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Medical Treatment on the Farm
Illness in the early 1900s was mostly taken care of at home. Hospitals
were few and far between. Folk remedies were traded between households.
Babies were delivered at home, usually with a midwife or just a willing
neighbor in attendance. Prescription medicines were unknown. The drugs
on the drugstore shelves were mostly aspirin, harsh laxatives, rubbing
alcohol, cough syrup, liniment, paregoric, asafedita, and calomel.
When a person became ill with the influenza or pneumonia, he did not go to a
hospital. He went to bed, used home remedies, or sent for the doctor--if
he happened to be lucky enough to live in a community where one was
available. Those doctors traveled in horse-drawn buggies over dirt roads
which became almost impassable in rainy weather.
Grandpa Leon
Josephus Coney became so ill one winter that he sent for the doctor in
Ladonia. After an examination the doctor prescribed bed rest, smelly
poultices for his chest, aspirin, and a cough syrup (made mostly of
whiskey and home canned fruit juice). The aspirin and cough syrup were
to be administered every hour. There were no alarm clocks at the time,
so someone had to sit up with Grandpa to tend to this and to be
available if he needed any help. A chamberpot was close by for his
vomiting and diarrhea, and this had to be emptied frequently. Fluids
kept by his bed were given to him when he asked. Neighbors volunteered
to sit up with him at night so the family could get some rest and be
ready for his care during the day. There was no electricity to furnish
lights, no radio, no television. Just coal-oil lamps and a fireplace
which had to be kept burning to keep the room warm. Reading was just
about the only activity the sitter had to help him stay awake.
Uncle "Red" Rucker volunteered to sit up with Grandpa one of those
nights. He had never learned to read, so the time passed very slowly for
him. The slow, steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock over the mantel
caused him to become very sleepy. What could he do to stay awake? He
began tearing small strips of paper off the newspaper, rolling them into
tiny bits and stuffing them into the toes of Grandpa's shoes. He kept at
this most of the night. A couple of weeks later after Grandpa had
recovered, Uncle Red and Aunt B. I. went to visit. They found Granny
cutting Grandpa's tough toenails with horse hoof nippers, then filing
them with a heavy rasp. She said that since his illness, his shoes
didn't fit. She had trimmed his toenails several times, even cutting
them almost into the flesh. Red told them about the rolled-up paper,
saying he had "forgotten" about it. They removed the paper and Grandpa's
shoes fit again.
Grandpa was a big (six-foot), solidly built
man--but he couldn't stand pain. One spring he had a bad sore on one
hand--they called it a "bone felon." He wouldn't let Granny put any
liniment on it, because that burned. The hand kept getting worse, until
Grandpa finally went to the doctor's office in Yowell. His office was
upstairs above the general store, but the doctor happened to be
downstairs when Grandpa came in. He asked the doctor to take a look at
his hand. It was swollen quite badly. After examining it, the doctor
told Grandpa it would have to be lanced. Grandpa pulled his hand back
quickly, letting it be known that he would not allow his hand to be
lanced. The doctor said calmly, "It's not ready to be lanced yet, but
just so you'll know what to expect when it is, let me show you what we
will do." As the doctor picked up a sharp lance, he took Grandpa's
outstretched hand in his and said, "When it is ready, we will take this
lance and insert it right here," doing so even as he said it. He had
Grandpa's hand lanced and was out the back door of the store before
Grandpa knew what was happening. Grandpa danced around holding his bad
hand and yelling. It was draining the pus and infection out with a lot
of blood. He went home to get Granny to bandage it. Of course, the hand
healed quickly after that, but Grandpa never forgave the doctor for
tricking him and never trusted him again.
Lowell McCormack
Gainesville, Texas
Published:
November 14,
2005
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