Several years ago, I found myself under a dreadful bondage of sickness and pain, attended by physicians, nurses, and despairing loved ones, who ministered at my bedside many weary months, with unceasing devotion and much medicine, after the orthodox custom. Finally I got up and around after a fashion—a very poor one. Doctors said my nervous system was damaged beyond repair; that I would never be strong again. The next few years seemed to confirm this decree. One complication followed another.
However, a change of physician and treatment seemed, at times, to promise relief. I would get out among my friends a few times, then be down bedfast for weeks. Thus years passed away, pain and suffering driving me to the verge of insanity. At last the surgeon's knife promised the only relief. The attending physician said I must be sent to New York to a noted specialist, and maybe my health could be restored. My husband always drew the line of his endeavors at an operation, so this was postponed.
In the mean time, vigorous dietetics were followed, as I had grown to have acute stomach trouble, attended by spasms, which were all the time of more frequent occurrence, and every organ in my body seemed more or less diseased.
