A ring made from communion silver cures convulsions and fits

Scene: A quiet afternoon in a café in Manchester. Two friends, Emily and James, are catching up over tea.

Emily: (holding up her hand) Look at this, James. My aunt gave me this ring. It’s made from communion silver. Supposed to cure convulsions and fits.

James: (choking slightly on his tea) Sorry—cure what now? Convulsions? Fits? You mean like epilepsy?

Emily: Exactly! She swears by it. Says people used to believe wearing one would stop seizures altogether. You can’t argue with hundreds of years of tradition, can you?

James: (grinning) Oh, I can argue with it, Emily. In fact, I’d quite like to. If communion silver really cured seizures, neurologists would be out of a job, and Boots would be selling rings instead of medication.

Emily: Don’t laugh! My great-granddad apparently wore one. He never had a single fit in his life.

James: Right… but did he ever have epilepsy to begin with? That’s like me saying I’ve never been eaten by a shark because I wear lucky socks. It’s not evidence, Em. It’s coincidence.

Emily: But silver does have medicinal properties. I read somewhere it kills bacteria. Maybe there’s something special about communion silver—holy energy, you know?

James: True, silver does have antibacterial qualities. But epilepsy isn’t caused by bacteria; it’s caused by abnormal electrical activity in the brain. Unless your ring doubles as a tiny defibrillator, I don’t think it’s doing much for seizures.

Emily: (laughing) Imagine that—zap! A holy taser on your finger.

James: (chuckling) Exactly. Look, I get why people believed it in the past. They didn’t have the science we’ve got now. If someone wore the ring and didn’t have a seizure for a while, people thought, “Ah, miracle!” But today we know medication like sodium valproate or carbamazepine is what actually helps.

Emily: But isn’t it comforting, though? Having something symbolic, even if it doesn’t technically work? Like a good luck charm.

James: Oh, I’m not against the comfort bit. If it makes you feel protected, fine. Just don’t ditch proper medical treatment for it. Faith and science don’t have to be enemies—you can wear the ring and take the meds.

Emily: (smiling) So you’re saying I can be half medieval peasant, half modern woman?

James: Spot on. A fashionable mix. Just don’t start prescribing communion silver rings on the NHS.

Emily: (teasing) Oh, imagine the waiting list! “Sorry, Mrs. Smith, we’re fresh out of holy jewellery, but we’ve got a backorder coming from Bethlehem.”

James: (laughs) Perfect. And you’d have vicars doing side hustles as silversmiths.

Emily: You know what, James, you’ve convinced me. I’ll keep the ring for sentimental value, not medical.

James: Good. Besides, it looks lovely. Better as jewellery than as questionable medicine.

Emily: (grinning) Fine, but if I live to ninety without a single convulsion, I’m crediting the ring.

James: And I’ll credit your healthy lifestyle and the NHS. Deal?

Emily: Deal.