Folk cures for a runny/stuffy nose
I’ve been sick the last couple of days, and I hate taking medicine. There are several reasons why I dislike medicine: I don’t want poison in my body, people like pharma-bro who insist that health care should be for profit and let’s make money off of people’s pain (You can’t go to the store and say “Hey, I’d like a new Health; my old Health has broken down and I can’t afford to fix it.”), it’s expensive, diseases are becoming immune to the medications we have, and taking medicine’s generally unpleasant. Eighty percent of all diseases are self-limiting. I just want my body to do its job and fight off whatever it is. I should then be immune to it the next time it shows up.
I married a Russian doctor of clinical pharmacology. She doesn’t like to see me be uncomfortable, much less ill. She knows all of the medications, what they do, and how they interact with one another. It’s part of her job. So, when she says I should take something and I refuse, I’m probably not being the smart one in the home. (Stupid pharma-bro and his less well-known ilk!) So, last night she offered a different sort of treatment.
You remember all of those old cartoons with sick people and their feet in a bath of hot water? Yeah, I’ll try that, but why does it work. “There are a lot of receptors in the foot.” I think to myself that this is some sort of reflexology thing but fine, I’ve got nothing to lose.
She pours the hot water in the tub and sets it down in front of me. “Put your feet in, but it’s hot.” I put the left one in and “DANG! THAT’S HOT! It’s like melt your feet hot. It's like 300 degrees hot. I’m going to be walking on 2 stubs after this.”
“It’s suppose to be hot. It’s not like it’s boiling. I usually have to just ease my feet down.” She walks away, and I am sitting there hovering my feet over the water.
I keep trying to put my feet in, but it is so hot. I am finally able to put my heels in and finally I get my feet under the water. “Okay, they’re in. Tell me when 7 minutes is up.”
“Honey, It's taken you a half hour to get your feet in there. I probably should’ve changed the water 3 times by now, but yeah, I’ll tell you when 7 minutes is up if you want to measure it.”
We get done. I’m drying my feet. “How do people stand that? It’s really hot.”
“But now you’re not thinking about your nose.”
I married a Russian doctor of clinical pharmacology. She doesn’t like to see me be uncomfortable, much less ill. She knows all of the medications, what they do, and how they interact with one another. It’s part of her job. So, when she says I should take something and I refuse, I’m probably not being the smart one in the home. (Stupid pharma-bro and his less well-known ilk!) So, last night she offered a different sort of treatment.
You remember all of those old cartoons with sick people and their feet in a bath of hot water? Yeah, I’ll try that, but why does it work. “There are a lot of receptors in the foot.” I think to myself that this is some sort of reflexology thing but fine, I’ve got nothing to lose.
She pours the hot water in the tub and sets it down in front of me. “Put your feet in, but it’s hot.” I put the left one in and “DANG! THAT’S HOT! It’s like melt your feet hot. It's like 300 degrees hot. I’m going to be walking on 2 stubs after this.”
“It’s suppose to be hot. It’s not like it’s boiling. I usually have to just ease my feet down.” She walks away, and I am sitting there hovering my feet over the water.
I keep trying to put my feet in, but it is so hot. I am finally able to put my heels in and finally I get my feet under the water. “Okay, they’re in. Tell me when 7 minutes is up.”
“Honey, It's taken you a half hour to get your feet in there. I probably should’ve changed the water 3 times by now, but yeah, I’ll tell you when 7 minutes is up if you want to measure it.”
We get done. I’m drying my feet. “How do people stand that? It’s really hot.”
“But now you’re not thinking about your nose.”
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