I was down at Scheffe's Pharmacy this morning filling a prescription when I noticed a shelf of those over the counter medicines that you apply to minor cuts, scrapes, burns, and bug bites. There on the shelf was my old favorite from childhood: Bactine.
As a very active boy (just ask my mother - she might actually prefer to use the term "hyperactive"), I was always coming in scraped, scratched, burned, bit, poked, or cut. Such is the nature of being a kid who loved the outdoors. There was always something to cut, poke, bite, burn, scratch, or scrape you. My mom was a nurse and she could fix anything. She would always clean the wound, get out the metal box of Band-Aids and douse the afflicted area with some sort of sorcery that went by the name of Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood. This treatment was always more painful then the actual injury itself. I would often attempt to doctor myself just so I could avoid the evil brew in the dark glass bottle.
It wasn't just my mother who applied the venomous mixtures to injured children. School teachers also kept a first-aid box in their desks with Band-Aids and Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood. It was always frightening to hear a classmate scream out in pain after the teacher had chased him around the room three times, tackled him like a linebacker, and then applied the torture.
"Hold still, Johnnie!"
"But it huuuuuurts!"
"It does not. It will help you heal."
Then the Band-Aid was stuck on and Johnnie whimpered and sniffed his way back to his seat.
I have no idea what was in those dark glass bottles, but I know that the mixture was blood red, stank like a weapons factory, and burned like the very fires of hades. Somewhere along the line, praise be to God, some saint invented Bactine. Bactine was clear, came in a green bottle, and, although it smelled like a doctor's office, did not hurt when applied to a wound. From the first time I experienced Bactine, I would ask for it every time I was hurt. I didn't always get it, though. There were stockpiles of those acrid and vile medicines to be used up, and they used them up on me.
At the pharmacy today I took the time to diligently search through the shelf and see if Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood were still on the market. I found none. Let all of us who are over 40 now join together in singing the Doxology.
"Praise God from Whom all blessings flow...."
As a very active boy (just ask my mother - she might actually prefer to use the term "hyperactive"), I was always coming in scraped, scratched, burned, bit, poked, or cut. Such is the nature of being a kid who loved the outdoors. There was always something to cut, poke, bite, burn, scratch, or scrape you. My mom was a nurse and she could fix anything. She would always clean the wound, get out the metal box of Band-Aids and douse the afflicted area with some sort of sorcery that went by the name of Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood. This treatment was always more painful then the actual injury itself. I would often attempt to doctor myself just so I could avoid the evil brew in the dark glass bottle.
It wasn't just my mother who applied the venomous mixtures to injured children. School teachers also kept a first-aid box in their desks with Band-Aids and Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood. It was always frightening to hear a classmate scream out in pain after the teacher had chased him around the room three times, tackled him like a linebacker, and then applied the torture.
"Hold still, Johnnie!"
"But it huuuuuurts!"
"It does not. It will help you heal."
Then the Band-Aid was stuck on and Johnnie whimpered and sniffed his way back to his seat.
I have no idea what was in those dark glass bottles, but I know that the mixture was blood red, stank like a weapons factory, and burned like the very fires of hades. Somewhere along the line, praise be to God, some saint invented Bactine. Bactine was clear, came in a green bottle, and, although it smelled like a doctor's office, did not hurt when applied to a wound. From the first time I experienced Bactine, I would ask for it every time I was hurt. I didn't always get it, though. There were stockpiles of those acrid and vile medicines to be used up, and they used them up on me.
At the pharmacy today I took the time to diligently search through the shelf and see if Mercurichrome, Merthiolate, or Monkey Blood were still on the market. I found none. Let all of us who are over 40 now join together in singing the Doxology.
"Praise God from Whom all blessings flow...."
2 comments:
Rediculous to not be able to buy any Mercurichrome,
I'm with you, Dr. Mike! Bactine saved generations since ours the stinging torture we endured!
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