......This pervasive bias against alternative therapy has elicited some interesting comments on the subject from establishment members. The Lancet prints a column in which questions are asked of prominent physicians and educators. Questions such as who was your most influential teacher; what is your greatest love [or pleasure, fear, regret, etc]; how do you relax; how do you want to die and other probes intended to bring out the essence of the individual. A pair of questions often answered: What alternative therapies have you tried? Did they work?
......Some answers: "Absolutely not!" [7-1-98]. "Alcohol." [7-25-98]. "You must be joking!" [10-3-98]. "None. But I have spent...time defending the right of...zanies, oddballs and fanatics to pursue their dubious visions of healing." [10-17-98]. "I haven't tired any alternative therapy and it has worked so far." [10-31-98]. "I'm saving alternative therapies until I succumb to an alternative disease." [11-14-98]. "None. If they worked they'd no longer be alternative." [12-19/26-98].
......Ponder whether the editor would have printed this answer: "If certain alternative therapies had been evaluated in fair trials they would no longer be alternative."
......We shouldn't omit comments by those who were not so biased that curiosity was stifled. Examples: "About a million. Currently flaxseed oil---and who knows, maybe this one will work!" [2-6-97]. "Broccoli, soy milk, green tea. I'll find out in 50 years." [5-1-99]. One felt echinacea worked [5-23-98]. Another favored vitamins and minerals [1-2-99]. And one was so bold as to admit that he'd tried C for a cold but wasn't sure it worked [8-1-98].
......A gentleman began his reply with: "A certain disregard, or even contempt, for our minor ailments is a therapy that is not used often enough" [1-9-99].
......Be aware, however, that pinpointing the fine line between a minor and a major ailment is not always easy. To guess wrong could be disastrous.
......A problem I encountered arose because of contempt for a minor ailment along with an inability to locate the line between it and a major illness. I felt so well armored with high-dose C that no disease could reach me. I'd had no pain at all from a prostate "reaming" at age 70 while the groans of others in adjoining rooms were somewhat unsettling. Whoever said C is absolutely super as a painkiller was correct [at least for that condition but a stone in the ureter is another matter]. Ten years later, still taking 16 grams a day, I continued to feel great. Sure, the aging hulk was lower in the water but had no list to port or starboard.
......The ear had begun to itch occasionally, however. I increased the daily dose to 18 grams, then to 20 soon afterward. The need for so much so soon should have alerted me, I suppose, that something more than normal aging was increasing the demand.
......The spring of 1997 marked the beginning of this increased requirement, when, after I'd turned 80, thinking I was 40, I decided to extent a concrete driveway alongside the garage. I used a mixer because the job was too small and access too limited for delivery by truck. After starting, one must continue working at a concrete job until it's finished, come hell or Murphy's law, the equivalent, which is sure to kick in. Inhaling cement dust that hung in the air like fog during the windless day while I pitched shovelful of ingredients into the hungry mixer was no great comfort either. But I was only working beyond the point of exhaustion, as was my custom, confident that high-dose C would bounce the body back to normal in a day or two.
......The bounce-back was not 100%. Inhaled cement dust may have limited it. Alkaline particles could have weakened lung tissue and invited infection. In midsummer, after a few more hare-work periods to show contempt for the minor ailment, pneumonia became a threat. Six different antibiotics in succession failed to banish the feeling that the lungs were not up to par.
......I visited a pulmonary specialist. While pondering the results of a standard checkup plus my answers to questions, he wondered whether I could tell the difference between bronchitis, heartburn, hunger and a gas pocket. His diagnosis: gastroesophageal reflux---heartburn. On thinking about it, heartburn could be expected because of my routine: a snack plus 4 grams of ascorbic acid just before bedtime. Topping off a little food with an acid drink is not a good idea. Along with the usual advice for handling heartburn, the doctor prescribed cisapride, trade name Propulsid, to promote movement of food out of the stomach.