Mr. Mortimer

Mr. Mortimer and the ringworm ointment

By: Wayne Smith
July 15th 08

Mother watched my comical antics with a slight growing concern. I had leapt high off the kitchen floor; my fingers clawed the cabinets and walls. I had tried to get away from the terrible, burning, itching pain that spread across my face. For special effect, I screamed, groaned, and wailed, to make sure she got the point, I was now in unbearable pain.

It had been the fourth application of Grandmothers soothing ringworm ointment but the little red circles around my mouth and chin had not abated. My facial condition had in fact changed from a number of little red dime sized circles, to a swollen rusty brown, scabby, dollar bill sized sore. It felt flamingly painful, almost like some one was holding a lighted match under my chin.

I was about 12 years old at the time. There had always been cats and sandboxes around our home. On rare occasions, my two sisters, Tina and Yvonne, or myself would catch ringworm, probably from our cats or their feces, left in the play sand in our sand box. To the best of my knowledge at the time, I thought the condition was caused by microscopic size worms burrowing and laying eggs just under our skin. (Untrue, it is fungal) Left untreated the resulting number of red circles could increase. Before this would happen Mother went to the bathroom medicine cabinet and extracted the special tube of Ring Worm Ointment.

The tube had been with the family for as long as I could remember. Its beige skin colored paint had begun to peal away. Little flacks would scatter whenever the tube was handled. We all had great faith in this medicinal cure, and felt sure with limited use, the tube would surely last a very long time. Perhaps even generations of Smiths could be cured of Ringworm with this very tube of cream.

Having never found the cream to fail before, my mother grew concerned, as she watched my itchy puffy face grow redder with every application of ointment. She began to wonder; perhaps the founding ailment was not Ringworm, perhaps something more sinister,

We were not a rich family in those days; going to a doctor was rare. We did however have Jeff Mortimer. Mr. Mortimer was our local druggist in Deep Cove. Jeff loved to play chess, collect stamps, and of course fill out prescriptions for drugs. Jeff’s sage advice was often sought on simple skin conditions.

For some time there was a rumor that Jeff, our local druggist would buy our warts from us. Yes, strange you say, but if a youngster came to Jeff with a wart, Jeff would kneel down beside his young patient and say,
“I would like to buy that wart from you if you’ll let me.”
Convinced of a deal the child would offer their tiny afflicted hand with the offending wart on it up to Mr. Mortimer. Mr. Mortimer, who knew the wart would disappear on its own in time, would take the small hand of the young faithful in his. He would give the wart a gentle touch with his finger then pretend to put something in his top drawer. True to word Jeff would pay a nickel or two to the youngster for their wart. Before too many weeks had passed the wart would disappear from the child’s hand; mysteriously gone to the druggist’s drawer: or at least that’s what was believed.

Yes, we all believed in Jeff Mortimer, and I hold his wisdom up today in the highest honor, for I believe he stopped my face from being burned right off.
Seeking help, mother had taken me in hand to see Mr. Mortimer at his drug store. To this day I am humbled and grateful for what he did for me. I was presented to the druggist, a very tall man in a trim white coat, with my face all red and scabby. He looked concernedly at me, reaching down to gently turn my chin upwards.

All was clear upon his next words.
“That looks like a chemical burn, what have you been putting on him?”
“Ring worm ointment my mother announced”
“How old is it?” asked Jeff.
“Oh at least ten years.” mother replied
“Well its too old, it changes chemically with time and that’s what’s happened, it’s burned the skin.
Throw it out!”

As we walked home together that day, mother and talked about the incident; I may have felt less than friendly towards her at the time for keeping that old tube of ointment for so many years, but far more than that, I was grateful to Jeff Mortimer. When we got home, the tube of Ringworm ointment went straight into the garbage can, my face cleared up in a week, and I have never had a case of Ringworm