TALKS ON HEALTH

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19443, 31 October 1925, Page 13

TALKS ON HEALTH

BY A FAMILY DOCTOR

AFTER A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN. In recovering from a nervous breakdown, omit no measure which can even remotely help to drive out the enemy. The most careful attention must be paid to all details. Attack the Bogey of Gloom and Depression in every direction; give him no rest. Begin by building up your general health. I am so often plagued by patients who tell me they cannot eat, and friends who assure me the patient does not take enough to nourish a canary. In such examples of human silliness, cure is hopeless. I should like you to try similar methods on other people besides doctors. Try it on a chauffeur. Tell him that you will provide him with no petrol for his engine, but that if he does not make the motor go you will see that he is dismissed on the spot. If you will kindly listen to his remarks on the subject, you may get some dim idea of what I think of a woman who expects to make warm, good blood to nourish her nervous system out of the air she breathes and the smells of the street. Money spent on pleasant food is well spent; no one wants you to take food you do not like. Friends And Books. Then another point; you must choose your frinds. I will not allow an invalid to be pestered by dismal companions. It amazes me that so many senseless persons should keep up a crackling conversation for hours on end all about their ailments. They must not come near my patients. Then you must carefully choose your books,

a most important point. You do not want your mind to be blank, and to read a good author is the best way of avoiding ennui. Perhaps the best thing of all is to have two books going, one rather serious and the other very light. Think of it! All the great men who have ever lived are ready and willing to spe-k to you through their written books; you must not refuse

their offer to entertain and refresh you. An Important Matter. If you are in the position to move about from place to place, you must direct your attention to the choice of locality. It is worth the money if you arc cured by a change of air at the seaside. You might do better if you lived on higher ground; perhaps in another house at the same rent you coud find twice as much sun. Sunshine and brightness have a wonderfully curative effect. You must at least remove those thick, heavy curtains that keep out the light and air. It is real hard work to keep miserable with the warm morning sunbeams streaming in through the window.

You do not trouble to think about the position of your house or the sort of ground it is built on, and I want to wake you up. The next thing is that you must make a trial of the fresh air treatment, one of the most startling discoveries of the age is that fresh air is beneficial. How anyone came to think of it, I don’t know; but there you are—take it or leave it I say—and I will not allow you to contradict me—that fresh air is good. Now, being an invalid, or just recovering from being an invalid, you dress yourself in nice warm clothes, including an ulster and a rug round your knees, because being cold is no part of the treatment. Being satisfied that you are well wrapped up, you take your seat right out in the open, on a verandah, on the roof, at the end of the garden, on the cliffs—anywhere where you can be bathed in fresh air. You will be surprised at the rapid return of the colour to your cheeks. Don’t sit with your feet in a puddle, but resting on a clean dry board. Change your seat so as to get the maximum of sun. If you can get someone to spoil you,' ask them ta bring you a cup of beef-tea at elever in the morning, so that you need not go indoors. In a few days you will actually get to love the air, and to feel the room with closed windows and dark hangings quite oppressive. Then you have, before this, promised me faithfully that your skin should be healthy; no blocked-up pores, please. Don’t be stingy with the bath-water, and the rub-down works wonders. Have a Hobby. I also have to give you strict orders to cultivate a hobby. Play draughts, chess, dominoes; crochet, knit, embroider; collect stamps; learn a little simple botany and collect and press the leaves of our common plants; sketch, paint, draw; learn singing or the banjo or the mandoline; let your days be full, so that when anyone pops in and asks how your poor nerves are, you can reply. “I have not had time to think about them yet.” You must ‘‘shoo!” gloomy thoughts out of your mind as you would “shoo!” maurauding chickens out of your precious garden. Get a terrier and learn cheerfulness from him; refrain from acquiring a fat and over-fed pugdog; he will set you a bad example. Find out someone more miserable than yourself, and set yourself the task of brightening him or her; teaching is the best way to learn. Don’t Nurse Your Woes. I expressly forbid you to mourn with an excessive show of grief. If your thoughts are with someone who has gone to a happier life than this is, you must show it by leading a better life; a richer development of the better side of your character would be a more sincere proof of respect than many yards of crape. I object to people hugging and nursing their woes until they make themselves and everyone else miserable. I am tired of the wicked association of black clothes and quarrels over the insurance money. I must have less outward signs of mourning, and more inward resolves to show more true charity to one another. A Delicate Question. The question of religion is a difficult one and needs careful handling. A tactful clergyman will know when to encourage a parishioner with cheerful thoughts, and when to remind a flippant and thoughtless creature of the more serious aspects of life. But I say boldly that there is a type of patient who, for the time being, should not allow her thoughts to dwell too much on religion. To some poor depressed invalid who is struggling against a feeling of disaster it is directly harmful to be told three or four times a day that she is a miserable sinner. TREATMENT OF SORES. For the sore places that appear on the faces and hands of school children

the following treatment wil be found to be successful. All the sores must first be bathed with a clean rag and water as hot as it can be borne. This must not be hurried; patience is needed. The object of the bathing is to soften the hard scabs and loosen them so that they may easily be detached. It is under the scabs that the germs collect and work their wicked will. Mothers who have their hands full are sometimes content with put-

ting the ointment on without first ro moving the scabs. That method ii more than useless; the sores may be spread more widely over the face and head unless the directions are followed. If the scabs are. firmly attached, they may be gently raised with the blade of a pair of scissors. The scabs must be placed on a piece of paper, which can be burnt; they must not be touched with the fingers.