Ancient medical techniques and things that go bump in the night

It’s no wonder the average life expectancy is higher than it was hundreds of years ago after you do a little research on ancient medical techniques. You’ll also wonder how the hell we went from bloodletting and ointments made of animal crap to robot surgery.

If the actual practice of medicine throughout its history doesn’t terrify you, the pictures used by physicians surely will:

Are those lungs or an egg hatching some sort of alien?

D’aww these cadaver models were probably in a relationship.

RIP Chewie? 😥

 

So, basically no sane child ever wanted to be a doctor after looking through anatomy books in school – which left it to the nuts. Maybe that explains why medieval medicine was so terrifying.

Anywho, whatever your ailment, there was a technique that probably wouldn’t work:

The flayed cat
Members of thefeline family would need to pray to the cat god they didn’t lose one of their nine lives if they noticed a human suffering from a sore throat.

If you suffered from this side effect of a common cold you would be instructed to kill and flay a fat cat. Wait. It gets better. After cleaning out its innards, you’d stuff it with the grease of a hedgehog (what?), bear fat, sage, virgin wax (huh?) and fenugreek (come again?) Then you’d roast this sore-thoat-killing version of a turducken, and rub it on your body.

K.

Trephination 
You might think twice about complaining about your migraine if you existed between 6500 B.C. and the 18th Century. Yup, it literally took thousands and thousands of years for us to figure out drilling a hole through a human skull doesn’t cure a damn thing.

Trephination was a surgical intervention used to treat everything from headaches to epilepsy for God knows what reason. The scariest part of this horrific medical treatment from our history aside from the fact that morphine didn’t exist? People survived.

“It literally took thousands and thousands of years for us to figure out drilling a hole through a human skull doesn’t cure a damn thing.”

Bloodletting 
Another medical treatment that lasted far too long was bloodletting. Originating in ancient Egypt, doctors performed this surgery for thousands of years, and mighty (dumb) Hippocrates’ theory that illness was caused by an imbalance of your four basic humors – black bile, yellow bile, blood and phlegm – was the culprit.

Naturally this led to the popular cure-all. Doctors would nick a vein and drain, baby, drain, or release leaches onto the patient’s body for a nice feeding.

By getting rid of all that bad blood, the patient would obviously feel better. There’s a Taylor Swift joke in there somewhere, but ehhhhh.

This practice was so popular and widely accepted as effective and worthwhile that barbers even listed it among their other routine services, like haircuts and shaves.

Cannabis now, cannibalism then
You’re likely familiar with all the controversy surrounding medicinal marijuana, but it doesn’t compare to the disputes that would arise from this disturbingly common medical practice of yesteryear.  Affectionately called “corpse medicine,” this cure is exactly what it sounds like. Doctors would literally prescribe the flesh and bones of dead people to cure a damn headache or tummy ache.

In fact, people were so sure consuming dead human parts would cure any ailment they would attend executions in hopes of swiping a nice refreshing jug of blood.

So next time you complain about vaccines or that you can’t take drink while on antibiotics, think about all the progress we’ve made and remember the poor, poor souls who were patients before your time.

Why you should follow Ayesha Curry right now

Let me put it this way – I started writing this article about an hour earlier, but Ayesha’s Instagram was a wormhole of utter awesome.

Now, some of you might already know of her hubby. He’s that young-looking, adorable beast of a ball player who cannot be stopped. While this 185-pound baby-faced assassin drains threes like it’s his job – mostly because it is – his wife, Ayesha Curry dominates the game of life.

From purchasing an automatic toilet that ignited a 46-point-getting-force to Dubsmashing the night away, Ayesha Curry is the real first round pick.

Here are five reasons your life and feed need Ayesha:

You need a little R&R
Yes, everyone would benefit from a 7-day trip to bed, but that isn’t what I’m talking about. I’m talking about this. Seriously. Click on that…I mean this…literally any of these.

Riley and Ryan Curry are just about the most adorable children on the planet.

Like

I CAN’T

I CAN’T EVEN

Steph and Ayesha, if you ever read this, I would gladly accept autographs/babysit for you/adopt your kids. Also, please don’t be freaked out by clear obsession with your family.

There’s more than Curry on the menu (no she isn’t a swinger) 
Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about food. Serious, wonderful, serious food. Steph Curry might be a star on the court, but Chef Curry IS AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN RUNNING HER OWN BUSINESS and a star in the kitchen.

Her blog, Little Lights of Mine, archives tons of awesome recipes that I hate to admit I’ve never tried. Mostly because I’m back on Insta checking out her Dubsmash gems.

The woman even has her own line of olive oil! You know who also had a line of olive oil? The Godfather.

Vito Corleone watching a video of Riley Curry doing the Nae Nae.

Her rendition of Baby Got Back
This is the third time you will hear me mention Dubsmash. Well, I’m not breaking the rule of three, so I can’t mention it again. I think this video just about sums up how awesome Queen Ayesha makes it.

I’m sure at this point you’ve already been tempted to check out her Insta yourself. Scroll on through and click! click! click! Steph even makes a few appearances.

Somehow she makes everything a little cooler 
If a woman can make a toilet cool, you owe it to that woman to follow her on Instagram. Ayesha manages to turn even the weirdest things into something we can all get behind.

Don’t believe me? Check it out:

Duck face

This boy

Puns (thank God)

Vintage photos of Steph Curry
Love basketball? Think you might like basketball? Wondering whether you learned basketball in gym class? No matter your bball IQ, everyone can appreciate old photographs of Golden State’s Golden Boy.

Pre-NBA Steph

Still not convinced? Something is entirely wrong with you, and I don’t know if you can be fixed.

Curry judging you…hard.

 

 

My little Czech gut and why it wasn’t my fault

Most Czech dishes consist of a serving of dumplings, a serving of butter, a serving of salt, and a serving of bread. Meals are eaten at your typical times, and tiny snacks are sprinkled liberally in between each coma-causing feast. No matter how hard any person tries, a couple weeks with this diet, and you too would be sporting a handsome little tummy pouch. Czech food masters the art of squishing an obscene amount of calories into each and every meal. Hopefully I will soon master the art of squishing my butt into my jeans again.

When I talk about dumplings, they aren’t anything like the noodle-y goodness you get when you order Chinese food. These dumplings come in a variety of shapes and textures. Typically, they all have three things in common. They are delicious, there is butter inside of them, and they manage to compress about 500 mouth-watering calories inside themselves. For each meal, you get about three or four of these boogers.

Butter and salt are also two dishes included in each meal. If you are observant, you have noticed that I have used the word ‘serving’ and ‘dish’ to describe these two items. That’s because butter and salt are used very liberally here. Take your hand and form a fist. Now take your other hand and make a fist. Press your two fists together, and voila. That is about the typical amount of butter used for on Czech meal. Salt is used a bit more sparingly. I would say one solo fist is about the correct amount. This all tastes like a giant party. Even my blood pressure is raising the roof.

My white-lady DNA strikes again–bread is an awful concentrated concoction of slow burning carbs, right? It sits right up there next to pasta and cotton candy as the worst foods you can possibly put into your body. Well, it is delicious, and it is served (with lots of butter) at every single Czech meal. Ultimately, I decided to just give in and eat cotton candy and pasta in between bites of warm and flaky carbolicious processed wheat. You only have this life to live, right? Unless you are Jesus.

Now, I’ve had a lot of trouble finding a drink to enjoy at meals that isn’t always beer. I need something good to wash down all these calories. Sparking water makes me gassy and still water gets old after awhile. One day, I decided, “Hey! I could use a glass of milk with my bowl of butter!” So, I grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge and poured myself a glass. It took a little longer than I was used to. The milk slid out of the container like trix go-gurt. I took a drink and let the heavy cream slip down my throat and into my belly. Mmmmmmm…more calories to go with my calories. *Homer Simpson voice* I don’t really drink milk here anymore. If there is one thing that is easy to cut out of my increasingly unhealthy diet, it’s thick milk. That shit can GTFO. I’ll have a beer instead.

 

Dental Care

There are lots of reasons that I avoid the dentist. The most prevalent reason is because they damned me to an existence without one of my deepest desires. I always wanted braces, but no matter the dentist in no matter the city, they always told me how perfect my teeth were. It crushed me–like boulders pressing into my chest–squeezing my heart until it stopped beating. These men and women of teeth had cursed me to a life as an outsider. Everyone I knew had braces–except for me–lonely, pitiful, braceless me.  Everyone could talk about the new colours they were getting at their next appointment, whine about the foods they couldn’t eat, and complain about the pain they were experiencing. I would quietly sit in the corner staring longingly at their beautiful metal smiles as I played with my only companion–a three hundred piece puzzle of Burger King’s logo. I wish that just once, I could at least experience what it was like to leave early from school for an orthodontist appointment.

The mouth of one of the popular girls

Not only did these various dentists sentence me to a life without beautiful silvery colours bracketed across my teeth, but they also only seemed to ever have appointment openings early on Saturday mornings. Tired and weak from a late night of cartoons and throwing stuffed animals at my younger sister, I would trudge to my mom’s minivan in an angry daze. When we finally got to the dentist’s office, it would be a series of waiting. I would wait next to the fish tank, I would wait in the dentist chair for my cleaning, I would wait for my dentist to check on my chompers, and after it was all over, I would have to wait thirty minutes before I could eat anything. Dentist offices across the globe are cruelly cultivating patience in the most barbaric fashion.

Of course, I dislike dentists for many other reasons, but those are small unnecessary details for the story I am about to share with you. If you have been following my blog, or if you are a friend of mine, you are aware that I am currently living in the Czech Republic. My European experience is no different from any other American’s really–on a daily basis I question whether or not the delicious cheap beer is really worth the absence of ranch and Mexican food in my life. It’s a complicated existence, but I’ll continue posting beautiful pictures on my Instagram no matter how troubled I am.

You might gather that since there are many things different about Europe, the dentist might be a little bit different as well. You gather correctly. Before you decide to break it off with your current American dentist and frolic across Europe in search of a new exotic tooth artist, continue reading. First and foremost, the waiting still sucks. Secondly, I didn’t actually have an appointment, so I can’t speak on behalf of the whole question-asking-while-tools-are-inside-your-mouth, and I know that that detail is imperative. I merely entered a dentist office because it was part of an errand. So, as I arrived at the small private dentist office nuzzled cozily on the outside of Prague, I was first greeted by a lovely lady behind a desk. She spoke Czech, so I have no idea what she said, but I definitely caught the words “slaughter” and “pool”.  That’s about when the dentist strolled up. From his waist up he looked like an ordinary American dentist. From his waist down, he sported gym shorts and socks with sandals. Sadly, this was not the most shocking part. The most shocking part was the giant sloppy kiss he planted on me as a greeting. Now, I have lived here for about two months. I know it isn’t a culture thing–no one has kissed me while greeting me. There have been some cheek to cheek greetings where you make a kissing noise, but that’s only been from grandmas. So, I was incredibly shocked and weirded out. I can only assume this is some dark magic voo-doo practice that European dentists have concocted. They have trumped American dentists by finding yet another way to make visits to their lairs even more horrific. I might go so far to say, that I am a little thankful that I still have my American dentist. Yes, I will go so far to say that I am glad Dr. Josh simply asks what college I went to every time I visit him; however I will add that my insistent hatred of dentist offices has now blossomed into a global affair.

Why Running Sucks: It Might Not Be Why You Think!

The most difficult part of running begins long before your actually pound the pavement. It starts when you make the decision to go for a run. Your mind has to convince not only your body, but itself, that this torture is worth it in some way. So, you set your alarm an hour earlier than you have to be out the door because God knows you won’t get up right away. You are going to wallow in your blankets and sheets trying to decide whether or not this run is actually worth leaving the warm cocoon you have nuzzled your bones into. Eventually you will sit up. Praise the Lord, you are vertical–sort of. You will look down at your chubby little stomach and frown at it. Blame the stomach. Use the stomach. Kill the stomach.

Now you have a little encouragement. Your feet might even plant themselves on the ground–or maybe they will just remain inches above–hovering like tiny UFOs over giant farmhouses. No matter where your body is, your mind is moving. This is key. You promised that you wouldn’t back out. Think about the super great profile picture you want–the one where you don’t crop any part of your body out because, damn–you look good everywhere. You’ll glance at the clock, and give yourself ten minutes. Ten minutes and you will be out that door–wait–ten minutes and you will be putting a sports bra on. Yes. That’s it. The sports bra will guarantee that you tread along that course you’ve plotted out in your mind. Why? Because they are really hard to get on and off–a good one that is. A good sports bra is tight and hardly stretches around your head or elbows, so when you get it on–you better be getting use out of it.

Ten minutes pass, the bra has been maneuvered onto your boobs, and you’ve started negotiating a shorter distance with yourself. Just when you thought it was going to get easier, a new challenge is afoot. You know you’re supposed to run 10 miles for your training program, but maybe you could get away with 5–or 3. As long as you’re moving it’s good, right? Now you have created an internal dilemma with a steamy pile of guilt. It’s kind of like when you were babysitting and stealing more food than you should have. You love ice cream sandwiches and chicken nuggets dearly, but could you really leave the family with nothing to eat for the week?

After you finally convince yourself that you are a terrible person if you don’t fulfill your obligation in its entirety, you finally lace up and head to the door. You’ve got your iPad or Zune thing that never caught on (maybe that’s why their firing all those employees…), you pop those earbuds in before lift off, and you hit play. The screen goes black, and your little running companion has died. You throw your head up toward the sky, reach your arms out in agony, and let out a baboonish yell before heading inside and definitively deciding you will post-pone your run until the universe is on your side.

Things That Are Popular in Europe (From Worst to Best)

1.  Sandals at the Gym

The only guy that can wear sandals at the gym is Jesus—and that’s only because he can do whatever the heck he wants. Also, I think that’s the only pair of shoes he owns. Everyone else needs to invest in a pair of sneakers—or at least close-toed shoes. For one thing, it’s gross. I don’t want to look at the hangnail on your big toe while I’m pumping iron. Also, have you not seen all the terrifying videos on YouTube regarding gym injuries? Bros, if you keep those damn flip-flops on, the only thing that’s gonna get swol are your toes.

2. Topless little girls

If you are on a beach, at a pool, or near any form of water that a toddler can splash in, you are bound to see female pee-wees running around half naked. I suppose it is really embarrassing to have tan lines, and they don’t technically have boobs yet, so why not? Why not?!!! Well, for starters—what about that creepy man wearing coke-bottle glasses, and petting the tiny albino mouse on his lap? Wait—that’s not a mouse!

 

My sister and me as victims (circa 1997)

3. Basically, My 7^th Grade Year

Alright Millennials, who remembers middle school? Who remembers dragging your mother into Hollister and Abrecrombie and Fitch every chance that you got? *shivers* You know what else is dark and has a strong distinct odor? Hell. I know this because one time, I was there. For some reason, these two stores made a huge comeback in Europe. The only thing that I can hope is that the scent doesn’t waft over to the States.

4. Wifi

Dear America,

I don’t know what is taking so long. Why don’t you have Wifi everywhere like a normal country?

Ugh,

-Cassidy

5. Knowing, Like Three Languages

Dear America,

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Why do you insist on making us dumb? Do you not see the benefits of bilingual education? You have forced me to attempt to learn Spanish using a shitty iPhone App and let Czech children teach me words like “poop” in another language.

Ugh, (again—but, like I still love you)

-Cassidy

How Aliens Would Interpret These Five Earth Names

We’ve assigned aliens quite a few dumb names: Mac, E.T., Experiment 626, Bumblebee, Mac (again), Superman, even  Gary Busey–the list goes on and on. Generally speaking, very little creativity goes into what we call our space neighbors. On the contrary, parents spend countless hours with their noses in baby name books searching for the perfect name for their human bundles of joy. So what exactly would an alien think of an earth name? Well after some super legitimate input from the universe on five different Earth names, it is clear that aliens might deserve those wAcKy names after all!

Also looks like the surprised emoji (see last post)

Michael:

“The name Michael gained wide popularity after the 1996 movie starring an Earth actor named John. There is some confusion as to why the name “Michael” gained more popularity than “John”, but some alien Earthists believe it was due to the really awesome wings that the “Michael” character had during the film. John had nothing that Michael didn’t, and when humans name babies, they want them to be associated with names that have cooler things. There is some research that suggests the name “Michael” can be translated to “Got to have faith-da-faith-da-faith”, but it’s a rough translation from an ancient Earth language and unreliable” -Dr. Kang Green E.T. (Rigel IV)

Eleni:

“I think Hercules invented the name Eleni. If you watch the 1997 Earth children’s movie about the life of Hercules backwards while listening to Jennifer Anniston’s voice and wearing a Giannis Antetokounmpo jersey, you will get one clear message: Hercules came up with the name Eleni. Supposedly it’s just a universal legend, but, like, my boyfriend’s sister’s pet Flondorp was being watched by a female from Uranus last weekend that did it. And it worked.” -Dlan E.T. (Amphibios 9)

Paige:

“Reading has become such a hard thing for humans to do since the invention of palm pilots in 1998. This technology has stormed Earth, and humans now have everything downloaded directly into their minds now. Some particluarly nostalgic humans decided to name their Earth babies after one of the key elements of reading: paiges.  Paiges are tiny markings that represent meanings and ideas. They are printed on these things called ‘words’. If you are named ‘Paige’ on Earth, your parents are super old fashioned, and you probably will get grounded a lot.” – Kodus Kogen E.T. (Rigel IV)

Katelyn:

“Katelyn is derived from the human word ‘cat’. Earth cats have been worshiped throughout Earth history–and rightfully so. Egyptians idolized them with statues and modern humans with the internet boom of 1999. Although Earth cats are not as advanced as some other felines of the universe, they have clearly impacted their world greatly, and we deeply admire them for what they have done.” -Snowball 9 E.T. (Thuban)

Molly:

“A strong female name that echoes the strong Earth food it was derived from: mole sauce. Mole sauce has been an integral part of the human diet. It provides strength, nutrients, and flavor to foods that may otherwise be flavorless and dull. There are 2000 different spellings of the name “Molly” and 2000 different ways to prepare the delicious sauce. You can order it through a universal sauce portal for super cheap. I have a coupon if you would like to try it!” -Tzzzh E.T. (Gazorpazorp)

 

 

Curious what aliens might think of your name? Chat with a little green man today! Follow me for updates 😉

#Pray4Cass

One night during my eighth grade year I was spending the night at a new friend’s house. Naturally, I got my period that night, so I asked if I could borrow a tampon *insert ‘why would you want to give it back’ joke*. My friend directed me to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.  I did not find tampons. I found tiny cotton bullets. These things were no larger than my smallest finger, and they lacked the most essential part of any feminine product: a plastic applicator.

Let me back up for any gentlemen whose eyes might be grazing these words–a plastic applicator is more than just some plastic thing on a tampon. It is a hot cup of soup and shelter on a dark and stormy night. It is the box of tissues next to the throne in case you run out of toilet paper. It is taco Tuesday at your favorite Mexican place. Basically, it just makes sense. If a tampon doesn’t have a plastic applicator, it’s a foreign cotton swab that can be used to absorb stuff. You spend over thirty-seven minutes in the bathroom trying to insert the damn thing, until finally you decide to just steal a maxi pad instead. There is nothing worse than these little boogers–except maybe everyone’s Facebook posts about Hobby Lobby. Thankfully, this had been my only run in with these atrocities–until now.

I knew when I went to Europe things would be different. I would find the toilet flusher on the top of the toilet. I would have to start drinking more beer because it is cheaper than water. And I would have to adapt to new plugins that looked like surprised emojis.

Adorable.

What I didn’t anticipate was a nightmare I hadn’t even given a moment’s thought to in nearly a decade. Yes, Europeans don’t have plastic applicators on their tampons. I scavenged through the aisles of a local drug store for nearly an hour. When I finally worked up the courage to ask the store clerk where the sane tampons were in broken Czechlish, she responded that they do not carry that type of feminine product (in perfect English of course).  So, I bought a package of maxi pads and headed home like this:

I am currently accepting prayers and boxes of unscented Tampax regulars. I appreciate any and all support during this difficult time. #Pray4Cass

Why You Should Not Add Random People You Meet on Social Media

Facebook has grown into a wonderful and useful tool used to connect with other people. It’s a great way to share pictures, links, stories, and just about anything with a group of ‘friends.’ What sucks is that it’s a great way to share pictures, links, stories, and just about anything with a group of ‘friends.’ I want to emphasize that what makes facebook work so well is exactly what makes it terrifyingly awful. Case in point: my new friend…ehhhh let’s call him Oliver. I met Oliver the other day at a pub. I was very excited to speak English with another person, so we had a beer. He was a grandfather and really liked talking about his recent vacation to Thailand. We finished our brews, and I said that I was going to head home. Before I left, we decided to connect through Facebook. I was even the one who suggested it. Yes, I’m an idiot. Mom and Dad, you can reprimand me all you want. I found his profile, added him, and headed home.

 

When I awoke the next morning, I checked my email, twitter, Instagram, and then finally, the book of faces.Holy cow–I kid you not, there were 22 unopened messages from my new friend. And they were all gold. Pieces of artwork that I will present to you–and unveil for the first time in all of their glory. Enjoy.

 

This piece is called “Puppies, They are Everywhere!.” It is an interesting combination of assorted breeds and ages of dogs. I believe the artist intended the variation in order to represent the beauty of difference among all living things of our natural world.

 

This specific piece is entitled “I Wish Your Hair Was Longer, but You Have a Nice Face.” It carries an influence of the Neoclassicism period which endured from roughly 1750-1830. It fuses classical art with fashion, and as you might note, this particular piece showcases a very stylish hat and mauve jacket.

 

Awwwe! This piece is a bit more eccentric than the previous two works. Christened “Giant Floating Face in a Garden of Sea Roses”, this work of art is currently on tour with various museums around Europe. It is praised for its spectacular attention to the lighting detail and exquisite ability to capture an unidentifiable mood.

 

These are just a few of the masterpieces that have graced my inbox. I’m taking a book from the page of diamond-people and only releasing a few in order to create a motif of rarity among these unarguably breathtaking gems. Maybe I’ll release another if you follow my blog or mail me a check for 20 bucks/100 Kč.

 

 

(arguably) Most Recongnizable Words in Czech

I explored the center of town a bit yesterday. With nearly all names and titles of shops in another language, I was surprised to find myself actually acquainted with certain words. So, next time you are in Czech Republic, don’t panic–at least there are five words you will surely find familiar.

 

1. Pilsner

Nothing is quite as American as PBR. A nice bohemian style lager that is crisp, cheap, and doesn’t bash you over the head with advertising. It is a simple American Dream that feeds your nostalgia. This is also one of the original pilsner beers of our young baby country. What exactly is pilsner? Well, duh–it’s beer– just a nice ole breed of beer. So, when I saw a sign that contained the word “pilsner”…I knew. This was my language, my creed, my calling, my beer.

2. Pizza

The history of pizza is actually pretty enthralling. It was originally a food for peasants. A delicious, beautiful, and glorious dish that those of low social status put together when the checkbook was null and void. And I bet they enjoyed the heck out of it…who doesn’t love pizza? That is exactly why I was so thrilled that “pizza”–the holy compilation of mouth-watering ingredients–was one of the words I recognized right away. Through no extraordinary genius (because it is just…the word pizza) I recognized many “pizzas” plastering shops, stands, and cafes all over the center of town, and thanks be to God for it.

  3. Čaj: Tea Tee

So, there wasn’t anything that stuck out to me about the word ‘čaj’. If I were to guess, I would say it was some sort of some cartoon boy plagued by premature male-pattern baldness. Thankfully, čaj was accompanied by other words: tea and tee. So I had no doubt when I walked into that store that I was about to peruse through various types of herbal treasures.

4. Vinotéka

If there is one thing that has been ingrained in my white-lady DNA, it is the ability to recognize all things ‘wine’. I wasted no time flocking to a couple wine stores around town with my astute capabilities in word recognition. Hurá!

5. Gynekolog

Again, might be the white-lady DNA, maybe it could be my dad’s occupation, or maybe it was the lobster joint next door that triggered it, but no matter–I recognized this word. So never fear, even when abroad, a gyno is near!