It's called Rescue Remedy. You can buy it at any pharmacy for a reasonable price. It doesn't work miracles, but it's made a real difference for us.
It contains no chemical compounds—only the essence of certain flowers that Dr. Bach studied and classified seventy years ago with a particular vision: to treat the person, not just the disease; to care for the whole human being, their emotional states and reactions, rather than focus solely on the diseased organ, its symptoms, or their causes.
Before we tried it, we asked permission from our pediatrician and child psychiatrist. They had exhausted conventional medicine, lab tests, and hospitalizations without solving some of our children's problems. Their response was: "Try it. It won't hurt." Though their faces said something else: "It won't do anything, either."
Our children are profoundly disabled. They don't speak, don't walk, can't sit up on their own. Living with them day and night, we've learned to understand them, to decode their signals, to recognize when something is wrong and what causes their pain. But the doctors, the tests, the medications, and we ourselves—we couldn't always find the right solution.
Take one example. Our eldest, seven years old, sometimes forgets to urinate. Nothing in the morning, nothing in the afternoon, nothing at night. We know how long she can safely wait and how much pain builds up. Every remedy we tried—cold water, massage, pressure—failed. For years, the only solution was to take her to the hospital for a catheter (she needs a doctor for that), then antibiotics to prevent infection. Then a few months ago, everything changed.
An nurse named Emanuela arrived—someone trained in conventional medicine who had also specialized in Bach Flower therapy. She talked to us about it, but words alone couldn't break through our initial skepticism. She left us a bottle of Rescue Remedy to try. She explained it works as a first aid remedy in urgent situations: physical or psychological shock, emergencies, pain, crisis. Exactly like when our daughter hasn't urinated for over a day.
So half an hour before we were supposed to go to the hospital—and we were certain we'd have to—we started putting four drops of Rescue under her tongue. Four more after five minutes. Four more after another five. And to everyone's amazement, she wet her diaper, her clothes, the stroller, the carpet. It didn't happen just once. We haven't needed to go to the hospital for a catheter in months.
Even our pediatrician and child psychiatrist were stunned. They verify the remedy's effectiveness themselves now.
One of our younger children, at just ten months old, had learned to recognize perfectly the clinic where they drew blood to monitor his severe heart condition. Every visit was a battle to keep him still—dangerous, because he'd scream at the top of his lungs, overstraining his heart until his lips turned blue and he needed oxygen. We gave him a few drops of Rescue before the hospital visit, before entering the clinic, before the needle came. He was a model patient: a few grimaces, no screaming, no oxygen needed.
Some of us have used it before the dentist, trying to overcome that awful sensation of not being able to open your mouth wide or keep it open for long. Now she has all her cavities filled—even the ones that had been waiting years to be treated.
We've also taken the drops ourselves before, during, and after major surgery on one of our children, so we could be at his side calm, confident, and free from overwhelming fear.
We knew nothing about flower essence therapy. We read about it, talked to doctors who prescribe it. We discovered it's widely used in Northern Europe. We've gathered observations and periodically report them to our medical team. It seems serious to us. Though obviously it doesn't replace the therapies our children need. It's strong support. It's what the word itself says: good "first aid."
- Manuela Bartesaghi, 2000
