mythologyofblue:

Lewis Sayre and his suspension device for the treatment of scoliosis (1877)

(gravellyrun)

caskette:

Giant ovarian tumor, 1851
Dr. Stanley B. Burns

It wasn’t as uncommon as one might think to find grotesquely overgrown ovaries, testicles, and lymph nodes, especially in the lower classes. Being unable to afford to see a doctor until it was clearly too late to do much was not uncommon, and charity hospitals didn’t have many beds. There weren’t emergency rooms back then, which are compelled to provide care. Or, if you live outside the US, there wasn’t the health care you’re able to get just by living.

 
Either way, cancers in the lower class were frequently left until the patient was dead or nearly dead, and once they got to medical care (if they ever did), they were curiosities to be marveled at, by simply still being alive. Because of this, many of the very severe cases that eventually made it to medical care after ca. 1850 were well documented, both in terms of being photographed and having the clinical presentations documented.

ofpaperandponies:

questionableadvice:

~ Lancaster Herald, July 8, 1868
via LancasterHistory.org

“ARTIFICIAL EYES, inserted without pain.”

I wonder how many of the patients needing artificial eyes were ex-Civil War soldiers…

French eyes! Those were what the ones who could afford it got. They were the thing to have if you had an eye. Because artificial eyes apparently have trends.

From the Burns Archive. This guy lost his eye during the Civil War…obviously doesn’t have a “real” artificial eye, but has something inserted into the socket to maintain facial symmetry and bone structure. Over time, if nothing is kept in the socket, the bones around the eye socket can actually grow in ways that can deform the face even more. That deformation can pull the skin, and damage the ability to see out of the non-missing eye.

fuckyeahmedicalstuff:

Syphiloderma Tuberculosum, George Henry Fox, MD, NY 1881

Original donated to Burns Archive from Fox estate.

Early 20th-century ventilation testing device. It worked much the same as modern tank-type spirometers do today. In TB, asthma, bronchitis, emphysema, and other situations affecting lung function, ventilation testing can both help patients improve the function of their lungs, and let doctors know where a patient is at in terms of overall well-being.

While many aspects of inspiration and respiration were known and studied in the early 1900s, the most common lung test these days, peak expiratory flow (which measures the airflow through the bronchi and is especially important in asthma), was not on the scene until 1959.

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When Charles Schulz had a heart attack in 1982, his doctors realized that his poor lung function following his quadruple bypass would greatly prolong his recovery, and presented him with an incentive spirometer. When patients are recovering from rib damage (as in many people who have undergone CPR) or heart surgery that requires extended bed rest, use of an incentive spirometer reduces the chances of deadly fluid buildup in the lungs. Every day, patients breathe in through the device as slowly and deeply as possible, and balls or plungers inside the spirometer indicate lung function, by indicating sustained inhalation vacuum.

While hospitalized, a nurse put a black paint marker at Schulz’ bedside. She didn’t say much, except that if he could draw something on the wall before he left (this was after Schulz was off of bed rest, but not ready to leave), it would greatly cheer future patients who are going through the same things that he is. Though Schulz never before or after did “requests” using his Peanuts characters, the day before he left, he decided to draw a few quick panels on the wall (despite his hand tremors that developed after the quadruple bypass). 

The panels were of Snoopy in the hospital, with an incentive spirometer. He tries and tries to get the three balls to where they have to be, over and over, and when he finally does, he collapses with exhaustion. Schulz commented that the frustration and agony at getting the spirometer balls in place was what impressed upon him the most at the hospital. It wasn’t an “upbeat” strip, it wasn’t a “happy” strip, but it was one that showed that even Snoopy, the Red Baron, had a hard time with what they were going through. He could commiserate. And in the end, he could do it…but he knew how hard it was.

Try as I might, I can’t find a photograph of that strip he drew. The story of it comes from the official 50th Anniversary Peanuts collection.

1844 hand-tinted photograph of a dentist. This is thought to be the earliest extant studio photograph of a medical professional. From the Burns Archive

Photograph of an emergency lung ambulance from 1937. From the Burns Archive.

Close-up of iridectomy, from the first book about eye surgery to use photographs demonstrating procedures. 1870.

Iridectomy was one of the first eye surgeries that actually helped (at least after aseptic technique was used). Iridectomies were used in removing cataracts, and later were used to treat closed-angle (acute) glaucoma by relieving dangerously high intraocular pressure.

One of three active bloodletting photographs known to exist, in the Burns Archive. I love the tinting of the blood on this.

Bloodletting has been used medicinally for over 3000 years.

Lupus vulgaris with corneal leucoma, from 1860s