Gone are the days--or they should be--of doctors who think they are God.

For those of you reading this who are old enough--and brave enough to admit it--to recall, there was no such thing as worrying about health care. If Mama'nem couldn't cure it, it couldn't be cured.

And ain't it funny y'all that the stuff they used to fix us up when we were ailing is now on the Food and Drug Administration's no-no list? How's this for example:

If you had bronchitis and a wheeze in your breathing, we'd get a big unmeasured spoonful of a dose of some stuff called Old Granddad Whisky, some sugar, lemon juice, turpentine and honey or whatever else was in the kitchen cabinet to mix up...and swallow it in one gulp.

Nowadays, they call that "Nyquil." We called 'em "hot totties." (That was an "o" vowel y'all, not an "i"). Hot titties might also be soothing to those who are lovesick but this is not that kind of article.

And isn't it amazing that the worse something smelled, the more eager the folk-medicine women of our day were to just slather it all over us from head to foot....with a heating pad to make it smell worse?

So much for the days of our baby-boomer childhoods. But all of that to say this: As a preventative medicine promoter, it's a lot more comforting to make decisions when we are well before they cost us an arm and a leg and a high interest loan to try and stay alive. Those depression era ancestors of ours knew how to stick around when there was no physician within a few hundred country miles sometimes. Maybe they were up so high in the mountains that there was no possible way to get help for someone when things didn't look so good.

What I appreciate most is that back in the day, people were not afraid to pray the illness right out of one's body, as well as rub all the God-created stinky stuff that came from the roots of a turnip to black walnut hulls, mix it up with a little goose grease and mutton tallow, wrap you up with old clean cotton gauze rags that had been heated in a wood burning stove to increase the circulation, and use time-tested Vicks in an old-time vaporizer than did so much more for one's lungs than an overpriced humidifier from Walmart that was made in China where the people know how to live 120 years without medication.

And somehow, that Watkins salve was all purpose. How many of y'all remember your grandmama saying "go 'head and swallow a spoon of this?" It was greasy, stinky, probably didn't do a thing for our digestive surfaces except slick up our esophagus.... But with a hug and a couple of cozy thick home-made quilts encasing you like mummy-wrap, no germ dare stay in our bodies.

All I know is this: If an illness couldn't be run out of our bodies just from the smell alone, it was sweated out of us with those quilts and warm cotton wrappings. Then comes the recover.

We were kept out of school because someone was home to take care of us. We were immunized because once upon a time the health care system cared more about health care than money. Doctors specialized in everything and didn't need to be split into a zillion different categories. Nothing wrong with specialization but why in the "h-e-double hockey sticks" do people have to jump through hoop after hoop after hoop just to be seen by a specialist? Are they that busy playing golf?

Anyway, at the tender age of uh-hem I figure "Look Reed, you've raised your kids....they know how to act....you'll always be Momma whether they listen to you or not....so now it's time you got on up, did some things nice for yourself like get a deep muscle therapeutic massage once a week....take a cruise every other month since you're gettin' paid to do it anyway...and live the other side of your Happy Days and dance like nobody's watching.

But you better believe when I start to dance, I'll have an audience and a dance card, because I'm putting Vicks on my kneecaps the night before!

Stay healthy y'all....and stop listening to people who are ready to test you with the latest new drug as seen on TV.

Disclaimer: The following are great relaxation remedies. When it comes to your health, don't play with it because I'm a poet, speaker, writer to heal the mind but not the body when you really need medical help. You can't print off this page, crumple it in olive oil and garlic and swallow it.

See your physician or medical professional so he/she can give you their professional opinion. If you follow it, cool. If not, don't let lack of money be the reason you allow yourself to feel miserable. (At least, check out Qigong Self Massage. Unless you charge yourself a fee, 'taint gonna cost you nothin'! And it may keep you from poppin' your co-worker upside the head when they get on your last nerve.)

 REMEDIES FOR THE STRESSED FROM MY CHIROPRACTOR'S OFFICE THAT WORK FOR ME. (Notice I said, FOR ME!) Try them if you like.

When feeling ill or you think you're coming down with "da FLU" (And always take precautions when getting in and out of the bathwater. Avoid slippage, and if you feel dizzy in the least bit when leaving the warm water--ask for support. You'll be just that relaxed!)

REMEDY 1: Baking Soda Bath. Add 1 lb. box of Arm and Hammer Baking Soda to your bath and soak for at least 20 minutes. This may help when flu symptoms begin or anytime your body is feeling ill. It may sometimes help itching skin also, especially in an allergic reaction.


REMEDY 2: Apple Cider Vinegar Bath.

Add 1 Quart (the WHOLE bottle) of Apple Cider Vinegar to your bath water. Soak for at least 20 minutes. This may help your muscles release the lactic acid and toxins that build up during deep muscle therapy, exercise, etc. This is always a good bath for any sore and/or tired muscles. Be sure to use vinegar made from apples, not your teen age sons sweaty socks.


REMEDY 3: Relaxing Bath. Add the following to your bath water.

1 Quart Apple Cider Vinegar

1 Pint Wintergreen Alcohol (Not Old Grandad or Johnny Walker Red and don't drink it while in the tub, we don't want you to drown)

2 Cups Epsom Salts

Soak for 20-30 minutes. This bath may help after a deep muscle therapy, a long hard day at work where you wish you could fire your boss, or your personal athletic event. Sex does not qualify as an athletic event unless you have up to 18 orgasms like that woman complained about when Dr. Oz was on Oprah. Oh-Woooooooo! 14....Oh-Woooooooo!  15...Oh-Woooooooo!  16...Oh-Woooooooo! 17.... Oh-Woooooooo! Oh-Woooooooo! Oh-Woooooooo! 18~


Or as the YouTube Chipmunks say, OOO EEE OOO AHAH-WALLA WALLA BING BANG
Now that's a problem ladies, right? (HA!)

 


© 2008 cynth’ya lewis reed
all rights reserv’d