PUMPING IRONY: A Doctor in the House

I’m sitting at my desk on my front porch this morning watching the October rain threaten to become snow, the kind of weather that correlates nicely with my current mood: Is the bug that hit me yesterday going to morph into something more serious today?

About mid-morning, while preparing for a major budget meeting, my face grew hot and I began sniffling and sneezing. I soldiered on, of course, and stayed upright through the meeting and its aftermath, but felt pretty drained afterward. Plus, with H1N1 dominating the news these days, you never know. . . . So, I called My Lovely Wife to see if she could fetch me from the office, but our son had absconded with the Crapmobile, which had delivered me to work that morning. Left with no other alternative, I shouldered my computer bag and started walking home.

Years ago, when the kids were small, MLW took some classes in homeopathy and essentially became our family doctor (we were without health insurance). In fact, she became quite adept at diagnosing our various minor maladies and prescribing the proper homeopathic remedy. I was reminded of this as I strode across the bridge toward home yesterday, because I began to feel a little better out in the autumn air. Indeed, by the end of my 40-minute walk, my fever had almost completely vanished.

What Is Pulsatilla?

When I mentioned this to MLW, she simply noted, “You’re pulsatilla.” Meaning, that’s the homeopathic remedy I should employ if my fever returns. And then she went back to the drawing she’d been working on. I made some tea, settled into my comfy chair and marveled silently at my good fortune. Who else has a doctor who makes house calls? (Even if you have to walk to the house to get your treatment.)

My fever hasn’t yet returned, but I’m watching for any symptoms to appear. The doctor is making oatmeal.

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