Even in my own family two cases of such serious ailments happened, which I should like to mention. My mother lived a long life of 90 years and enjoyed perfect health of body and mind. However, when she was 75, she had an attack of pneumonia, and for the treatment, she was admitted to a local hospital.
Her condition, instead of improving, deteriorated day-by-day and during her one month’s stay in the hospital, she was reduced to a skeleton of bones, her disease getting worse and worse. As she was going down and down, one day, the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. B.C. Aitch, called me.
Being friendly he gave me a clear hint that my mother was sinking and that 1 should start ‘collecting wood’, for the last rites of my mother, as he said, and inform my other members of the family beforehand. Telegrams were sent to my brothers at Kanpur and Karnal and, filling the risk bond at the hospital, I brought back my mother home.
She had all along been complaining pain about her rectum. Though her condition being so weak, lent no hope of any physical treatment to her, yet I thought I should take the risk and just give her a warm enema. At the first enema, she did not respond. Nothing came out; only water.
I felt that there was big obstruction in the rectum. I again gave her enema and, with my cleaned hands, I inserted my right index finger in her rectum. By this manipulation I was able to push out a hard and solid piece of stool from her rectum. Then came rushing out and gushing forth a bucket-ful of stools.
My mother felt some relief and opened her eyes. I saw that hope was returning. This was followed by an intensive treatment of Nature-cure, packs, sponges enema and hot and cold baths, etc. She went on responding to my treatment and in a few months she was up on her feet again and lived the rest of her life till 90, like a woman of only fifty, hale and hearty.
The next family case. Who would dare to take risk by experimenting with the life of his only son? But a time came, when I had no option. Only three days before, my younger son, just two years old, had died of small pox. I was then at Sindri (Bihar).
Getting the shocking news, I reached my Delhi home to console my wife, but the situation did not warrant for me even to shed a tear, for I found that my elder son was down with high fever, at 104°F, in a state of delirium, evidently as a shock at the losing of his younger mate, his brother in the family.
Param Harsh started showing signs of chicken pox. I was facing a stark reality. One boy in the family had gone and the other was in uncertain condition. I was not to loose time. No medicine was to be given. I had no alternative, but to give him my own treatment.
I took courage and much against the entreaties of others in the family expressing fears that I might lose the elder son also, I brought some clean earth and gave my son a wet and cold mud-pack, plastering his whole body, except the face, with one-centimeter thick wet earth and covered his whole body with a blanket.
Wonderfully my son did not resist this, but cooperated. Apparently he was feeling comfortable, the temperature came down to 100°F in a few hours and by the evening it was normal. It was a moment of thanks-giving to the Almighty. All felt a sign of relief.
The chicken pox left and, after two days, I gave normal bath to my son, removing gently the plaster of earth. My son fully recovered. Param Harsh is now fifty and is an engineer, Living happily with his family, his wife, a son and a daughter.