Air
Sources:
Papers On Health
The Black Hole of Calcutta is an object lesson of how necessary
to life is the renewal of the air supply. Few people, however, reflect
that a deficient supply of fresh air may affect the health, though far
short of what will cause death. Many hospitable people will invite so
many friends to their houses that the amount of air each can get is
less than 1-20th of what the law insists shall be provided for the
prisoners i
our gaols. Superabundant provision is made for the wants
of the stomachs of these guests, but none at all for the more important
organ--the lungs. The headaches and lack of appetite next morning are
attributed to the supper instead of the repeatedly breathed air, for
each guest gives off almost 20 cubic feet of used-up air per hour. No
one would ask their guests to wash with water others had used; how many
offer them air which has been made foul by previous use? Everyone knows
that in our lungs oxygen is removed from the air inhaled, and its place
taken by carbonic acid gas. Besides this deoxydizing, the air becomes
loaded with organic matter which is easily detected by the olfactory
organs of those who have just come in, and so are in a position to
promptly compare the air inside with what they have been breathing. The
exhilaration produced by deep breathing of pure air is well known.
What, therefore, prevents everyone enjoying it at all times? Simply the
fear of "cold"--an unfortunate name for that low form of fever properly
called catarrh, and a name which is largely responsible for this
mistaken idea. "Colds" are now known to be infectious, being often
caught in close ill-ventilated places of public assembly. Most people
suppose that it is the change from the heat to the cold outside that
gives them "cold," whereas the "cold" has been contracted inside. There
is no lack of evidence that wide open windows day and night, summer and
winter, so strengthen and invigorate that colds are rarely taken, and
when taken, generally in a mild form. This also applies to influenza.
If delicate consumptives can stand, without any gradual breaking-in to
it, unlimited fresh air, and can lie by day and night in open sheds, no
one need dread at once to adopt the open-window system. Although few
will believe it, until they try it, a wide open window does not produce
a draught as does one slightly opened, and it is safer and pleasanter
to go in for abundant fresh air than to try what might be called a
moderate course. Many think that with an open window the heat of the
fire is practically wasted. They do not know that the radiant heat of
the fire will warm the person it falls on even though the temperature
of the room is very low. The Canadian hunter before his fire is
comfortably warm, though the air around him may be a long way below
zero. Extra clothing may be worn if any chilliness is felt. While the
body is warm cold air has an invigorating effect on the lungs. Indeed,
the body soon gets accustomed to the colder air, and those who practise
keeping open windows winter and summer find that they do not require
heavier clothing than those who sit with windows shut. A slight or even
considerable feeling of coldness, when due to cold air and not to
ill-health, will not harm.
This is no new idea. Dr. Henry McCormac, of Belfast, father of the
eminent surgeon, Sir William McCormac, wrote forty years ago:--"The
mainly unreasoning dread of night air, so termed, is a great impediment
to free ventilation by night. And yet day and night air is the same
virtually, does not differ appreciably. The air by night, whether damp
or dry, is equally pure, equally salubrious with the air by day, and
calls not less solicitously for ceaseless admission into our dwellings.
Air, ere it reaches the lungs, is always damp. Quite dry air is
irrespirable. It needs no peculiar or unusual habitude in order to
respire what is termed night air. Exposure to contact with the day air
equally prepares us for exposure to the contact with the night air. We
can multiply our coverings by night with even greater ease than we can
by day, and with the most perfect certainty of producing and obtaining
warmth. Good heavens! How is it that people are so wildly mistaken as
if the great wise Deity, as he does by every exquisite and perfect
adaption, did not intend that we should make use of the purest,
sweetest air day and night always? The prospective results of breathing
purest air by night are so infinitely desirable, the immediate
enjoyment is so great that it only needs a trial to be approved of and
adopted for ever.... Reasonable precautions--that is to say, adequate
night coverings--being resorted to, no colour of risk to the lungs,
even of the most delicate, can possibly ensue. For, it is stagnant air,
air pre-breathed only, and not pure unprerespired air that makes lungs
delicate. Although air, warmth, food, and cleanliness be cardinal
conditions and essential to life, still the most important of all
health factors is air--air pure and undefiled alike by day and by
night.... The constant uneasy dread of taking cold, which haunts the
minds of patients and their friends, is doubtless the one great reason
why fresh air is thrust aside. And yet cold will not be caught, were it
in Nova Zembla itself, by night, if only the sleeper's body be
adequately covered.... The pulses or puffs of air that comes in
ceaselessly, winter and summer, through open windows by night inspire
just as if one slept in the open air, a sort of ecstasy. Gush follows
gush, full of delightfulness, replacing the used-up air and purifying
the blood. It has oftimes been said to me, 'I open the windows the
moment I get out of bed;' to this I have uniformly replied, 'the moment
to open the window is before you get into bed, not when you get out of
it.' You cannot otherwise with entire certainty secure the benefit of
an ever ceaselessly renewed night air so all essential to the blood's
renewal and the maintenance of health.... With abundant night coverings
there is no shadow of risk. There is none of rheumatism, none of
bronchitis, in short no risk whatever. The only, the real risk, which
we incur, is that of closing our sleeping chamber windows, of debarring
ourselves of pure air during our repose."