Recently I had two interesting and rather unusual experiences, which I may be permitted to relate as the basis of a few concurrent remarks upon “modern scientific medicine” and its tendencies. They occurred in the line of my regular work, but in a department of practice which I do not invade as often as I did before the automobile became the almost universal means of locomotion; namely, in veterinary medicine.
Now, I am not and have never pretended to be a veterinarian. But I love animals and birds and always have them around me as pets. I take great joy in them. Since boyhood and up to 1912 I always owned, rode or drove horses. To this day, if walking, I seldom can pass a horse standing at the curb without going over and having a little confab with him. It warms my heart to see his almost invariable response to my cheery “Hello Boy”; to rub his nose and tickle his chin and then have him muzzle me and pretend to bite my hand–but only with his lips; to talk to him, for he vibrates to the tones of the human voice. I have rarely failed to win these little signs of friendliness and appreciation of a caress from even those horses who, at first, lay back their ears and look forbidding. They always sense my love for them and respond in kind, after the first few moments of surprise, irritability or doubt, engendered by neglect, or the rough treatment they generally receive from their cold-blooded owners.
Always, when my own animals–horses, dogs, cats, canary birds, “love-birds,” and even, once, a white rat (whom the children judiciously named “Mr. Davie” so the cat would not know whom they were speaking to)–have been sick, I have treated them with homoeopathic medicines. Not infrequently I have prescribed for the pets of my friends or patients when they were sick. Some of the most remarkable cures I have ever made have been for these “little brothers of the rich.” (Anybody is “rich” who has the qualities that make animals love him.) I could tell some good stories about the treatment and cure by homoeopathic medication of animals; but this will suffice to introduce the first of my recent experiences.
During the past month (January) an epidemic of “distemper” and meningitis in animals broke out suddenly in various parts of the country, including New York City. The malady spread rapidly through the stables of kennels, until all or the greater part of the animals were affected. Few escaped some degree of the affection, even under the strictest regime of prophylaxis. All were seriously ill and many fine animals died, even in the most modern establishments with every resource and appliance of modern science at hand and applied by experts. All the resources of the Government departments and laboratories, as well as the research departments and specialists of the great Universities such as Harvard and Cornell, which deal with such conditions, have been called upon for aid.
All the serums and vaccines developed by these agencies have been used, and all to little or no avail. The epidemic sweeps on, taking its deadly toll, until it comes to an end spontaneously. There are those, candid and open-minded observers, who not only admit that the serums are a failure, but declare that in some instances they actually hastened the death or killed the animals to whom they are administered. Two owners who talked with me told of seeing some of their animals (foxes, in these instances) die within an hour or two after innoculation–animals which did not even appear to be sick but received the innoculation for immunization purposes.
The epidemic broke out in Brooklyn in the largest and finest riding and driving club in the city (of which I am a member). In spite of rigid quarantine and the use of serums, it spread rapidly. At least three (full knowledge is suppressed) prize winners, very famous and valuable animals, are known to have died. Others were seriously ill for many days or weeks before they recovered.
Among the horses in the club was one owned and ridden by my daughter. He was one of the last to succumb to the infection. We had thought he would escape. But the superintendent called me up one morning and informed me that the expected (by him) had occurred.
After having been ridden in the ring for about twenty minutes in the early morning and taken back to his stall, he refused food and drink, and laid down. His temperature was stated to be 104, and I was advised to act quickly and decide what was to be done. The superintendent was considerably disturbed because, by my advice, my daughter had refused to have immunizing injections done, thus subjecting herself (and me) to criticism by the veterinaries, members and officials of the club.
I went myself at once to take the case in hand and demonstrate the reliability and superiority of homoeopathic treatment. I examined the horse at 10 A. M. As he was led from his stall I noticed that he was weak, jerky and unsteady in his movements. His eyes were staring, with widely dilated pupils; conjunctivae and nasal mucous membranes were deeply reddened; a scanty, thin discharge bathed his nostrils; his breath was hot ; he frequently shook or tossed his head as if in pain ; and was easily startled by any movement near his head.
These symptoms, denoting cerebral congestion and beginning meningitis clearly called for Belladonna. I therefore prepared and administered by the mouth one dose of Bell. 30/ about 10 A. M., left one powder of the same to be given at 4 P.M., if the temperature had not fallen, and ordered him back to his stall.
The superintendent kept a straight face, but several grooms standing around looked at each other significantly, some with incredulous smiles, for the horse and his owner had been the subject of general discussion.
At 4 P. M., six hours after the dose was given, the superintendent called me up and excitedly told me that he had just taken the horses temperature and found it normal!.
“It is the most amazing thing I have ever seen–a temperature drop and result like that,” he said. “If I hadnt taken the temperature myself, I wouldnt have believed it”.
Veterinarians here have been heard to say that if they got the temperature in these cases down to normal in two weeks they considered that they were doing well. And as to immunizing injections, it is commonly said that it takes from two to three months for horses to recover from their effects.
What a beautiful system it is that practically disables a horse for three months for the sake of “immunizing” him against a disease which he may not get! And who knows just what is happening in that horses system while it is going on, or how much his vitality is impaired, his organs damaged, and his life shortened?.
The cure of my daughters horse was complete. The next day he was perfectly well and strong, and has remained so.
The second experience during the same period was a new one for me. The proprietor of several Black Fox Farms in the northern part of the State, for whom personally I had prescribed about a year ago, and who had been impressed by my method of analyzing and studying a difficult case (as well as by the results) called me up from his New York office one day and asked me, first, if I was interested in animals; and then, whether he might come to my office and talk over with me an epidemic which had broken out suddenly at two of his ranches and carried off several of his finest animals.
The epidemic was in full swing, he said, and nothing they had been able to do had been of the least benefit. The foxes were dying rapidly and he was in despair. I assured him that I was very much interested and should be glad to talk with him. He came at once, bringing with him memoranda of observations he and his helpers and veterinarians had made, and reports and letters from the heads of several laboratories to which bodies of dead animals had been sent for examination, diagnosis and suggestions as to treatment.
I spent two hours going over his data, questioning him on points that were not clear, making notes of laboratory findings, and writing out all available symptoms. Then I dismissed him with the promise that I would spend the evening in collating the facts and deciding upon the treatment, and telephone him the next morning.
It was one of the hardest evenings work I have done for a long time. The greatest difficulty was in the paucity and indefiniteness of symptoms upon which to base a prescription.
This arose, first, from the peculiar character of the animals themselves. The fox is a highly nervous, sensitive, timid animal. He is intelligent, resourceful, sly, furtive and secretive. He has great endurance and will keep on his feet when in danger until he drops from complete exhaustion. He is always alert, watchful, always fearful of danger. Consequently, when he is sick, sensing a peculiar danger, he will try to hide every evidence of it and keep going.
He is, therefore, very difficult to observe. Apparently well, he will sometimes suddenly curl up and die; but he will really have been ill for several days, hiding it from ordinary observation.
Allan D. Sutherland was born in Northfield, Vermont in 1897, delivered by the local homeopathic physician. The son of a Canadian Episcopalian minister, his father had arrived there to lead the local parish five years earlier and met his mother, who was the daughter of the president of the University of Norwich. Four years after Allan’s birth, ministerial work lead the family first to North Carolina and then to Connecticut a few years afterward.
Starting in 1920, Sutherland began his premedical studies and a year later, he began his medical education at Hahnemann Medical School in Philadelphia.
Sutherland graduated in 1925 and went on to intern at both Children’s Homeopathic Hospital and St. Luke’s Homeopathic Hospital. He then was appointed the chief resident at Children’s. With the conclusion of his residency and 2 years of clinical experience under his belt, Sutherland opened his own practice in Philadelphia while retaining a position at Children’s in the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department.
In 1928, Sutherland decided to set up practice in Brattleboro.