The Friend of Health, part 4

Dr. Samuel Hahnemann would have been very pleased with our modern water and sewer services. In his day, the lack of such systems contributed to the many epidemics—a fact that he recognized. In his book, The Friend of Health, he had much to say about the management and improvement of cesspools, but I'll spare you the details.

Thanks to poor sanitation, as well as other issues, Hahnemann treated countless patients during the many epidemics of his day. He would find what he termed the genus epidemicus—the homeopathic remedy or group of remedies that best covered the symptoms of the disease. Being in the Here and Now was critical; acting on old information, or with a previous protocol from last year's epidemic wasn't acceptable. And Hahnemann had an excellent record of cures, far surpassing the "regular" doctors.

In addition to cesspool improvement, Hahnemann had very specific strategies to prevent the spread of epidemics. For instance, he wrote that rag-gatherers should "not remain in the town…but go into the country, and…leave (their carts) in the open air." Also, "dealers in old clothes should only be allowed to carry on their trade in open shops," and one should avoid purchasing used furniture during an epidemic. Hahnemann changed his clothes after visiting an infectious sick room, leaving the old clothes behind to be aired, so as not to carry the various epidemic diseases home to his family. As I read, I thought of the reusable bags that people bring into stores, and the numerous and popular consignment shops. Hahnemann would not have approved of either during an active epidemic.

But he would have been happy to see the improvements that have been made in prisons. He wrote, "destructive epidemic diseases often have their origin in these death-laden walls." And he also stated timeless words about schools. He wrote, "It should be impressed upon (schoolmasters) not to admit any sick child to the classes, whose altered appearance betrays the commencement of a disease. Besides, a sick child can learn nothing."

During epidemic periods Hahnemann washed his money in boiling water and fumigated his letters with sulphur. He didn't drink out of another's glass and avoided "making use of a stranger's water closet or allowing a stranger to use ours." And he frowned upon hugging or even shaking hands at such times.

Ditches with standing water had much potential for pestilence. Hahnemann recommended that they should be cleared only in the winter, with each new layer of ice carted off as it formed. Water that accumulated on land should be drained off into a river, and he stated that "small windmills must be erected in order to pump off the water as quickly as possible and dry the land." He deplored the "paltry parsimony of many corporations" that resisted spending money on such immediate measures, also refusing to fund long-term ones—like aqueduct systems or the construction of deep wells. In a footnote, he wrote, "I saw the fortieth part of the inhabitants of a large town die of typhus, in consequence of the incautious draining of the town fosse."

Famine will almost always cause an epidemic. Being without the necessities of life will eventually break down even the strongest constitutions. Hahnemann wrote, "…some rulers have learned, from the dangers to which they themselves were exposed, to provide for the safety of their many thousand subjects, by establishing corn-granaries and flour-magazines against seasons of scarcity."

And he mentions the dangers connected to large ships which, even today, we see with cruise ships. He writes, "many causes conspire in ships to produce destructive diseases," and he especially bemoans the days people spend locked below deck during storms. And he says, "care should be taken not to take on board sick persons, or such as have scarcely recovered from illness."

Hahnemann was also quite wary of old graves, particularly those inside churches. He reports, "a grave was opened in the church of Saulieu, Burgundy, and church-service performed soon afterwards, in consequence of which 40 children and 200 grown-up people, together with the sexton and clergyman, were assailed by the exhalation that arose, and carried off by a malignant disorder." In a footnote, he says, "…the most fatal gas generated by the last stage of putrefaction does not readily rise, but is heavy, and not infrequently reposes in a low stratum above the corrupting matter, until it is stirred up, and is thus rendered dangerous to life," and "it has not yet been ascertained how many years the contagious principle may remain…(on) the buried corpses of those who have died of malignant diseases." Pretty scary stuff—the makings of a horror movie!

He talks about the dead in the dissecting rooms of his day, too, and highly recommends not keeping the subjects "until they are in the last stages of putrefaction…examples are not wanting of the students who were merely looking on being rendered dangerously ill thereby." I would hope that medical schools nowadays have a much better handle on this problem.

And Hahnemann disliked many town layouts, stating that the "high walls and ramparts are now generally acknowledged to be useless for towns that are not fortified. That they are injurious by preventing the access of fresh air will also be readily conceded. But that the masses of houses of most towns are too closely huddled together is not yet generally seen, and when it is, it is attempted, but without success, to be excused, by the greater facilities offered for business and trade by having everything within a small circle." 'Walkable neighborhoods' are gaining in popularity these days, and hopefully they're being built with excellent ventilation, adequate access to fresh air, and enough space between dwellings.

In an interesting footnote, Hahnemann wrote, "A slight increase of stimulants, such as wine, tobacco and snuff, is said to be a powerful prophylactic against infectious disorders." That could explain why he smoked a pipe all his life! But he also wrote that "The Creator of mankind has so ordained that habit shall be a protector against many dangers." Although some doctors and nurses die during epidemics, the cautious ones "can gradually accustom themselves to the exhalations of the most infectious diseases, and their system in course of time becomes quite insensible to them."

He goes on to say that "the most compassionate, young physicians…are soonest carried off." Their excessive philanthropy and anxiety about their patients prevent them from keeping the first visits short, keeping a proper distance from the patient, and insisting that the sick room be well aired prior to the visit. It is only by degrees that a physician may "approach (the patient) sufficiently close to be able to feel their pulse and see their tongue," all the while refraining from breathing.

And he writes, "we should, when visiting the patient, endeavor to maintain our mind and body in good equilibrium…we must not permit ourselves to be acted on by debilitating emotions" because "depressing mental emotions render persons susceptible." He also states that "we should not forget to take food and drink in the usual manner," and "night-watchings should be avoided."

And he absolutely disliked "fumigations of the sick room…with vinegar, juniper berries and the like." They mask the smells in the sick chamber, making it impossible for a physician to tell if his order to air the room has been obeyed. They also give a false sense of security, if one is counting on them to protect one from the contagious fumes.

I wonder what Hahnemann would have said about the current epidemics of auto-immune disease and autism, not to mention the increase of cancers? Do you have any thoughts about them? If so, you can write me at info@lucillelocklin.com.