The world’s most famous blue man, Paul Karason, also dubbed Papa Smurf, was born as a fair-skinned, freckled boy with ginger hair. In the 2000s, he became an internet sensation and made many TV appearances, openly talking about his condition. Let’s find out together why Karason turned blue and how he became a cautionary tale.
Paul Karason had a skin condition that made his skin flake, as well as acid reflux and arthritis. Doing his own research in order to improve these ailments, he found out about a solution of silver in water, also known as colloidal silver.
Colloidal silver was widely used as an antibiotic back before penicillin was invented in the 1930s. It was banned in 1999 in over-the-counter medications after scientists found that it can severely damage internal organs.
The late Paul Karason and his wife, Joanne
Karason drank what he believed was a miracle cure for over 10 years. Moreover, he even began to apply a silver preparation directly to his skin; he claimed his acid reflux and arthritis just went away. “I had arthritis in my shoulders so bad I couldn’t pull a T-shirt off. And the next thing I knew, it was just gone,” he shared.
Due to the silver accumulation in his skin, he started to turn blue and suffered from a permanent and rare condition called argyria. Only when Karason met an old friend who asked him, “What have you done to yourself?” did he begin to realize he’d become blue.
Karason claimed his blue skin had many advantages — he never got sunburns or had to wear sunglasses. There were some side effects he did not appreciate, however, such as folks “being less than polite” to him. Moreover, Karason confessed he couldn’t get a job because of employers’ resistance to hiring “people that are blue or that are noticeably different.”
Sadly, Paul Karason passed away in 2013 when he was 62 years old due to heart complications.
Papa Smurf’s story serves as a valuable lesson about the importance of being careful when it comes to at-home remedies. While it’s natural to want to find easy solutions to health problems, it’s important to be aware that such remedies can sometimes pose serious risks. It’s always better to consult a doctor and follow their advice for a safe and effective treatment.
THE DAY I LEARNED WHAT TRUE STRENGTH LOOKS LIKE
The sun beat down mercilessly, reflecting off the asphalt in shimmering waves. Sweat stung my eyes as I wrestled with the last stubborn lug nut. Another long day on the construction site, another day spent pushing my body to its limits. I was used to it. I was a construction worker, built like a bull, and pride myself on my strength. I could lift steel beams that would make most men wince, and I never backed down from a challenge.
Thirst gnawing at my throat, I stopped at the gas station, the promise of an icy soda beckoning. As I stepped out of my truck, I noticed an elderly man struggling with his car. His back was to me, but I could see his shoulders hunched, his hands trembling as he wrestled with a tire iron. Sweat stained his shirt, and he looked utterly defeated.
Something in his posture, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he seemed to shrink under the weight of the situation, tugged at my heartstrings. I walked over, a question forming on my lips. “Need a hand?”
He startled, turning to face me. His eyes, the color of faded denim, were filled with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. For a moment, he just stared, as if deciding whether to trust this hulking stranger. Then, a flicker of something akin to surrender crossed his face. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice rough with exertion, “I think I do.”
As I knelt down, loosening the stubborn lug nut, he began to speak. His voice was weathered, like an old leather boot, but surprisingly steady. “Name’s Arthur,” he introduced himself. “Never been one to ask for help,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Always been the one doing the fixing, the helping.”
He went on to tell me about his life – a life of hard work, of providing for his family, of always being the strong one. His wife, bless her soul, had passed away last year, leaving a gaping hole in his life. “She always told me,” he sighed, “not to be so stubborn. To ask for help when I needed it. But I… I never could. Pride, I guess.”
As I tightened the last lug nut, I looked at him. Arthur was watching me, a flicker of something akin to awe in his eyes. “You don’t know what this means to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
And in that moment, I realized something profound. True strength wasn’t just about brute force, about lifting heavy things and overcoming physical obstacles. True strength lay in acknowledging your limitations, in recognizing when you needed a helping hand, and in having the humility to accept it. It was about recognizing that asking for help wasn’t a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength.
Arthur, in his vulnerability, had taught me a valuable lesson. That day, I not only helped an elderly man change a tire; I learned a valuable lesson about true strength, a lesson that would stay with me long after the memory of the hot summer day and the rusty tire iron faded.
From that day forward, I approached my work with a newfound perspective. I learned to appreciate the value of teamwork, to recognize the strengths of my colleagues, and to ask for help when I needed it. I learned that true strength wasn’t about being invincible, but about knowing when to lean on others and allowing yourself to be vulnerable. And every time I faced a challenge, I would remember Arthur, and the valuable lesson he taught me about the true meaning of strength.
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