SOAP DUDS

The piece I wrote about my nighttime leg, thigh, and hand cramps generated more emails than any other piece I’ve written. In the column, I complained about this persistent problem and mentioned that I had received a lot of advice from others who also suffered from it. Suggestions included: zinc, vitamin E, turmeric, potassium, vitamin C, acupuncture, biofeedback, folic acid, calcium, quinine, fiber pills, cauliflower extract, and yoga.

My college friend Marvin emailed me from Washington, DC and recommended magnesium. This is the same guy who, in 1970, advised me to take one more shot of gin while we were sitting on a second-story roof of a house getting drunk watching girls walk by.

My sister told me that her friend said pickle juice would do the trick. But what kind of pickles? I’m a pickle connoisseur. I can’t name all nine Supreme Court justices, but I can rattle off 14 kinds of pickles.

And then the really bizarre emails started coming in:

“Dick, ever think of using soap?”

“Mr. Wolfsie, do you realize the importance of a bar of soap?”

“Hey, DW, a cake of soap can make a big difference.”

At first, I was mortified. I’m not a hygiene fanatic, but I don’t think I missed a shower all last year. Many of the emails contained a similar suggestion: To cure leg cramps, sleep with a cake of soap under your sheets. Maybe this was a grand conspiracy to entice me to do something really bizarre; then these folks could all laugh themselves silly about me.  “Hey, Dick, did you know that despite the old saying, you CAN have your cake and sleep with it, too?”

I showed these emails to my doctor during my annual check-up that week. He said he often recommends pickle juice but hadn’t mentioned it to me because he figured I had tried it on my own. “Everyone knows that,” he said. Now, how would I know to drink pickle juice to cure cramps? Did I go to Harvard medical school like he did?

Anyway, that evening I tried both ideas.  I stuck a bar of ivory soap under the sheets and downed a bottle of the juice from a jar of Claussen garlic pickles. I was hoping Mary Ellen wouldn’t notice, because she’s always accusing me of falling for every wacky idea out there.

That night, as we went to bed, she said, “Dick, what’s that strong soapy odor? And I also smell garlic. I will never fall asleep. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Look, Mary Ellen, I haven’t mentioned recently the discomfort I’ve been feeling. Please don’t think I’ll believe every crazy suggestion people email me. That smell is just a bar of Ivory Soap I put between the sheets of the bed. And I also drank a glass of pickle juice an hour ago.”

“Well, I don’t know why you’d do such incredibly weird things. But at least it might cure those leg cramps.”

That night, my leg, thigh, and hand cramps had virtually disappeared.

 But I did have stomach cramps… from the quart of pickle juice I drank.