Thread by @chadhayesmd

The story of teething begins, as all good medical stories begin, with Hippocrates, who wrote in the 4th Century BCE that “teething children suffer from itching of the gums, fever, convulsions, diarrhoea, especially when they cut their eye teeth.”

(a thread)

It wasn’t until the late-19th century that a precise mechanism was elucidated. J. W. White explained, “The nervous perturbation occasioned by the eruption of teeth increases the susceptibility and lessens the resistive power of the child.” (There, that sounds science-y enough.)

Just a few hundred years after Hippocrates wrote of the perils of teething, Soranus of Ephesus developed one of the earliest recorded treatments for teething:

1) Kill a bunny (or don’t, but it seems the humane thing to do)
2) Cut out its brain
3) Rub it on your kid’s gums

This practice remained the standard of care for several hundred years, as documented by the medical literature of the time: “If they are in pain, smear the gums with dog’s milk or hare’s brain; this works also if eaten.” You do you, but I’d take the dog’s milk, given the option.

Aetios of Amida, a physician that practiced in the 6th century CE, suggested that if hares weren’t readily available (or if, perchance, one finds them difficult to catch), a lamb’s brain would work equally well, “for by its nature it assists.”

He also invented teething necklaces, but, like, way more badass than the amber ones: “root of colocynth hung on the child in a gold or silver case, or bramble root, or the tooth of a viper, especially a male viper, set in gold or green jasper, suspended on the neck.”

In 1668, François Mauriceau, a French midwife, clarified that “one must not however believe that these things have any peculiar property, as many Women imagine; but if they are helpful in this case it is because of their solidity, evenness and smoothness.” Don’t be ridiculous.

The British philosopher and physician John Locke wrote in 1682 of “convulsion fits” (seizures) that were attributed to teething. His recommended remedy: diacodium (a syrup made from poppies), sweet oil of almonds, and, “if the child be vigorous and a year old,” bloodletting. Obvs

In the “What to Expect” of the mid-19th century, Dr. J. W. Holman warns, “Beside the general febrile symptoms attendant upon the teething of children, many other troublesome and sometimes fatal complaints follow.” Yes, fatal.

Dr. John Arbuthnot (1667-1735) was a British physician that served as the personal physician for Queen Anne, so you have to assume he knew his stuff. According to his records, “above a tenth part of Infants die in Teething.”

10% seems high? In 1894, a dentist whose last name was Thrasher (but who was not, to my knowledge, in a metal band) reported even higher numbers: “So deadly has teething become, that one third of the Human family die before the twenty deciduous teeth have fully appeared.”

With teething decimating the future generation, it was fortunate that treatments had progressed. In 1575, Ambriose Pare, a French barber surgeon that dabbled in pediatric autopsies, had serendipitously discovered one of the mainstays of teething treatment.

“We diligently sought for the cause of his death, we could impute it to nothing else than the contumacious hardness of the gums…when we cut the gums with a knife we found all the teeth appearing…if it had been done when he lived, doubtless he would have been preserved.”

There were some safety concerns about this revolutionary therapy, but Dr. John Darwall laid them to rest in 1830: “With respect to the gums, the moment they become red and inflamed they should be lanced, nor can any harm result from this practice, if the lancet be clean.”

And, according to him, there was really no other option. “It will be in vain to administer medicines until the gums have been lanced.” (insert joke about requiring a prior auth)

If you’re worried about pain, don’t be. That’s old-school. François Mauriceau advised the following: “Let the Gums be cut with a Lancet where the teeth are ready; Nurses use to do it with their nails but ’tis better to be done with a Lancet because ’tis not painful.”

Some rejected Mauriceau’s claim that “’tis not painful." In 1862, Dr. Harrison explained, “I think all well-educated medical men, in this country, are advocates for lancing the gums…Mothers, however, not unfrequently object; they think it a pity to hurt the little darling.”

A contemporary medical journal article discussed this issue as well: “The terrors of the mother and the restlessness of the infant, frequently render it by no means an easy operation.” Damn mothers and their attempts to prevent doctors from doing their jobs.

Dr. Marshall Hall emphasized the importance of gum lancing: “I would rather lance a child’s gums 199 times unnecessarily than omit it once if necessary.” You don’t want to miss something. Also, it’s 100% safe and nothing bad can happen ever at all.

In 1908, Dr. John Lovett Morse documented the effect of gum-lancing in one of his patients.
"A boy, 17 months old, began to be fussy and a little feverish the night of April 14…The next evening the temperature was 103°F.”

“the next day 100°F. in the evening," bitches.

But wait, there’s more. In his 1850 book, A Practical Treatise on the Diseases of Children, David Francis Condie shocked the medical community with what, to my knowledge, was the first (and possibly, the only) recorded dental miracle.

In 1857, the Southern Journal of Medicine and Physical Science published: “The principal thing in the treatment of these cases, is to lance the gums freely. A superficial incision will be of no avail; the gums must be cut down until the lancet impinges on the approaching tooth.”

But, despite the mountains of scientific evidence supporting it, there were still those pesky Mothers “protecting” their little darlings. Fortunately, there was another effective (if slightly less invasive) option, promoted by Dr. Valentine Mott in 1844.

But sometimes even the best treatments fail. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s wife Sophia was totally incapacitated by teething—for 31 years. “Sophia had been a very sick child on account of teething, and was made a life-long invalid by the heroic system of medicine which was then in vogue"

She suffered from “among other things…an acute nervous headache which lasted uninterruptedly from her twelfth to her thirty-first year, and of course, shortened her life by an unknown quantity.” Hell of a headache.

Her doctors were stumped: “The Boston physicians…tried their hands at curing her, and she went through courses of their poisons, each one bringing her to death’s door, and leaving her less able to cope with the pain they did not reach.”

They tried everything: “mercury, arsenic, opium, hyoscyamus, and all.” They were bringing out the big guns. (This was before ketamine.) Teething was really kicking this lady’s butt.

And then she escaped her abusive parent(s). Or discovered sex. End this how you like. “When Sophia Peabody became Sophia Hawthorne in 1842, she was, for the first time since infancy, in perfect health; nor did she ever afterwards relapse into her previous condition of invalidism"