Drugs And
Why
Several illustrations of this great subject have been presented before me. The first was a family consisting of a father and daughter. The daughter was sick, and the father was much troubled on her account, and summoned a physician. As the father conducted him into the sick room, he manifested a painful anxiety. The physician examined the patient, and said but little. They both left the sick room. The father informed the physician that he had buried the mother, a son and daughter, and this daughter was all that was left to him of his family. He anxiously inquired of the physician if he thought his daughter's case hopeless.
The physician then inquired in regard to the nature and length of the sickness of those who had died. The father moanfully related the painful facts connected with the illness of his loved ones. "My son was first attacked with a fever. I called a physician. He said that he could administer medicine which would soon break the fever. He gave him powerful medicine, but was disappointed in its effects. The fever was reduced, but my son grew dangerously sick. The same medicine was again given him, without producing any change for the better. The physician then resorted to still more powerful medicines, but my son obtained no relief. The fever left him, but he did not rally. He sank rapidly and died.
"The death of my son so sudden and unexpected was a great grief to us all, but especially to his mother. Her watching and anxiety in his sickness, and her grief occasioned by his sudden death, were too much for her nervous system, and my wife was soon prostrated. I felt dissatisfied with the course pursued by this physician. My confidence in his skill was shaken, and I could not employ him a second time. I called another to my suffering wife. This second physician gave her a liberal dose of opium, which he said would relieve her pains, quiet her nerves, and give her rest, which she much needed. The opium stupefied her. She slept, and nothing could arouse her from the death-like stupor. Her pulse and heart at times throbbed violently, and then grew more and more feeble in their action, until she ceased to breathe. Thus she died without giving her family one look of recognition. This second death seemed more than we could endure. We all sorrowed deeply but I was agonized and could not be comforted.
"My daughter was next afflicted. Grief, anxiety and watching, had overtasked her powers of endurance, and her strength gave way, and she was brought upon a bed of suffering. I have now lost confidence in both the physicians I had employed. Another physician was recommended to me as being successful in treating the sick. And although he lived at a distance, I was determined to obtain his services.
"This third physician professed to understand my daughter's case. He said that she was greatly debilitated, and that her nervous system was deranged, and that fever was upon her, which could be controlled, but that it would take time to bring her up from her present state of debility. He expressed perfect confidence in his ability to raise her. He gave her powerful medicine to break up the fever. This was accomplished. But as the fever left, the case assumed more alarming features, and grew more complicated. As the symptoms changed, the medicines were varied to meet the case. While under the influence of new medicines she would, for a time, appear revived, which would flatter our hopes, that she would get well, only to make our disappointment more bitter as she became worse.
"The physician's last resort was calomel. For some time she seemed to be between life and death. She was thrown into convulsions. As these most distressing spasms ceased, we were aroused to the painful fact that her intellect was weakened. She began slowly to improve, although still a great sufferer. Her limbs were crippled as the effect of the powerful poisons which she had taken. She lingered a few years a helpless, pitiful sufferer, and died in much agony."
After this sad relation the father looked imploringly to the physician, and entreated him to save his only remaining child. The physician looked sad and anxious, but made no prescription. He arose to leave, saying that he would call the next day.
My attention was then called to the first case, that of the father who had lost his wife and two children. The physician was in the sick room, standing by the bedside of the afflicted daughter. Again he left the room without giving medicine. The father, when in the presence of the physician alone seemed deeply moved, and he inquired impatiently, "Do you intend to do nothing? Will you leave my only daughter to die?" The physician said,
"I have listened to the sad history of the death of your much loved wife, and your two children, and have learned from your own lips that all three have died while in the care of physicians, while taking medicines prescribed and administered by their hands. Medicine has not saved your loved ones, and as a physician I solemnly believe that none of them need, or ought to have died. They could have recovered if they had not been so drugged that nature was enfeebled by abuse, and finally crushed." He stated decidedly to the agitated father "I cannot give medicine to your daughter. I shall only seek to assist nature in her efforts, by removing every obstruction, and then leave nature to recover the exhausted energies of the system." He placed in the father's hand a few directions which he enjoined upon him to follow closely.
"Keep the patient free from excitement, and every influence calculated to depress. Her attendants should be cheerful and hopeful. She should have a simple diet, and should be allowed plenty of pure soft water to drink. Bathe frequently in pure soft water followed by gentle rubbing. Let the light, and air, be freely admitted into her room. She must have quiet, and undisturbed rest."
The father slowly read the prescription, and wondered at the few simple directions it contained, and seemed doubtful of any good resulting from such simple means. Said the physician,
"You have had sufficient confidence in my skill to place the life of your daughter in my hands. Withdraw not your confidence. I will visit your daughter daily, and direct you in the management of her case. Follow my directions with confidence, and I trust in a few weeks to present her to you in a much better condition of health, if not fully restored."
The father looked sad and doubtful, but submitted to the decision of the physician. He feared that his daughter must die if she had no medicine.
I was brought again into the sick room of the first case, that of the father and his daughter. The daughter was sitting by the side of her father, cheerful and happy, with the glow of health upon her countenance. The father was looking upon her with happy satisfaction, his countenance speaking the gratitude of his heart, that his only child was spared to him. Her physician entered, and after conversing with the father and child for a short time, arose to leave. He addressed the father, thus,
"I present to you your daughter restored to health. I gave her no medicine that I might leave her with an unbroken constitution. Medicine never could have accomplished this. Medicine deranges nature's fine machinery, and breaks down the constitution, and kills, but never cures. Nature alone possesses the restorative powers. She alone can build up her exhausted energies, and repair the injuries she has received by inattention to her fixed laws."
He then asked the father if he was satisfied with his manner of treatment. The happy father expressed his heartfelt gratitude, and perfect satisfaction, saying,
"I have learned a lesson I shall never forget. It was painful, yet it is of priceless value. I am now convinced that my wife and children need not have died. Their lives were sacrificed while in the hands of physicians by their poisonous drugs."
Selected Messages
Book 2 P 443-448