peculiar and
special diseases of these organs; but suggest not to them that the
stomach is out of sorts. This is not, in their estimation, a romantic
Complaint. Their specialty is Nerves. To hear the frequency with which
they attribute to these all uncomfortable sensations, one would
imagine that the victims were made by a special pattern, like the
tongue, of ends of nerves, all super-sensitive. The Nerves are a
mysterious portion of their being, to whose account everything is
laid, from extreme irritability and vexation, to nausea and
rheumatism. "My nerves are _that_ sensitive!" is a universal
complaint.
It is difficult for the average mind to grasp the reason why the
stomach, man's best friend and worst enemy, should be made of no
account, and repudiated with such indignant resentment. Surely the
giddiness occasioned by a tendency of blood to the head is no more
romantic than the dizziness induced by gaseous fermentation of matter
in the stomach. The digestive organs should and do receive vast
consideration from the medical profession. How often do we hear it
said of some man lying at the point of death that as long as his
digestive functions are duly performed there is hope; and how often,
after the crisis is past, do we learn from the jubilant doctor that
the patient's stomach was his salvation! "If _that_ had failed,
nothing could have saved him."
Let me recommend, as the pre-eminent duty of the sensible reader, care
of the stomach and the alimentary apparatus. By care I do not mean
dosing. With too many people the science of hygiene is confined in
their imagination and practice to remedial measures. Of the weightier
matters of precaution they reck nothing. Once in so often they "take a
course of physic." This is done not so much because it is needed, as
on principle, and because they have somewhere heard that it is a good
thing to do. So, although all the digestive functions may be
performing their part in a perfectly proper and regular manner, they
must be weakened and irritated by draughts which do more harm than
good.
Old proverbs are often the truest, and this may be affirmed of the
adage that "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." Do not,
if by care you can prevent it, allow your stomach to become
disordered; but if, in spite of care, it is irritated, soothe instead
of punishing it. Manage it as you sometimes control a fretful
child,--by letting it severely alone. A few hours' fasting is an
excellent remedy, and may continue until a feeling of faintness warns
you that nature needs your assistance. Then eat _slowly_ a little
light food, such as milk-toast or very hot beef-tea. Quiet and diet
work more wonders than quarts of medicine.
If your digestive organs are susceptible to disorder, be reasonably
careful about what you eat, even though you consider yourself quite
well. What a stomach has once done in the line of misbehavior, a
stomach may do again. If a pitcher has in it a tiny flaw, it may crack
when filled with boiling liquid. If you know of some article of food
which disagrees with you, _let it alone_. If you are inclined to
dyspepsia, eschew hot breads, pastry, fried or greasy food, nuts and
many sweets. Avoid becoming dependent upon any medicine to ward off
indigestion, if by care in your diet you can accomplish the same
purpose. Many dyspeptics take an inordinate amount of bicarbonate of
soda, an excellent corrective to acidity of the stomach when partaken
of occasionally, and in small portions. In some cases, large and
frequent doses have produced a cancerous condition of the coating of
the stomach, which has resulted in death. It sounds ridiculous to
speak of dependence upon soda-mint and pepsin tablets degenerating
into an incurable habit, but there are some people to whom they are as
necessary after each meal as were snuff and quids of tobacco to the
old people seventy years ago.
Nature has provided a wonderful system of drains for carrying away the
effete matter of the body. The effect caused by the neglect of these
is akin to that produced by the choking of the waste-pipes in a house.
If they become stopped, you send in haste for a plumber, that he may
correct the trouble before it causes illness. If this state of affairs
is allowed to continue in the human body, the system takes up the
poison which slowly but surely does its work.
Next to the special organs designed for this plan of sewerage, the
skin takes the most active part in disposing of impurities in the
blood. The tiny pores are so many little doors through which the
mischief may pass harmlessly away. But these pores must be kept open,
and the only way to accomplish this end is by the free use of soap and
warm water. This is such a homely remedy that it is sometimes sneered
at and often overlooked. Certain portions of the body, such as the
face and hands, are frequently washed, while other parts which are
covered by the clothing are neglected. The entire body, especially in
the creases where perspiration accumulates, should be sponged once a
day, if one perspires freely. While sponging is excellent, a plunge
bath should be frequently indulged in, as it opens the pores and
thoroughly cleanses the entire surface.
Another desideratum is exercise, regular and abundant. Housework and
walking are all that a woman needs, although she may find great
pleasure as well as benefit from horseback riding, rowing and tennis.
But let her not allow herself to tax her strength to the point of
over-weariness. The amount of sleep needed by a woman is a mooted
point, but unless she is what slangy boys term "constitutionally
tired," she should sleep enough at night to ensure her against
drowsiness in the daytime. For the elderly and feeble, an occasional
nap after the noonday meal, especially during the warm weather, will
prove most refreshing.
Try to bear in mind that you are not the only one concerned in your
health. Higginson, in speaking of the duty of girls to observe all
hygienic laws, tells us that, "unless our girls are healthy, the
country is not safe. The fate of institutions may hang on the precise
temperament which our next president shall have inherited from his
mother."