Just a little more about homeopathy
Skating librarian writes:
The advice about burning would seem to apply, as serious nettle encounters go way beyond itching. Of late the incessant rain seems to be good for more than swelling the berries, for I’ve discovered that if I can plunge my hand into cold water at once I have much less of a reaction, and Lord knows there is more than enough water around.
I still use cold water for minor burns . . . even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m a homeopath, and like cures like. Another one of the tutors at my first college told an extraordinary story about burning, stinging and nettles. He’d been picking and eating wild blackberries—as one does: you see more people out in the countryside, all of them elbow-deep in the hedgerows, during blackberry season around here than you do the whole rest of the year together—and managed to bite down on a bee. It stung him. He was standing there feeling his mouth and throat swell up and burn like he’d swallowed acid . . . of course he didn’t have his first aid kit on him; us homeopaths are dumb thoughtless twits just like the rest of the population. But there were nettles growing up through the blackberry canes—and like cures like. He grabbed a handful of nettles and stuffed them in his mouth.
For about twenty seconds he knew he was dying. And then . . . the burning began ebbing away. And when it was gone, after a few minutes, the swelling was gone too. He didn’t even know where the bee sting site was any more.
Don’t try this at home, kids. It’s a great story but I wouldn’t want to rely on it: adrenaline and panic will also have played a part here. Like cures like—but use the little white pills, it’s what they’re for* and which have been, as it’s called, potentised, which is a lecture for another day.
On the subject of burning however I do want to put in a word for Cantharis—Spanish fly. Yes it is used for sexual and genito-urinal difficulties in its homeopathic incarnation—but it’s also used for burns. Every few years I manage to pick up a hot oven dish without remembering to pick up a potholder first—I don’t mean touch and let go of, I mean pick up. The last time I did this I had grabbed the iron handle of an iron skillet that had been in the hot oven of the Aga—fatal, I find, hot handles: handles exist to be seized hold of—and I’d actually managed to take the weight of the thing before I realised what I’d done. I heard my flesh sizzle: I daresay most of you cooks out there have done this. I knew this was a bad one. It was going to take weeks to heal, it was going to be horrible and messy and I wasn’t going to be able to pull on a bell rope. I flew for my remedies, as if trying to stay ahead of the pain**, and took a Cantharis 200.*** And the pain stopped. It was like watching the tide hit a sea wall: that water coming in looks irresistible . . . and then it rides up the wall and falls back again. It was like that. I took a pill every 15 minutes for an hour† at the end of which . . . I had a little pink patch over the web between my thumb and first finger. It produced a single tiny half-hearted blister. I didn’t miss so much as a day of bell ringing.
Skaters use a lot of Arnica … and I should keep it with my gardening tote too, as the sorts of things which fall under the gardening rubric include building fences, laying bricks, and digging out nasty rooty things (nice rooty things too) which seem to lead to bruises.
It’s also good for sore backs, although there are other things for sore backs—rhus tox, for example, for a sore back or any other muscular ache that is better for motion and nails you savagely when you first move after having been still for a while.
Diane in MN writes:
It seems to me that this really underlines the necessity to find a good homeopathic practitioner, especially if you-the-patient are unfamiliar with homeopathy. Obviously you’d want a good MD (or dentist or whatever), too, but if successful homeopathic treatment is tailored to the individual rather than being primarily diagnosis-dependent, it would be particularly important to find someone who is good at asking the questions that clarify the individual’s needs.
YES. This is absolutely the case. The individualisation of homeopathy is why it’s so jaw-droppingly, miraculously brilliant when it works—and so often such a ratbag when (driving yourself nuts) looking for the right answer for a given problem. As I’m fond of saying, homeopathy does have all the answers—the stumbling block is the homeopaths, who are all distressingly mortal. This is yet another rant for another day, but along with needing a good homeopath, you need a good homeopath who suits you, who can tune into you. Not every good homeopath is good for every client.
This is also an argument, you know, for doing it yourself: there are a lot of highly competent, so-called home first-aid homeopaths I’d rather be in the hands of if I were in trouble than a lot of doctors with more degrees than sense. There’s also much to be said for your own instinctive knowledge of a person or an animal—or a plant: it works on plants too, although they’re hell to reportise—that you know well. I dragged Holly through a fatal illness when the world-famous homeopathic vet I was spending house-mortgage money on couldn’t do it. As I said yesterday, you can learn the basic principles of homeopathy and start using it in a few hours. In a few minutes, if you’re a speed reader with excellent concentration.
Mrs Redboots writes:
Skaters can’t exist without arnica – most of us have, at the very least, the cream in our skate bags, and usually tablets, too.
I know a lot of people swear by the cream . . . but the pills are better.
Also, somewhat related, Dr Bach’s Rescue Remedy, which is magic both for shock after a nasty fall and for pre-competition nerves.
Yes, I was thinking I should do a post on Bach flower remedies some time too. Rescue Remedy is also great for stopping dogs throwing up in the car. I wish I’d known about it when Holly was a puppy. Rowan outgrew it, Hazel was too stoic to permit herself to throw up . . . Holly threw up for years.
And, speaking of puppies, B twin is back from the sheep races††, and we have another PUPDATE.
* * *
* Which is to say, take your frelling first aid kit with you.
** Yes, I was yelling, but mostly with terror
*** For anyone who finds themselves getting serious about a remedy kit: 30c is the usual strength for the average kit, but 200 is good for getting it in there for more severe things. If I were waiting for an ambulance, I’d probably be using 200 strength on whoever the ambulance was for.
† Standard treatment pattern for a sudden or drastic situation
†† . . . whatever
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