With a view to the exaltation of the condition of the entire organism, as well as simply that of the digestive and assimilative system—and in addition to the reform already suggested as to clothing, i.e., a reduction in the number and weight of garments habitually worn, when these have been superabundant,—I would say to all classes, sick or well, that great advantage will be derived from habituating themselves to transient exposure of the entire surface of the body to the air. Often enough, we observe persons sitting heavily clad, in a warm room and close to the fire, and yet feeling “shivery” and sure of having “caught cold.” To throw off all clothing would banish such chills instanter, especially if the person begins to give himself a brisk hand-rubbing. The skin is sweltered, and is numb for want of circulation in the capillaries. In the case supposed the person has prevented a “cold.” Next to the water-bath, which is, of course, or ought to be, an air-bath and water-bath combined, the simple air-bath is invaluable as a prophylactic or a curative; and in very
many instances, say for several mornings in each week, and whenever the usual water-bath is not convenient, the air-bath will prove an excellent substitute. In place of dodging from the sweltering bed into his heavy day-clothing, the robust man will be far more likely to maintain his vigorous condition by doffing his night-shirt and indulging for the space of, say, five minutes or less, in brisk hand-rubbing all over, however cold his sleeping-room, and again on going to bed; while the delicate ones should, with due caution, inaugurate the same system (some will-power has to be exerted), but graduated, as to temperature and duration, to their special conditions—advancing as their physical condition improves under its influence until they are no longer members of that immense army—the victims of “aërophobia.” Patients themselves too weak for even the exercise of self-rubbing will still derive great benefit from the air-bath, in a temperature, say, of 65°, with an attendant to rub them briskly from neck to heels. Set in practice in a rational manner this custom will never injure the most delicate person, but on the contrary will always prove beneficial. It will not bring the dead to life, nor, indeed, “cure” the moribund; but it is one of Nature’s most efficient aids—it is Nature herself, in very truth—and I have seen patients who were thought to be hopelessly ill, begin to take on what seemed to be renewed life, largely through this new use of fresh air, and the dismissal of the unnatural dread of it. For example:
CHRONIC DYSPEPSIA CURED BY FASTING AND FRESH AIR.
A patient, Mrs. T., of New Hampshire, a very bright lady indeed, and one who appreciated the necessity of fresh air, had yet, through a very deep decline, in addition to a life-long invalidism, become hyper-sensitive to cold, wrapping and over-wrapping to guard against chilliness, fearful of the least current of air. Both relatives and friends were discouraged as to her recovery—it even being urged, after I had taken the case, that if, as it seemed, there were no hopes of her getting well, she ought to have some “medicine to ease her pathway to the grave.”[56] This was in the month of October of the year 1882, when she came under my care. I induced her to leave off eating, since eating was particularly disagreeable, and only served to keep up the chronic inflammation of the entire digestive and neighboring viscera, causing her a great deal of suffering and threatening her with starvation. [Referring to her first letter (written by her sister), describing her condition, I find such expressions as these: “My physician, who feared heart disease, as my mother and one sister had died of it, becoming alarmed at my symptoms, desired
a consultation, and Dr. ——, Professor of Cardiac Diseases at —— —— College Hospital, was called. He said heart was all right, but lungs weak. I was well drugged, but when they stuffed me on cod-liver oil and beefsteak I would have inflammation of the stomach and liver and, of course, grew worse, with such a terrible ache at the base of my brain.... Was brought to N. H. (from Brooklyn, N. Y.) in May, and had congestion of the liver shortly after. My physician, here, ordered iron and strychnine, but it did no permanent good. All my friends say I am starving to death, and unless you can advise me, I fear that I shall, for I am terribly emaciated even now.... My æsophagus, stomach, and liver are in an irritated condition,... am sore all over,—can not sleep at night; have taken chloral by physician’s advice. My flesh has a yellow-purple color—arms and hands grow quite purple at times,” etc., etc.] I directed her to throw away her medicine—iron and strychnia, aconite and chloral—bottles and all,—as the first step, telling her that whether she was to live or die, she should be made more comfortable without, than with medicine. For the exhausted digestive organs, I directed entire rest, as before stated; and for seven days she swallowed nothing but cool or hot water.[57] For the first three or four days many of her symptoms increased in severity—not a bad sign. At the same time I succeeded in removing from her mind the dread of air-currents, improving the ventilation of both the sleeping and sitting room, and she, furthermore, begun the system of air-bathing
here enjoined. On the seventh day she reported by letter that she felt as though something “more nourishing than water would be very acceptable,” that she had some very nice pears and Delaware grapes, and would like to try them. I directed her to take a breakfast of fruit every morning; and, at night, a dinner of two or three unleavened gems (made from unsifted wheat-meal and mixed stiff with cold water), with a very little fruit, and a cupful of skimmed milk (no butter, cream, or any kind of animal fat), beginning with a single gem; the milk to be taken last, by itself, and each swallow to be held for a moment in the mouth. Under this treatment she is making excellent progress—not rapid and fictitious, as we often enough witness under a stimulating regimen, but a real, natural growth healthward. She rides out in all weathers, walks a mile or two every day to and from the neighbors, aids in the work about the house, and on December 9th, about two months after she began the “natural cure,” she reports by postal as follows: “I am still on the hygienic tack and growing stronger, though I still have some aches to assure me that I am mortal. I ‘sleep beautifully,’ with window open in all weathers. I enjoy my air-baths every morning in the hall (a portion of the time), with the mercury at zero!” (She is now in robust health.)
[56] Her disease was chronic dyspepsia: the stomach was so irritable that it could seldom retain anything—at least a portion of even the smallest ordinary ration would be ejected—the liver was very much congested and enlarged; the bowels were obstinately constipated; there was extreme emaciation, and but little strength, though, generally, great good nature and cheerfulness in spite of her ailments. Had been taking chloral for wakefulness, and iron and strychnine as a tonic. She took no medicine after becoming my patient.
[57] See note 3 in Appendix, p. [279].
Benjamin Franklin had observed the invigorating effects of this practice and would often, in moderate weather, rise from bed in the morning and, entirely nude, write for an hour or more, and then dress for breakfast. When wakeful at night, the great philosopher