Doctor Haversham's Miracle Cures

Polk: Alternatives to Western medicine are being introduced all the time: whether it be acupuncture, holistic healing, chiropractic or even more exotic methods, such as aromatherapy, in which healing is induced through the inhalation of certain incenses. Yet a new medical treatment has surfaced in Polk County, in the small town of Nanson.

     On the corner of High Street and Owl Lane stood an abandoned 19th Century general store, or at least it did until some three months ago. That's when a certain Doctor Danforth Haversham bought the building and gave it an immense restoration, enhancing the appeal of the east end of downtown considerably. On June 15 the final touch was added; lettering painted on the front window (still curtained) read Dr. D. Haversham- Cures for All Ailments. Haversham was open for business on June 20.

     Doctor Haversham ran no advertisements in the Nanson Courier, yet he has attracted several satisfied customers. By visiting with the local townsfolk in parks, bars and other public places, I was able to get a feel for the man's work even before I went to visit him myself.

     Quentin Falstaff, proprietor of Falstaff's Tavern on Owl Lane says that he visited Dr. Haversham for what he thought was probably a lung infection. The very earnest and direct forty-something reports:

     "Miss, I gotta tell you that I was afraid I'd have to pay a bundle if I went to one of the big hospitals in Cedar Rapids or somewhere else. The way they tack on expenses, and especially how much doctors earn these days---makes me sick. So I figured I'd at least go talk to that Haversham fellow and see what he could do for me.

     "Well, I was happy on a couple of counts. First of all, he diagnosed me without any sorts of probes or anything, just lays his ear against my chest to listen to my breathing. Then instead of some weird medicine with some goddam Latin mumbo-jumbo name, he goes into another room and brings back this salve for me to rub on my chest nightly for the next week. When I asked him what it was, he said that it was a combination of shitake mushrooms, olive oil, powdered pine needles and royal jelly. I told him that he had to be kidding and that this sounded like some sort of tree-hugger's recipe, but he said that if I wasn't completely satisfied I could have my money back. And he only charged me a hundred bucks for the session and salve anyway! So I used the stuff, and I've got to tell you that my lungs have never felt better. The Doc knows what he's doing."

     Later that week I was able to strike up another conversation with a client of the mysterious doctor, a certain Elise Crosby. Crosby, director of Nanson's small community theatre, says that she had broken a couple of toes while moving flats on stage. Again, she seems quite satisfied with her service:

     "The doctor is good. He's kind of odd looking and he has a strange accent, maybe Middle-Eastern, I don't know. But I tell you, it doesn't matter where he's from, because he took care of those toes like it was nobody's business. He just wrapped them up with gauze and gave me this liquid to drink. He told me to stay off my foot for twenty-four hours, and that my toes would be healed. I thought, come on! But sure enough, in two days' time, my toes were as good as new again. If I'da gone to the hospital, I imagine I'd still be wearing a splint or even a cast."

     I asked Crosby what was in her medicine. She said, "I asked the doctor that myself. And you'll never believe it! Linseed oil, sugar, basil, and a drop of brandy. Sounds like a marinade, doesn't it? You know, maybe Dr. Haversham is just selling placebos, but if it works, heck, I'll take it. He did a fine job."

     After speaking with several other Nanson residents who have all had positive experiences with the doctor, I decided to go see him for myself. I didn't just want an interview, however. I am also a sufferer of a mild arthritis in my fingers. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

     Dr. Haversham's office and examining room are both very bare, with the latter missing all the mirrors and lights and probing utensils so common in hospitals. The man himself had a bit of a strange appearance, and his unplaceable accent must be what let Crosby to think he was from the Middle East. He is a short man, not any taller than five-three and rather pudgy with very pink skin. He sports a thick crop of curly dark hair and has watery eyes buried behind his formidable spectacles. He moves slowly, but with efficiency, a combination that could almost be taken for grace. When I asked the doctor from where he came, he said only "the East," and would not elaborate further.

     He took me into the examining room to have a look at my hands. He held my fingers in his pudgy hands for a minute, then said that he had a cure. Retreating to a side room, he returned with an ointment that he said I should rub into my hands upon waking for the next five days. The ingredients were simple, not unlike the other medicines I had heard about. I thanked him for his time and paid my seventy-five dollar fee.

     The cure worked. Since then, I have had not even a single ache or pain in my hands. Though the residents of Nanson are very fortunate to have such a powerful healer in their midst, certain questions still linger, like where does Haversham come from? What is this form of medicine which he is practicing? And are we, his patients, all just falling for placebos?