Forty Years in the Wilderness of Pills and Powders / Cogitations and Confessions of an Aged Physician

by William A. Alcott

A female, in Worcester County, Massachusetts, nearly sixty years of age, having for many years been a sufferer from domestic afflictions, till, along with certain abuses of the digestive function, it had brought upon her a full load of dyspepsia, was at length subjected to a trio of evils, which capped the climax of her sufferings, reduced her to a very low condition, and laid her on her bed.

While lying in this condition, a young woman who was her constant attendant, and who was acquainted with my no-medicine practice, recommended to her to send for me. She hesitated, for a time, on account of the expense; for, though by no means poor, she felt all the pangs of poverty in consequence of the hard and unworthy treatment of the individual who was to have justly executed the last will and testament of her husband.

But I was at length sent for. I found her under the general care and oversight of a homoeopathic physician; but as he was ten or twelve miles distant and had not been informed of my visit, I did not see him. His practice, however, in the case, was similar to what I had usually met with in cases which had come under the care of physicians of the same school, and was, at most, as it appeared to me, negative. She had indeed been drugged by some one most fearfully, and her whole system was suffering as the consequence; but it was a physician who had preceded Dr. A., and who was of an entirely different school.

I found no great difficulty in persuading her to ask Dr. A., when he should next call, to suspend his medicine a week or two; and, after ordering a warm bath two or three times a week, and certain changes in diet, with particular care about ventilation and temperature, left her, to call again the next week.

On calling, at the time appointed, I was greatly disappointed in finding her with many better symptoms. There was indeed cough, which busy rumor had converted into an indication of galloping consumption; but I found no other symptom which belonged to that disease. The homœopathic medicine had been suspended, and the warm bath had been applied with apparent success.

I left, with the promise of calling again in ten days—but not sooner, unless they sent for me. At the end of the ten days, I called and found all things ajar again. Her female attendant had left her about a week before; and the new attendants—two of them—being destitute of faith in me, had found no great difficulty in persuading her that she had a fever of the lungs, and that she would die if she did not take a little medicine, and that she would do well to recall Dr. A., and take his medicine.

When I arrived, at this third visit, I found her taking a small amount of homœopathic medicine, but without appetite or strength, and evidently tending downward. It was too late to do any thing, especially when there was no faith in anything but pills and powders; and I left her to her native strength of constitution, her homœopathic physician, her croaking nurses, and God, vainly mourning, all my way home, about the inefficiency of works without faith, especially in the case of the sick. This woman's case is recent, and it is possible that she may recover, in spite of pills, powders, croakings, and faithlessness. I have witnessed such things. Nature is tough.

But while I lament the inefficiency of works, where faith is wanting, I have had one case which seems an exception to the general rule, "according to your faith," etc., which I take great pleasure in recording.

In June, 18—, a young man from the interior of New England called on me while abroad on business, and desired to receive my advice concerning certain complaints, attended with great debility, and accompanied by hernia and varicocele, and, in general, by dyspepsia. On examination, I found the case a very obstinate one, of long standing. The patient was a young man of twenty-two, a clerk in a country store, a man of some principle, and yet trained to find his chief happiness in the indulgence of his appetite, especially in what is called good eating.

I gave him some general directions, promising him something still more specific as soon as I got home. In July, I gave him written directions, in full, and urged him to push the treatment as fast as possible, in order to get into a beginning state of convalescence, soon enough to take advantage of the naturally recuperative effects of autumn. If he could find himself recruiting in September, the month of October, I told him, would produce on him a very decided change.