About Doctors and Their Patients.
By J. CLARKE
THERE is a very curious doctrine extant in the world with regard to the sick, which somewhat resembles the Roman Catholic superstition. The Romanist would be alarmed at the thought of dying without absolution from the priest; so it is with the sick: they would think it dreadful to die without the doctor, and a table full of vials and bottles, and nice little doses of drugs wrapped up in white papers,—all to be given at just such hours, alternating with a spoonful of the liquid medicine in the bowl once in an hour. And to die without the usual amount of drugs in the patient’s stomach, and the usual number of vials and little papers of medicine, and the usual round of visits from the doctor, would be a perpetual disgrace to the family. A short time since, I was nursing for one night a sick man who had congestive chills. The doctor had left the usual hourly powders, &c., &c., wine, and stimulants, and I am satisfied the hydropathic nursing he had received from his family saved him in spite of the drugs and tonics. During the evening, a chicken was prepared for him (although he was hardly able to turn himself in bed, and the doctor encouraged him to eat freely), and three or four little ones sat up to have a nice lunch of the chicken. I told the lady of the house it was a bad practice, especially for children, to eat just previous to sleep. She thought a light supper would do no harm. The effect was, those children screamed most provokingly two-thirds of the night, and had I told them the cause, they would have smiled incredulously. There are a few questions I would like to propound to some one who is better posted than I am on medical matters: First, when a physician salivates a patient, what does he do it for? his own profit, or for the hurrying his patient along? Second, why does a physician tell his patient to eat, while he is giving him drugs to cleanse his system? This puts me in mind of what a friend relates, a circumstance which came under his observation: Dr. E.—settled in Northeastern Ohio, many years ago. He was a plain, frank man, well-informed in medicine and surgery. He sought the health and prosperity of his patients. He would inquire the symptoms of those who needed his aid, and if it was not necessary, would not make the expense of a trip, but would send a few pills, a dose of rhubarb, a vial of castor oil, or some little matter, and people were very healthy in his vicinity, and the little practice he had did not support his family, so he went to keeping tavern! Two new doctors came into the place; people got very sick, very low indeed. These skillful young physicians would raise up these sick people most miraculously; people extolled the new doctors, and old Dr. E. became very small in their sight. Dr. E. had been in the world some, knew the tricks of trade, and half-indignant, asserted that if that was what the people wanted, he could work at the same vocation too. The patients now grew very, very sick, and just as they were at death’s door, Dr. E. raised them up. His reputation was up again, and ever after, the three doctors thrived, where one hardly lived before.