A community experiences an outbreak of a respiratory disease, of unknown kind. The condition seems similar to ones that the community’s faced before, year after year.
The town fathers meet, to decide what to do. Some suggest over-the-counter medicines, others encourage the ill to drink lots of fluids, and still others suggest doctor’s visits. Only a few people in the town have ever been to a doctor, and those who have seen one have never bothered with a routine of checkups and preventive care.
“Doctors,” the majority cries, “they can’t do anything. We need results!”
From the back of the room, a middle-aged man offers a solution.
“Leeches,’ he says.
There’s silence in the room.
The man goes on: “That’s right, leeches. They suck the illness right out. Better still, after a treatment with leeches, the patient is so queasy and weak, that’s he’s too sick to catch another respiratory infection. Many people are too scared to get sick again. The fear, uncertainty, and doubt that leeches inspire encourages people to stay healthy. That’s our solution. It’s the latest, greatest cure.”
A few people pose objections, among them that doctors haven’t been consulted regularly and diligently, that using leeches risks infection, and that — in fact — leeches were once tried clinically and rejected as a solution.
The man smiles. He looks around, and says, “We should ignore this criticism. Don’t consider a word of it. These leeches will be applied with my expert care and caution. I’m known as a professional and prudent man. I would tell readily you as much.”
The critics repeat their concerns.
And yet, people are still sick, and someone needs to do something. Doctors, pharmaceuticals, fluids — they seem too tame. It’s time for a bold, dare one say wild, solution. Something that will get people’s attention, and make the papers.
The town fathers vote, considering from among the options.
Leeches.
