I have a theory that engaged, wise grandmothers could save families a lot of money by helping avoid hospital visits. Personally, my grandmothers were very important to my well-being as a child. Not only did they feed and dote on me, they kept me healthy and safe.
I remember the time I made a spear out of a sharpened stick. (OK, one of the times.) I was running with it, and as I drew back my arm to fling it across the field at an imaginary enemy on some ancient field of battle, I must have stumbled. It ended up going through the top of my shoe and between two toes, scraping them on the way to the ground. ‘Good heavens,’ thought I (not given to profanity at that tender age). ‘I’ve chopped me toe off!’
I limped to the big white house under the maples where Grandma Leap helped me take off my blood-soaked shoe, cleaned the wound, probably applied Merthiolate (didn’t we all spend our summers painted orange?), and said ‘don’t tell your grandpa, he worries!’ Maybe she knew he’d take my now cool, blood-stained spear away. I was none the worse for the wear. It was probably good that I hadn’t learned to fashion a metal spearhead yet.
I have seen injuries like this time and time again in the emergency room. Relatively minor affairs; scrapes, bumps, bruises, stings, nevertheless brought to the hospital by anxious mothers and fathers, new to parenthood or simply far more worried than necessary.
I also remember the smell of Vicks Vaporub, slathered across my coughing, wheezing chest. I remember cool cloths applied during fevers. My grandmothers had those simple skills down pat. Honestly, I don’t ever remember coming to the hospital for a fever as a child. And yet, fever is one of the most common complaints for which parents bring kids to the hospital.
‘He started having a fever an hour ago, so we rushed him to the hospital!’
‘Did you give him anything for the fever?’
‘Nope, we just came straight away. We freaked out and decided it was better safe than sorry!’
I hear that a lot. There was a bruise. ‘I freaked out.’ There was a tick, ‘I freaked out.’ There was a rash. ‘I freaked out.’ The baby’s nose was congested. ‘I freaked out.’ Freaking out never helps anything. And from what I can remember, it was simply something my grandmothers never did. Their job was to draw on centuries of collected cultural and family wisdom, apply personal experience, mix it all with loving attention (and food), and bring calm to all situations. Or bring switches as the situation required.
I’m not suggesting that a family member is all that’s necessary in times of medical need. And admittedly, there are plenty of grandmothers who are as ‘freaked out’ as everyone else. (I’ve met them.) Furthermore, lots of grandmothers and grandfathers are already engaged as full-time, primary caregivers of their children’s children and need all the help we can offer as professionals. God bless them.
However, it seems to me that we have an unholy confluence of problems that make people seek healthcare for things our ancestors wouldn’t, or couldn’t have. First of all, families are separated for various reasons from wise older relatives; or don’t have any at all due to death or distance. Or sometimes because those relatives aren’t helpful. Being old, after all, doesn’t make you wise. And if those grandparents are substance addicted, they probably aren’t the best choice for parental wisdom.
Second, people have 24/7 access to online health information that often only increases fear. Someone once said that online medical advice was like a ‘write your own ending’ novel where the final chapter is always cancer.
Third, we have enormous numbers of young individuals and parents who never learned much about their own bodies (well, some things they learned, but not nearly enough). Add that to the general increase in anxiety across the land and families are completely overwhelmed by the sorts of ailments that have afflicted mankind since well before modern medicine existed.
It seems to me that with our long history of self-sufficiency, and our deep-rooted connections to place and family, American grandmothers could make a real difference in an era of limited medical access, coupled with enormous medical anxiety.
What we need to do first is educate young people about how to give simple medical care to themselves and others. First-responder and First-Aid/CPR courses are a great place to start. Next, those of use who are more experienced can reach out to young people and young families; neighbors, church-members, strangers at the food-bank, and offer to be there to teach them how to manage life situations. And how not to ‘freak out.’
And maybe, what we really need is a vast ‘Volunteer Grandma Corps,’ willing to swoop in and help young parents by sharing their wisdom, calm and perspective. And maybe by just cuddling those sick babies and making soup while mom and dad breathe.
It worked for untold millennia. It could work again.
Just saw this article today on evidence for why grandmothers were essential for human evolution. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/new-evidence-that-grandmothers-were-crucial-for-human-evolution-88972191/
My grandmother used (1960s, very small midwestern town, Population <400)to make a poultice out of raw egg yolk and salt. She’d smear that on the injury, wrap gauze around it, then a few strips of tape to hold the gauze in place. She said the salt would stop the infections and the protein from the egg yolk helped the skin to heal.