I don’t have a strong pain threshold. I’m not saying I’m soft, but I’m convinced a paper cut is one of the most painful things God created.

Sure, women tell me that giving birth is no picnic, but this paper cut was severe, from one of those manila envelope flaps. I didn’t want to be a wuss and use a letter opener. I wanted to be a real man and do it with my bare hands.

And yes, I’ve played baseball and have endured a foul ball bouncing directly into a delicate part of the male anatomy. You see it happen in big league games. A catcher yelps in pain, and the umpire gives him a minute to pull himself together. The poor guy grimaces for a while, because there’s no cure except time. Eventually the team doctor strolls up and asks the catcher, “How many fingers am I holding up?” The dazed athlete pauses and says, “Friday?” and the game resumes.

But this paper cut was serious stuff. I know, some of you “real men” are asking me, “Sue, how’s that casserole coming along?” Ha ha. This paper cut sent me rushing to the medicine cabinet. It took me back to my childhood. I was in desperate need of merthiolate, the devil’s antiseptic. Sure, it was loaded with mercury, toxic as all get-out, and it stung like a yellow jacket, but my parents believed in it.

In my post-paper cut stupor, I had forgotten that merthiolate was long ago banned in the US, so I figured I would grab some turpentine. When it wasn’t being used for thinning paint, waterproofing wooden ships and removing stains, it was applied to the human body for cuts, bee stings, and poison ivy. A lot of old folks did that, and somehow they lived long enough to be old folks, so there.

With the paper cut making me throb in pain, I remembered another popular remedy from days gone by. Bruton snuff, a smokeless tobacco which bore a striking resemblance to dirt. The old-timers used it for scrapes, and then re-used the glass container. There was nothing like an iced tea in an old snuff glass. Sometimes to get the most bang for their buck, country folks would use a mix of snuff, dirt, and spit to heal your wounds. Even RFK Jr. would likely frown on that.

Still scanning the medicine cabinet for paper cut relief, I see all the fancy label, well-advertised ointments and creams. But I find myself itching for mercurochrome. As the name suggests, it included a pinch of mercury, so now it’s impossible to find. But for generations, it was the fix-all. If you took a tumble from the splintery see-saw on to the gravelly playground, the school secretary would dip the little stick into the tiny bottle of magic liquid and apply it to the wound. When Mom greeted us at the door that afternoon, she saw that red stain of courage and knew you had received excellent medical care.

When sharing my ancient medication stories, some friends told me about Paregoric, also off the market due to opium and morphine content. It was often a parent’s last resort for colic and diarrhea. My friend Ed in Lenoir City, TN said, “Yes, my sweet mother would give me a spoonful of that. Suddenly it was nap time. You wouldn’t hear from me for a few hours.”

Steve in Pennville, GA reminded me about Aspergum for sore throat pain. He said, “My mom had to hide it, because I loved the flavor.” True confession: I liked Aspergum a little too much. Maybe that’s why I was such a mellow kid. I also loved Luden’s Wild Cherry Cough Drops. They tasted like candy, and from the way I binged on those, it’s a wonder I ever coughed.

Both those medications were far tastier than Creomulsion cough syrup. Sarah in Lafayette, GA said, “It tasted like what I thought black tar must taste like. But I never coughed again!”

Thankfully, I eventually recovered from the paper cut, and resumed a normal lifestyle. And I’m happy to share your memories of our reckless youth. Drop me a line.

David Carroll is a Chattanooga news anchor, and his latest book is “I Won’t Be Your Escape Goat,” available from his website, ChattanoogaRadioTV.com. You may contact him at 900 Whitehall Rd, Chattanooga, TN 37405, or at RadioTV2020@yahoo.com.