A Little Dab'll Do Ya!

Courtesy Of Medieval Medicinal Purveyors

Velociman is expounding on the merits of Bactine this week. Claims it's good for everything from sunburn to Dutch Elm disease. Maybe even the heartbreak of psoriasis.

Lucky sod. We weren't so lucky as to have Bactine for our little cuts, scrapes and assorted boo-boos of youth. Oh, no. We weren't even given the mercy of hydrogen peroxide.

Mom was a firm believer in nipping any potential infection right in the puckered rosebud. Show up in the house with any part of your epidermis unzipped, and you were whisked off to the bathroom for your treatment.

First, the dousing in hot water, to clear away the blood, grass bits, and gravel/glass/macadam that obscured the path to cleanliness. Then, the liberal pouring of the isopropyl alcohol. Full strength. At a cost of 49 cents the bottle way back when, she'd splash on sufficient alcohol to degrease your average diesel locomotive, ignoring the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth of her offspring.

Then, it was time for the Magical Unguent of Healing. Stuff called ichthammol. Came in a crinkled & dented aluminum tube that must've dated from the Eisenhower era. The ointment was as thick as toothpaste, and black as coal. She'd smear a dab of that gunky stuff onto a Bandaid, then slap it on tight, so the ichthammol oozed out the edges. Stuff used to freak out the neighbor kids, who all seemed to use nice clean-looking Bactine or Neosporin.

Got to the point we didn't mention any of our bumps & dings to Mom. We feared the taunts of the neighbor kids about her "voodoo axle-grease treatment" more than any incipient infection.

Turns out you can still buy ichthammol. Nowadays it's sold to veterinarians.

For horses...