My mother was skeptical of the medical world. It was almost a betrayal of her values to hand me over to white coated strangers when they realized I could not hear well. I became something of a guinea pig while they removed my adenoids, then tonsils, inserted spaghetti sized tubes six times, reconstructed my eardrums and finally resorted to nuclear zaps. There were a dozen surgeries in all, and now I can hear. Mostly. My memories of the treatments which spread out over fifteen years are dim. I can recall walking down a long hospital corridor, my mother's hand gripping mine. She was more scared than I was. Then there was the moment on the operating table before they put the sleepy mask over my mouth when the doctors, who were identical twins in bow ties, jovially asked what I had had for breakfast.

 

This caused a kerfuffle. Who had neglected to tell this child's mother the pre op instructions? A hasty conversation happened twenty inches over my face and I was wheeled back to my room. Had I done something wrong? We came again the next week, sans breakfast, and the procedure proceeded. 

 

Homeopathy is a different model. It depends on tiny white pills with Latin names, which need no prescription, involve no side effects and cost less than a copay. Much less. Those qualities suited my mother just fine.

 

I dabble in homeopathy too, though when I look back at thirty years of parenting there were remarkably scant opportunities to perfect my skill. Chicken pox, couple of ear aches, a few barfs every other winter, one notable case of mono. Emergencies were less than one per customer too. One febrile seizure, a chin split dealt with by super glue, an appendectomy. No broken bones. Benjamin rattled my world, though his appointments were all about his thyroid. 

 

But this morning I googled homeopathy and sore throats. Mine has the sensation of a stick jabbing into it, and I recall seeing that as a defining symptom. Hepar sulph. Got it.

 

I browsed through the many possible remedies, which include specifics like "aggravated by cold drinks" and "worse in the morning." I like that I can figure it out without a medical degree or a full blown exam. 

 

I wonder about the possibility of a resource for marriage ills. 

 

There are common ailments in marriage that can be mitigated with simple suggestions. You don't necessarily need a graduate degree or intervention to find answers.

 

"Snuggle under the covers. Dine together slowly. Look into each other's eyes. Smile. Walk in the fresh air. Pray together. Look at photographs from your beginnings. Listen to music that has shared history. Hold hands. Breathe." 

 

Photo by Jenny Stein

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