I’ve never bought pickle juice for it specially, but have had a swig of any I happen to have occasionally, when I’m desperate.
When the pain is bad enough, pickle juice does not actually seem that nasty by comparison - although of course, it does help if you naturally like pickles.
I don’t honestly know if it works, because I’ve never tried it as a treatment in isolation. If I am that desperate, I usually grab anything to hand that might possibly help - baclofen, diazepam, magnesium, quinine - the lot!
The quinine is highly dose sensitive, so if I’ve already taken it, due to a severe bout of cramp earlier in the day, I have to remember to skip the usual bedtime dose. Luckily, they usually come with days of the week marked on the card, so I can easily see if one’s already been taken, and know not to take another.
I honestly don’t know. I’ve even wondered if pickle/vinegar is the culprit, not the solution, as that is something I have typically had all over my chips when trouble strikes. I know chip-shop vinegar is not real vinegar, but a cheap substitute (“non-fermented dressing”, I think is the proper term). So I wondered if it was that, and the last couple of times, skipped the chip-shop vinegar, and used my own Sarson’s, at home. Judging by yesterday’s episode, it doesn’t make any difference, so either vinegar is not the trigger, or at least it’s not brand-sensitive, and the genuine stuff is no less of a problem than the cheapo substitute.
I think the only way to find out is to try. It’s not suggested you try to drink a whole glassful - just a gulp or two. It’s really not that objectionable compared to the pain. There’s plenty of research online about it, although nothing to prove how it actually works. Vinegar apparently can be metabolised into certain neurotransmitters, but the benefit - when there is one - is apparently too quick for the vinegar even to have entered the bloodstream, so it can’t be any complex brain chemistry - there isn’t time. The best explanation I’ve seen is it’s some kind of reflex - the sharp taste hitting the back of the throat somehow resets something, but they don’t know how.
It was a damn thigh cramp last night, and yes, I was shouting. Don’t think the neighbour is working, as she seems to have been home a lot more lately, so God knows what she thought - although obviously not concerned enough to pop round to check I wasn’t being murdered. Not sure I could have made it to the door to explain the problem anyway.