In June, 1927, it seemed as if I were doomed to invalidism, and might become permanently mentally unbalanced, so many types of sickness held me in bondage. I had been considered delicate since childhood, and had been a great sufferer from headaches, from which I had gained only temporary relief through the use of narcotics or opiates—administered by well-meaning medical doctors. The constant use of such drugs, however, caused me to become a sad victim; and a complete nervous breakdown was the result.
At this time I had not recovered from a very serious antrum infection, for which I had undergone five operations and continuous treatment for five years, including X-ray treatments; but the headaches grew steadily worse. I had also submitted to several operations for hemorrhoids, and had taken medicine for constipation for at least twenty-five years, never getting any permanent help, and being told that the most I could do would be to change medicines from time to time.
On account of the nervous breakdown I had been in bed about eighteen months, was on a strict diet, and weighed only ninety-eight pounds. I had also been told by a diagnostician that I was suffering from a sagging stomach, for which there was no cure.
