VooDoo Medicine

Everyone has their limit.

I understand and fully appreciate that. We’ve all melted down over something that might be relatively insignificant, but when heaped upon other events, it is simply too much for human nature to ignore.

Thus, I found myself about 3:00 this morning (still sleeping on the couch) facing a man in his underwear holding a glass that had fully two ounces of Wild Turkey and a splash of honey in it, insisting, “Drink this”.
"What is it"
"DRINK IT!!"

Apparently my racking cough, which had gotten progressively worse through the evening and into the night, was disturbing even on in different room and on another floor.

It’s not like this is a new remedy. In our family lore, I was told of a maternal great-great-grandmother, Granny Bransol, who drank whiskey from a spoon on a more or less continuous basis and referred to it as,”. . . nasty old cough medicine.”

I suspect this camouflage was to protect her position in the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU), which was one of the major social outlets for women in western Oklahoma at the time. Their advocacy of prohibition was somewhat inconsistent with a hip flask in the purse of the President of a local chapter.

We’re not opposed to alternative medicine in this family. Any sniffle or ailment results in a call to the kid’s mom to “voodoo us up,” she being the resident expert on homeopathic remedies. If told to sacrifice a chicken by the light of a full moon to cure some malady, I’d at least give it a shot.

After all, there’s no co-pay or insurance forms to fill out.

I suspect that last night's cure was further prompted after a new book had arrived at the house – Best Choices from The People’s Pharmacy by Joe and Teresa Graedon. They have a very popular radio show on NPR that offers all types of alternative remedies. This handy-dandy book simply makes it easier to find them than going to the web site at 3:00 in the morning.

This is also why, after I was trying to catch my breath from downing the whiskey, I was forced to surrender my feet to be slathered with Vicks Vap-o-Rub and encased in cotton socks.

I don’t know which of the remedies worked. I do know that I was able to sleep until that same man came downstairs, this time fully dressed.

I’m just glad the cure didn’t call for a belt cinched tightly around the neck until the coughing stops.