6 Real Medical Treatments That Sound Like Quackery

"But why pig-worms, Cracked, that's gotta be a Hippocratic violation, no?" Actually, that's what makes it safe. Pig-infecting worms don't survive long in humans, mitigating the risk of chronic infections or cross-contamination with loved ones or, say, unscrupulous masseuses. 

One theory is that the decline of parasitic infections is linked with inflammatory disorders like multiple sclerosis, asthma, rheumatoid arthritis, and eczema, among others. And the "old friends hypothesis" states that parasites inhabited human bodies for millennia and evolved step-in-step with us, their gracious hosts. In gratitude, they offered immune boosts. Now those are disappearing as we become more hygienic. 

And it's true that populations from developing, parasite-prevalent regions have a less-inflammatory balance of intestinal flora than their fancy shoe-wearing, city-slicking counterparts. It's thought that these parasites out-compete more harmful bugs and stimulate mucus production in the gut, feeding the good bacteria. The future of medicine may depend on replicating these inflammation-squashing effects without having to chug parasitic worms. Unless, of course, you want to. 

Around the turn of the 20th century, bone surgeon Coley noted that sarcoma patients experienced miraculous tumor remission after developing high fevers due to streptococcal skin infections. And though few terms incite as much horror as "20th-century bone surgeon," Coley favored science over sticking leeches into patients' genitals. 

So he derived a cocktail of heat-killed streptococcus and other bacteria, which was just potent enough to cause fever without serious risk. Moreover, the resultant high body temperatures could kill nasty tumors outright. The process also worked by indirectly increasing immune production of tumor-killing chemicals, including the badass-sounding "natural killer cells," an especially assassinous breed of white blood cell. 

Other doctors, possibly to balance Coley's sanity, kicked it up a notch by infecting patients with malaria. Ironically, this became one of (if not the only) effective historical treatments for syphilis. Once the syphilis was treated, doctors eradicated malaria with quinine, presumably dissolved in a solution of gin and served with a lime twist and a Pall Mall, as per the fast-living habits of the day.

In contrast to other old-timey treatments, especially ass-based ones, heat therapy (hyperthermia) is still used and increases the effectiveness of other cancer treatments. With modern technology, including microwave probes, ultrasound, and lasers, doctors can heat body parts up to 113 °F to attack cancers while sparing healthy cells. But a microwave that evenly warms your chimichanga? Perennially five-to-10-years away. 

A team of doctors from Stanford and Michigan State treated her with a clotting protein and stopped the bleeding. But it resumed the next day, and they surgically applied a dressing. Two days later, her nose bled anew, and doctors administered a transfusion. The following day required another surgery, a new type of dressing, and more transfusion. And so on, for another week of similar, failed interventions. 

That's when the exasperated doctors, possibly musing treatment options over their half-finished bacon club chalupas, went old-school. The bleeding finally stopped when "strips of cured salt pork were placed in both nasal vaults." Bacon treatment, a 200-year-old folk cure, was used up until the 1950s, when it was deemed unsanitary. It works because the pork's cold, salty goodness constricts blood vessels, and its palate-pleasing fattiness may promote clotting. 

The unconventional solution earned Stanford's Ian Humphreys the 2014 Ig Nobel Prize in medicine. Awarded for wacky science, think of it as the Nobel Prize's patchouli-burning, free-loving cousin. When's the last time broccoli, or anything else from the precious little food pyramid, stopped a life-threatening bleed? Yea, we thought so. Checkmate, Mayo Clinic. Although, if the Mayo Clinic could come together with the Lettuce and Tomato Clinics, bacon treatments might have an even bigger breakthrough.

Exposed rubber workers complained of adverse reactions to alcohol, but the drug was used to treat the lesser-known scourge of WWII: scabies. Then, in 1951, as the roaring public love affair with liquor waned, disulfiram became the first FDA-approved drug to treat alcohol dependence. And it's now used by more than 200,000 Americans. 

And God bless all of them because disulfiram is evil. It produces most of the same effects as imbibing one-too-many happy hour margaritas: headache, nausea, confusion, dizziness, blurred vision, and general malaise. On the bright side, it makes regretful, drunken hook-ups almost impossible. 

Disulfiram works by inhibiting aldehyde dehydrogenase, the sobering enzyme that "detoxifies" alcohol. With alcohol metabolism shut down, the hang-over-causing chemical acetaldehyde accumulates in the blood, causing sensations of remorse. And even though modern formulations have made the drug much safer, irresponsible use can cause death. Which, to be fair to disulfiram, is an effective cure for alcoholism. 

Actually, sugar is great at healing all sorts of wounds. Just ask Alan Bayliss, who had his right leg amputated below the knee. The surgeons also removed a vein from his left leg, leaving a deep, unhealing, finger-sized wound. Until Moses Murandu, a senior nursing lecturer at Wolverhampton University, poured a pot of sugar into Bayliss's gruesome injury. The sugar apparently drew water from the wound, removing moisture and killing the bacteria, leaving Bayliss positively chuffed to bits with the result.

Murandu learned this age-old folk cure as a child in his native Zimbabwe, where his dad healed his scrapes and cuts with sugar. And it's still a common treatment in some parts of the world due to its utility: It's the cheapest medical treatment other than "walking it off." It also succeeds when antibiotics fail because it doesn't rely on chemical warfare and doesn't boost antibiotic resistance. 

And it's super-simple, requiring only two steps, thusly:

Step 1) Pour sugar onto and cover the wound. 

Step 2) Done. 

Congratulations, you just dressed a wound. Kick back and relax with your favorite beer or a chewy blunt. 

Murandu has taken to promoting therapeutic sugar use in the U.K. and around the world, as he believes that the sweet stuff can potentially save many lives in places where antibiotics may be too expensive or hard to come by. Murandu also remotely advises people living abroad, allegedly saving limbs from amputation all before the clock tolls for tea-time. (No info on how many spoons he takes with his.)

Top Image: Wright Brand Bacon