under a variety of names--such as nervous, putrid, gastrionic, brain
fever, &c.; while the people of this vicinity, designate it by the
name of slow fever, which, in my opinion, is about as descriptive of
the disease as any above mentioned. It is most prevalent during the
winter and spring. Patients are variously affected during the first
stages of the disease. Some are taken with a chill, while others are
not conscious of any such sensations, but merely complain of loss of
strength and appetite; others complain of pain in their head and back.
I have seen some take to their beds, and declare that nothing was the
matter with them, and would insist on the correctness of their absurd
opinions for several days. The pulse soon becomes small and frequent,
the skin hot and dry, while insufferable thirst continually torments
the sufferer. Patients frequently manifest a strong propensity to
sing, while laboring under it, yet they seldom complain of pain, though
delirium be constantly present, and the bowels morbidly sensitive to
firm pressure. I have seen patients die without complaining of pain,
and yet, on making post mortem examination, satisfactory evidence was
furnished that inflammation of the brain, the lungs, and the mucuous
membrane of the bowels, were present. These inflammations, therefore,
constitute some of the complications of this disease, while a lack of
sensibility, points to an obtunded condition of the nervous system.
Ordinarily, for four or five days, the disease does not assume an
aggravated appearance, during which time the fever has a remitting
form; but shortly after this, if the patient is not relieved, the
fever becomes continued; and now begin to rise gradually all the worst
symptoms of typhoid fever; the tongue, which at first was white, or
of a yellowish brown color, now becomes black, dry in the centre,
and cracked; the patient soon falls into a deep coma, and delirium
is almost constantly present. Twitching of the muscles of the face,
subsultus-tendinum, and floccillation, are symptoms which generally
attend this disease.
BATHING.
Somebody has said, that God gives shower baths to every thing that
will stay out doors. A very significant hint, this, to human bipeds;
it seems very strange that we are such dull scholars, in this world.
We see the fevered earth parch, and burn, and fail of its fruits, till
the refreshing rain comes down and cures it; and we never once think,
when our blood boils, our flesh burns, and our skin parches with fever,
that the same blessed medicine that is poured out on the earth, will
heal us; or, if men get a little theoretical faith of this kind, they
lose it as soon as they become sick. Early superstition, of all kinds,
generally come upon men with peculiar force, when they are weakened and
confused by illness.
There is no more invigorating process for preserving health, after the
inhaling of pure air, than the daily use of the cold bath. The bath is
not useful alone because it removes impurities from the skin; but the
fresh, sparkling water, has an absolute life in it, which we receive.
And this is the reason why the bath is so much more useful, when the
water is just drawn from the fountain, than when it is suffered to
stand, and lose its living, or electrical properties.
The best time to take a bath is in the morning, when we rise. No one
should take a cold bath, as if he were lazily doing an unpleasant duty;
and no one can do it long. Beginners with the bath, should observe
the following directions: Bathe the head and face first; bathe the
rest of the body thoroughly and quickly; then use much friction--first
with a towel, and then with the hand, or a soft brush; this should be
continued until the subject is in a glow.
Some people think there are so many difficulties in the way of bathing,
that they cannot overcome them, and they believe they must, perforce,
be like the dirty representative to an eastern legislature, who
boasted that he had not bathed for fifteen years! Let us look at these
difficulties, and we shall find that “where there is a will there is a
way.” Anybody, that is anybody, can surely get a bowl of water, and a
sponge, or towel; with these, he can take a thorough washing, and, if
he has any energy, he can rub the body in a glow with a brush, a hand
towel, or the hand.
There is no preventive of colds equal to this simple process, repeated
every morning. It makes a man feel clean, bright, and respectable.
The use of warm baths, except in particular cases of illness, is
mischievous; they weaken the skin, and expose the person who takes
them, to attacks of colds and influenza. Still, the occasional use of
warm baths for cleaning the skin, is better than to allow the skin
to be dirty. Shower baths are useful in cases where there is high
health, or general inflammation; where there is full reactive power
they are safe, and not otherwise; where they induce a chill, they are
very hurtful. The indiscriminate recommendation of the shower bath,
is always an evidence of very partial knowledge. The sponge bath is
probably more universally beneficial, and is safer than any other bath.
HERB TEA.
Mr. N. had been married but a few weeks, and his bride was a lovely
and accomplished lady. Her health was perfect; she had never known, by
personal experience, what sickness is, and they were looking forward
to the future with the most sanguine expectations of happiness. But
disappointment is written upon all earthly hopes, and Mr. N. was not to
be an exception from the general rule. His wife was suddenly taken with
cholera. The family physician was called in, and did what he could to
arrest the disease. But she continued to grow worse, and a council of
doctors was called, to consult measures for her relief.
Mrs. N. had requested that a friend of hers, who had long been employed
in nursing and doctoring those who had confidence in her--a lady
of great talent and education in the art of curing with roots and
herbs--to call in and see her. As this lady approached the house, and
saw the carriages of the physicians, she became alarmed for the safety
of her friend; but when she entered the house, the silence and sadness
that reigned in that once happy mansion, sent a chill to her heart.
Soon the doctors came out, one by one, and silently left the house. Mr.
N. did not inquire their opinion of the condition of his wife--he could
read it in their looks. After all had gone but the attending physician,
Mr. N. and the nurse, Mrs. T., entered the room, where the patient
lay, apparently in the last stage of the disease. The doctor rose from
his seat beside the bed; as Mr. N. advanced and inquired, “Is there no
hope?” he could hardly command his voice to tell that afflicted man,
that his wife must die; and his gushing tears spoke his sympathy with
the sufferer.
Mrs. T. looked for a moment upon the unconscious form of her friend,
then, turning to the doctor, said,
“Tell me, my dear sir, can you do nothing more for this woman?”
He shook his head, and then turned away.
“Then you are willing,” she continued, “I should do what I can to make
her more comfortable while she lives?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. N.
“Certainly,” repeated the doctor. “If you can do anything for her
comfort, do it, for she cannot stay with us long.”
As he said this, he left the house, and Mrs. T. applied herself to her
task. She directed the friends to get some hot water, bricks, &c.,
while she sent a boy for some herbs; she wrote a note, and requested
him to carry it to the man with whom she had been living. He soon
returned with the articles. What she gave the patient to drink, we do
not know; but we soon saw its effects. The cold sweat was wiped from
her limbs--bottles of hot water were placed around her--a plaster was
applied to her stomach, and, in a short time, she sank into a sweet
sleep, which continued an hour or two, when she awoke, and began
to vomit. The friends were now much alarmed, and thought she must
certainly die. But the joyful expression of Mrs. T.’s countenance, told
them that she, at least, had no fears of a fatal result.
Through the day and night, the nurse continued her exertions for her
friend; and the next morning, when the kind and sympathizing doctor
came in to look at the corpse, he was very much surprised to find his
patient sitting up in bed, eating a bowl of porridge!
Turning to the nurse, he asked, “What did you give this woman?”
“_Herb tea, sir!_” she answered, in a tone of voice which forbade
further questioning.
Mrs. N. still lives, and, when her children are sick, she gives them
HERB TEA!
PREJUDICE.
AS far as I can ascertain, the present season (1857-8,) has
been a remarkable healthy one, in this portion of the west. But
scientifically, every few days, some poor sufferer is consigned to the
grave--but not until nature has disputed, most resolutely, every inch
of ground, and at last has been compelled to yield to King Calomel! It
is only a few days since, a child of ten or twelve years old was laid
away, with a part of the lower portion of its face already fallen off,
and appearances indicating that a large part of the rest would soon
have followed, had not death terminated its sufferings in mercy, and
spared its friends the anguish of beholding the farther devastations of
this most potent “remedy.” In such instances, the outraged feelings of
surviving friends, are usually quieted with the assurance that “it is
the Lord’s will;” and so these works of iniquity are saddled upon the
Supreme Arbiter of events, and He is made the scape-goat of one of the
most wicked systems that ever cursed the world.
I am sometimes perfectly confounded by the blind bigotry which
possesses the minds of those men, whose business it is to administer to
the wants of suffering humanity. It does seem as though they thought
more of conforming to the opinions of certain authors, and following
the prescribed rules of a Medical Association, than they do of the
lives of their patients. In their opposition, especially to reform in
medical practice, some of them hesitate not to endanger the life of a
fellow-being, if, by so doing, they can bring obloquy upon that system
to which they are opposed.
These are hard sayings; but I am compelled to believe them, for it is
but a short time since one of the poison-dealers tried to persuade
a patient of mine to eat unripe peaches, only two days after he had
reported him as in a very dangerous situation, with bilious fever. This
same man, was prescribing for a slight ailment in a stout individual,
who was still able to be about town and attend to his business. This
person ate some of the same kind of fruit, and thought that it injured
him. He told his physician what he had done, who broke out with an
oath, and told him he wondered it had not killed him. This shows the
estimation in which he held the fruit, which he had told my patient
would do him good. Comments, upon such an act, are unnecessary, or upon
a profession which feels itself obliged to treat with contempt, every
thing not paying homage to its mandates--no matter how much it may
promise to add to the welfare of mankind, if it cannot trace its origin
within the walls of a legalized inclosure.
Of all men, the physician should be a liberal-minded man--ever anxious
to learn all that will enable him to be of benefit to his suffering
fellow-creatures. He should never conclude that he has nothing more to
know, or that he can find all knowledge in any one system, or theory,
of practice; he should ever be ready to learn, from every body. He who
expects to find out all that can be known, in one train of reasoning,
or round of study, is like a man traveling upon a circle, who thinks,
because he can travel all his life-time upon that circle, he can
consequently visit every place that the length of his life will permit
him to visit. After a while, some one--who has learned that, in order
to extend his knowledge, he must strike out a path diverging from that
one, so long traveled--starts out accordingly in a new direction, and
finds an extent of knowledge and research, of which he never before
dreamed.
Our traveler, who thinks that the old path will lead him to all that he
can ever know, comes around to the new road. He stops, and asks, “Who
made this new track? Was it the man who marked out the one that I am
in?”
“No!” says one; “the path which you are in, tells the same old story;
this new path is a better way. Discoveries have been made in it, far
more valuable than in the one in which you are, and they have been made
by one who does not believe that your old way is perfect.”
Now see self-confidence, bigotry, and ignorance, encircling the lips of
scorn. “Fools!” says he, and he goes, muttering vengeance on the “poor
deluded fanatics!”
But this state of things cannot always remain. The light of truth is
shining, and is destined to dispel the clouds of mystery, which have so
long covered the pathway to the grave, of millions of our fellow-men.
Men of intellect, science, and humanity, are engaged in this good
cause, and, so sure as “truth is mighty,” it must prevail. In order,
however, to the accomplishment of this desired event, physicians
must be men of principle, and adhere firmly to that which they know
to be right. In the practice of some, there is too much disposition
to accommodate the taste and prejudice of the patient, even at his
expense. I was talking with a physician not long since, who advocated
the practice of making medicine to suit the taste of the patient.
Instead of accommodating his desire too much, in a matter about which
he cannot be a judge, the physician should take that course which will
be most likely to cure him speedily, though the remedy be not quite
so palatable; there should be no tampering with his whims, to the
prolonging of his disease.
This principle cannot be too deeply impressed upon the mind of every
one, while he is receiving his medical education; for the triumph of
our cause, and the rescuing of suffering humanity from the iron grasp
of medical tyranny, depend upon the integrity of our practitioners, and
their strict adherence to the true principles of practice. In the name
of Humanity, let us not fall into the same vortex of quackery, which
characterizes the practice against which we war!
RHEUMATISM--ITS CAUSES.
A PECULIAR acid, in rheumatic complaints, is now generally admitted to
secrete, or accumulate, in the system; and, though this acid is found
to pervade the entire body, yet this form of disease has been thought
to be rather a local complaint--that the joints, or parts affected, are
particularly in fault, and the remedies used are to be of a local, and
external character; or, if general, are particularly to act on the seat
of the pain.
The more we study the human frame, and become familiar with the
organism of the human body, the more convinced we are that, whenever
one organ or function of the system is deranged, all others feel its
effects. In rheumatism, therefore, we have always discovered that the
stomach and liver are diseased; these notions we have had very well
substantiated by many. The internal irritation, renders the nutritive
energy of certain parts at the periphery, (namely, the fibrous sheaths
and covering of the muscles,) feeble, and their power of resisting
external causes of disease, deficient. When cold and damp, therefore,
are applied to the skin, the blood is driven thence toward the parts
most ready, from their want of organic energy, to retain it, and
least able to resist its flow. Those parts are the tissues which
have been most violently employed--the tissues connected with the
organs of voluntary motion, and the fibrous tissues of the muscles
and joints. In some persons, these tissues are congenitally weak, the
hereditary predisposition exists, and there is morbid sympathy always
existing between them and the centre of nutrition. The laboring man who
keeps his stomach and liver in a constant state of irritation, with
spirituous drinks--who uses his voluntary muscles hard and long every
day, and is exposed to all kinds of weather, is the most eligible,
and the most frequent victim of rheumatism; for in him the condition
of the stomach, the limbs, and the exciting cause, meet in all their
strength. Hence, in places where perry and cider abound, the peasantry
are especially subject to rheumatism.
Why the rheumatism seizes one joint or set of muscles, more than
another, we know not, positively; but we do know, that more or less
digestive derangements are present at the time. I never saw a rheumatic
attack, in which such derangements were not present, previously to its
commencement. How often does it happen that a patient, racked with pain
is instantly relieved by a copious vomiting of bile, or by a common
diarrhœa.
We come to the conclusion, then, that rheumatism is not a mere
inflammatory pain of the sheaths of the muscles, but has its origin
in some digestive irritation--exhibited by a certain kind and amount
of fibrous inflammation, and this may be caused by the circulation of
this acid blood, in its passage through the minute cappillaries of the
joints and tendons, since nothing but the white and thin blood can
pass through the circulation of the tendons and ligaments. Perhaps
this blood may be almost entirely of an acid character; it has no red
particles, and may lack those qualities which render it subservient to
nutrition and assimilation.
If this view of the subject is correct, we readily perceive how the
bleeding, cupping, leeching, and blistering processes, tend directly
to weaken the energy of the organs, and render them more liable to
distension and congestion.
A peculiar odor also arises from the patient, which I have thought
quite symptomatic of the disease, while the evacuations are thin,
dark, watery, and extremely offensive. The eruption on the skin I have
observed, but am not able to say whether or not it is present in all
cases; I have never been able to see it in negroes, neither do I know
whether it is perceptible at all in such subjects, but I am inclined
to the opinion that it is not. The eruption, as I have observed, is
various in appearance. It consists of small, rosy blotches, of a
roundish, or lenticular shape, scarcely, if at all, raised above the
general surface of the skin on which they appear.
I have observed another eruption in this disease, called “petechiæ.”
This eruption is most perceptible on the chest, and interior part of
the arms. There is still another eruption which I have frequently
observed, but it is not peculiar to this disease; I have also often
observed it in other forms of disease. It makes its appearance about
the neck, and the eruption varies in size, from a mere point to that of
half a pea, and is filled with a transparent fluid; it looks not unlike
large and small drops of dew, scattered about over the neck; this
eruption I have often observed on negroes.
Shortly after the termination of the disease, and sometimes even before
its termination, the skin commences desquamating. This desquamation
is particularly apt to take place on the inner surface of the hands,
and bottoms of the feet; the hair also frequently falls off, and even
the nails are sometimes shed. Patients recovering from this disease,
frequently have a numbness of the arms or legs, which sometimes amounts
to a complete paralysis.
Abscesses often form about the thigh, leg, or some other part, which
burrow in the inter-muscular substance, and are very hard to cure.
THE INFLUENCE OF OPIUM.
MRS. N. was the wife of a clergyman of high standing in the
denomination to which he belonged. She was a worthy woman, and, as
things are viewed by finite eyes, deserved a better fate than it was
her fortune to meet. Some years previous to my acquaintance with
her, she had a severe illness, and opium was freely prescribed,
notwithstanding the opposition of her husband to its use. Being
naturally of a nervous temperament, he feared that she would find it
hard to relinquish a powerful stimulant, if she once became accustomed
to its use. On her recovery, his fears were fully realized; for some
time, she continued to take her daily dose; but at length her husband
felt that the habit must be broken up, or her usefulness would be
entirely destroyed. It would never do to have the parson’s wife an
opium-taker, and he told her that she must give it up, for he should
not get her any more.
As soon as she had used up what she had on hand, she was seized with
vomiting and diarrhœa, which continued for one day, when she began
to grow cold. Through the following night, the chills continued to
increase, and toward morning she was taken with fainting. She could not
retain a particle of food, or anything else, except brandy and water,
on her stomach. By daylight, her strength was nearly exhausted, and
she looked more like a corpse than a living person. It was a serious
question with her husband, whether he should not send and get her some
opium; but, as he was obliged to leave home on business, he resolved to
wait until his return, and see if she would not get along without it.
As soon as he was gone, she took a full dose of brandy, and then
started to go to the doctor’s house, which was but a short distance.
She knew the doctor’s wife would supply her with what she wanted; but
she did not dare to send one of her children, for she knew that they
partook too much of their father’s spirit. She succeeded in reaching
the door, and then fainted. The doctor’s wife, being aware of the real
state of things, soon found means to relieve her, and she returned
home, comparatively comfortable.
When her husband returned home, he was rejoiced to find her so much
better, and he remarked that, as she had now began to amend without
opium, he hoped she would not be compelled to use it again. This was a
damper to her spirits, for which she was not quite prepared, as she had
not thought of the results of her deception. But she was unwilling to
mar her husband’s happiness by telling him the truth; so she permitted
him to believe that she was, in reality, dispensing with the accustomed
stimulus.
Months passed away, and she continued the secret indulgence. At length,
the doctor and his wife suddenly left home, and she was again in great
trouble. No opium could she get, without the assistance of her husband;
and to acquaint him with her real condition, was not to be thought of.
For two days she was very sick, and her husband thought she would die.
A physician was called, but was desired not to give opium, lest she
should again be brought under its influence. His prescription did her
no good, and, finding she must die as she was, she requested to have a
friend sent for, to whom she revealed her secret.
This woman was one of the few who have the moral courage to do right.
Fearless of consequences, she went immediately to Mr. N., and told him
of the apparent danger of one so dear, and finally procured what was
wanted, for that time; but no entreaties could induce him to purchase
a quantity, to keep in the house. What should she do now? Her eldest
son was just married, and his wife was a kind, affectionate daughter,
and a good nurse; she understood the cause of her mother’s suffering,
but could not comprehend why the remedy was so cruelly withheld. She
resolved to provide it herself, little suspecting what terrible results
would follow such kindness.
Mrs. N. had given up in despair, and resigned herself to what seemed
inevitable death, when her son’s wife came in with a largo bottle of
laudanum in her hand, and presented it to her. She received it with
that joy which can never be expressed by words, or in any degree
comprehended, by one who has not passed through the horrible suffering
which opium prepares for its victims.
Again she was able to fill her place as a pastor’s wife, and for
many years she continued her course of deception, on which she had
almost unconsciously entered. But it could not always last; her health
declined--her mind became more and more feeble, until it seemed as
though her intellectual faculties were almost destroyed. As the
disease increased, she increased her use of opium, until she found
herself in the iron grasp of consumption! Still, she thought opium
would eventually relieve her, if she only took enough. With this idea,
she one day swallowed a powerful dose. Worn out nature could no longer
contend with so potent an enemy, and was on the point of giving up the
contest. She became alarmed; a physician was called--the cause of the
trouble and all the long train of deception brought to light. Much
blame was cast upon the kind-hearted daughter-in-law, and much did she
regret the deplorable results of her mistaken kindness.
The old doctor, who had been her friend and medical adviser for years,
was now dead, and his place was filled by his son, who had little
sympathy with such as voluntarily give themselves up to what he
considered a sinful indulgence. He thought that, by breaking up this
pernicious habit, he could again restore her to comfortable health. Her
husband and daughter feared that she had not strength to survive the
loss of her accustomed stimulus; but the doctor assured them that there
was no danger--that the change in her habits should be gradual, and
that, when once out from under its influence, she would not feel the
need of opium.
He accordingly commenced the Herculean task, which the inspired writer
truly compares to changing the Ethiopian’s skin, or the leopard’s
spots. He gave her a weak solution of morphine, with other medicines;
but it was only a trifle, compared with the large doses which she had
formerly taken. He had prescribed for her about ten days, when I called
to see her. No language can describe the unutterable anguish depicted
in her countenance! She was reduced to a mere skeleton--too weak
to roll from side to side, but every motion indicating such extreme
nervous restlessness, as would have caused her to do so, if she had
strength sufficient.