Tuesday 20 September 2011

Ouch

OK, I dare you to guess what this is. And if you're a woman, once you know, to imagine its use.


This, oh brace yourselves, is a 19th century cervical dilator. I saw it today, and it's about a foot long. I kid you not. It's in the Old Operating Theatre Museum (http://www.thegarret.org.uk/index.htm)  and this picture is from the museum's website - the caption says 'the instrument shows wear from use but may be a prototype as even when closed it has a very wide gauge tip for actual use'. I just checked and modern ones are really rather friendlier in design. Why did the guy who designed this think he needed the barbed, pointed ends? All the medical instruments in the museum were designed by men as far as I could see.

I was in London today for lunch with a favourite client, and as she works round the corner from London Bridge, I thought I'd finally get round to visiting the museum. It's tiny - and don't go if you can't cope with incredibly narrow windy stairs - but brilliant, especially if you're lucky enough to be able to join a talk about the operating theatre itself.

We were treated to a blow by blow description of an operation for stones - which took 40 minutes when Pepys had his done in the 17th century, but was down to under a minute by the end of the 18th century. They could take a leg off and have the patient back in the ward in 20 minutes. Speed was pretty crucial as there was no anaesthetic so the patient felt - and saw - everything. The pain was the least of their worries, though, as vast numbers of patients died of septicaemia - unsurprising as the operating table was wood, the bandages made of any old cloth lying around the hospital, the surgeon wore a blood and pus-covered apron (to show how experienced he was) and he didn't see a need to wash his hands or the wound.

No wonder most people steered clear of hospitals.

A month ago I saw the Dirt exhibition at the Wellcome Collection (http://www.wellcomecollection.org/whats-on/exhibitions/dirt.aspx) just before it closed and among the artefacts was this 17th century Dutch household book of remedies. A woman would have to know so much just to keep her family safe - it's humbling for those of use who simply ring the doctor, or Google our symptoms (and wish we hadn't).



Of everything I saw at Dirt - and there was a lot to see - this is the one I felt a direct connection to. I can imagine sitting at a table with the writer of this book, comparing notes and sharing remedies. I rather wish I had.

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