CHAPTER XXVIII.
TREATMENT OF THE SICK.
The treatment of the sick among the Laos ranks as a distinct profession. Although the Laos doctors may not have classified their knowledge of diseases in a way that we should call scientific, and although a white foreigner might be so unsolicitous of his own bodily welfare as to prefer the chance of nature to the professional skill of the whole Laos faculty, still, their system of medicine is quite an extensive one and embraces some very abstruse subjects. The Laos doctors are not required to have a diploma and do not attend any medical school, nor do they, as a rule, serve an apprenticeship; they just take to doctoring naturally. Some of them are widely known as successful general practitioners; others gain considerable notoriety in the treatment of certain diseases and become specialists of wide reputation. Some three or four medical books, treating of the mysteries of vital phenomena and learnedly elucidating the doctrine of the four elements, enrich Laos literature; these classic volumes also contain invaluable formulæ, and the doctor who is so fortunate as to own one of these books is held in high repute for his superior learning, notwithstanding he may not be able to decipher a line of it. Practically, the Laos, so far as the average doctor is concerned, have no medical treatises.
The Laos are without a definite knowledge of any of the organs or functions of the human body; no Harvey or Sylvius has ever arisen among them. All of their theories concerning the bodily functions and the four elements are merely philosophic guesses. Imagination has taken the place of reason and experiment. Speculation furnishes them with a satisfactory solution of the problem, “Why is it that instead of flesh (muscles) only, tendons are found in the human body?”
The Laos divide diseases into two classes. The first class includes all those disorders which may be considered as simply disturbances of equilibrium caused by an undue preponderance or diminution of one of the four elements—wind, fire, earth and water; the second class embraces all those more serious disorders of the human system which are due directly or indirectly to the influence of offended spirits.
The Laos materia medica embraces a considerable variety of medicines, nearly every one of which is supposed to be a specific in some disease; and, although his ideas of the medicinal qualities of these drugs may be entirely theoretical, not to say fanciful, the Laos doctor administers them just as freely as if he had experimentally demonstrated their physiological properties. The bones, teeth, blood and gall of the tiger, bear, elephant, rhinoceros and crocodile are among the most highly-esteemed remedies; besides their specific curative properties, these medicines impart the courage of the tiger, the stability, dignity and longevity of the elephant, the solemnity and tranquillity of the crocodile, the equanimity, contentment and philosophic indifference to external things and other virtues characteristic of the rhinoceros. Likewise, they eat the bones of the raven to protect them from evil spirits, and perhaps also to enable them to eat with impunity and relish of any dish; it is to be feared that certain purloining instincts of this bird have been communicated in this way!
Patient observation and intelligent experimental investigation are entirely unknown to the Laos medicine-man; it is doubtful if he has, either by intelligent experiment or by accident, arrived at one solitary verifiable fact either in physiology or therapeutics; satisfied with his supposed stock of knowledge, he has no desire to increase it.
When called to see a patient the Laos doctor states authoritatively what the ailment is; then proceeds to prepare a dose of medicine, which process it is interesting to watch. Seating himself upon a mat on the floor, he calls for the medicine-stone—a block of fine sandstone kept in nearly every house—and upon it rubs his drugs, which are carried in the crude form. The dose is composed of indefinite proportions of various roots, herbs and minerals, the teeth, bones, blood and gall of the tiger, bear, crocodile, etc., egg-shells, and anything else that the doctor may have; for, perhaps with a view to alternative conditions, he uses a portion of every drug he has, thus leaving slim chances of any unrecognized or latent symptom remaining untouched. The portions of the various drugs worn off by these rubbings are carefully washed into an earthen vessel, and water to the amount of about half a gallon is added; this makes one dose, or, in case the patient is not strong enough or is not of sufficient capacity, the medicine is to be administered in small doses—say half a pint or so—every half hour. This kind of treatment is continued for two or three days, or, if the patient is exceptionally vigorous, it may continue longer, a new doctor usually taking charge of the patient on each succeeding day. The attending physician usually remains by his patient day and night until it is decided to call in another doctor or until convalescence is established. If the patient grows worse, two or three doctors are called in during the day, each one promising to effect a cure, and each in turn is dismissed if an immediate improvement is not evident. This is continued until the exhausted sufferer no longer tosses to and fro, but lies unconscious, breathing hard, the patient watching of the fond mother or sister is nearly over, the anxious pleading whisper is hushed, and the death-wail tells that another home is desolate, another soul seeks its eternal destiny.
As already mentioned, the Laos imagine many diseases to be caused by spirits. Those diseases which are peculiarly fatal, and over which they can exercise little or no control, are supposed to be due to agencies outside of nature. This belief encourages a disposition to neglect the investigation of natural causes and to multiply the instances of supposed supernatural manifestations. Thus the appeal to the supernatural to account for those deadly diseases so common in tropical climates strengthens and extends the superstitious belief which alone furnishes this interpretation of the mysterious phenomena of nature. This tendency to bring the intellectual faculties under subjection to the imagination is, of course, not limited to the realm of diseases, for every extraordinary phenomenon is supposed to be supernatural. The prevalence of fatal diseases and the frequency of epidemics secure this stronghold of superstition; any scheme which has for its object the elevation and enlightenment, the religious and intellectual regeneration, of the Laos must include efficient medical work, for in no other way can these superstitions be more immediately affected than by the rational treatment of diseases.
This belief in the supernatural causation of diseases is not confined to those disorders which are of rare occurrence: many forms of disease of every-day occurrence are attributed to spirits. Rheumatism is said to be caused by a “swamp-spirit;” the treatment for it might be said to be more surgical than medical. When a person is afflicted with a swamp-spirit, the doctor takes an axe or a large knife and draws the edge of it along the affected part, without, however, touching it, at the same time advising the spirit to return to its former abode.