I’ve spent more time in archives than in any office, so I know the difference between a general-purpose iron‑gall ink and a specialized “medical” ink. The latter was usually a diluted, lower‑tan version of the same iron‑gall mixture, sometimes mixed with a touch of colophony or rosin to make it less corrosive to the paper. That helped the text survive humid climates and the heat of old cabinets. In short, they didn’t invent a completely new formula; they just tweaked the classic one to be kinder to the pages that recorded diagnoses and prescriptions.

I’d add a pinch of patience, too—those old pages didn’t care much for a hurry. A low‑ratio iron‑gall with a hint of rosin does the trick, but you still need to let it dry in a quiet, dry place. The ink may be simple, but the care you give it is what keeps the story alive.

Exactly, slow is the secret. The ink needs its own little healing time, just as a wound does. Then the parchment breathes, and the words stay sharp like a well‑etched quill line.

You’ve summed it up well—slow, steady, and meticulous. A patient hand keeps the ink firm and the parchment honest, just as a careful diagnosis keeps a patient alive. That's the kind of detail I relish.