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me on a journey to find others. It turns out almost every used-book store has one or two of them, and though they differ in content and philosophy, they are similar in the impressive medical pedigrees of their authors and in the certitude with which they deliver remedies. One of these, the
Obstetrical Journal of Great Britain and Ireland
(1873), reports favorable results from the treatment of constipation with arsenic.
    The
Text-Book of the Principles and Practices of Nursing
(third edition, 1938) prescribes, for the treatment of a persistent cough, heroin.
Lessons in Physiology and Hygiene,
a medical text published in 1895, observes that the size of one’s brain is directly proportional to one’s intelligence and then dryly notes, without further comment, that women have smaller brains than men.
    In the 1875
Nashville Journal of Medicine,
a Dr. Bowling advises that persons permanently refrain from eating any fruits or vegetables. They can be deadly, he says, citing several rather thincase studies, including this one: “One of the most beautiful and accomplished young ladies in the city ate two or three pickles, and died.”
    It was after reading some of these books that I entered the hospital for some minor outpatient surgery. There, I entrusted myself to an excellent doctor of my acquaintance, one of the very best physicians and surgeons of modern practice. He gave me a marshmallow enema.
    Just kidding! That would have been ridiculous! We have come a long way since then. No, the doctor stabbed me in the side with a gigantic needle and yanked out a little plug of flesh, just to see what it was made of.
    I was not at all concerned.
    Why should I be?
    He assured me this was One of the Most Approved Remedies and Methods of Treatment Known to Advanced Practitioners.
    I am certain that a hundred years from now, it will not look at all foolish.
    1 Have you ever read the vaunted Hippocratic oath? It is loony. It begins by swearing allegiance to “all the gods and goddesses.” Then it promises to revere the person who taught you medicine and support him financially. Then it says abortion sucks. Only then does it get down to business, saying you should not be greedy, should cause no injury, should respect your patient’s privacy, and should not sleep with her.
    2 Actually, his hearing was never much to begin with; when I was a lad, I would frequently make some innocuous statement at the dinner table-say, “I got a B on my final”—and find out weeks later that my father believed I’d said I had gotten beer on my vagina, but was too polite to inquire further.
    3 Medical quackery has a long and storied history. When King Charles II of England suffered a minor stroke in 1685, the finest medical minds of the time were summoned to the royal bedchambers. First, to rid the king’s body of all poisons, they drained him of a quart of blood. Then they further desiccated him with emetics and enemas. Over the next few days they shaved the king’s scalp and singed it with hot irons. They crammed sneezing powder in his nose and let him blast out his few remaining drops of liquid. They slathered his body with sticky hot plasters, and then, when they hardened, ripped them off; by this time, Charles was doubtless too weak to scream. The monarch was sinking rapidly. But the doctors were on top of it. They were giants of their profession. They drilled holes in his head, to drain off the bad humors and a few more pints of blood. Alas, it was no use. Five days after the treatment began, the king breathed his last, effusively thanking his physicians for their heroic efforts to save him.

Man. Woman. Birth. Death. Infirmity.

    You would think that as medicine has become more sophisticated, the incidence of hypochondria would diminish. It hasn’t. By all accounts, it is increasing.
    There are three reasons. The first is medical insurance. To understand the insidious impact of medical insurance on