Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences最新文献

In 1882, William Osler wrote "Professional Notes among the Indian Tribes about Great Slave Lake, NWT," a fantastical essay that purportedly described the sexual and obstetric customs of Indigenous peoples residing in the Canadian Northwest. Originally prepared as a prank, "Professional Notes," along with Osler's alter ego Egerton Yorrick Davis, became an elaborate inside joke that circulated widely among the medical elite for decades after Osler's death. In this essay, I trace the history and afterlife of "Professional Notes," considering both the colonial context of its creation as well as the reasons for its enduring popularity. I argue that "Professional Notes" both reflected and reinforced the anti-Indigenous racism that permeated the medical profession, particularly during its consolidation in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. I also make a methodological argument for the study of joking within the history of medicine, presenting "Professional Notes" as a powerful example of the role humour has played in shaping medical culture.

In the second half of the twentieth century, concerns about problems in the doctor-patient relationship gave way to a new medical discourse on suffering, owed largely to the work of American physician Eric Cassell. This article tracks the development of his theory of suffering and its global success in transforming tragic medical experiences into diagnosable clinical entities. Beginning with his intellectual development in the 1960s, this article traces Cassell's initial interest in suffering first to his early research on truth-telling and autonomy, followed by his pioneering work in bioethics. Although closely aligned with philosophy, much of the institutional success of bioethics came from American law, which affected Cassell's theorizing. At the same time, doctors experienced a growth in medical malpractice lawsuits, driven in large part by costly "pain and suffering" awards, which the medical community sought to curb by encouraging legislatures to codify informed consent. The success of these efforts mandated that doctors disclose previously withheld bad news capable of causing suffering. The cultural changes that followed these disclosures became Cassell's impetus, while legal pain and suffering supplied much of his theory's language and concepts.

Peptic ulcers were a common, and seemingly intractable, problem for surgeons in the US through the early twentieth century. Initial surgical efforts reduced operative mortality and achieved short term successes but failed to establish a definitive solution. The flawed successes of early ulcer surgery drove sustained effort to improve, producing a stream of novel operations over the decades. An examination of the history of ulcer surgery confirms the recent observation that surgical operations of this period were malleable entities subject to constant tinkering and repurposing. Yet, this dynamism in surgical practice remained in tension with conservative pressures, as surgeons hung on to familiar practices and sought to codify agreement on which operation served best for which purpose. Ulcer surgery became a workshop for attempts to resolve this tension. In this context, a canon of recognized operations emerged that accommodated novelties while preserving in surgical discourse an awareness of older operations. Established operations that fell from use literally remained on the books for decades. This compromise between innovation and operative conservatism favored the creative reuse of older ulcer operations, some repurposed, and some combined with other operations in new modular configurations. Ulcer surgery demonstrated recurring patterns of operative repurposing, reconfiguration, and modular recombination. This feature of twentieth-century ulcer surgery also highlights the attachment in modern surgical culture to the historicity of their endeavor, manifested for example in the wide use of eponyms and a fondness for deep genealogies of mentoring and training.

Readers of Samuel Shem's medical satire The House of God (1978) have long worried about the bad attitude of his main characters: young male internal medicine trainees. This article examines the interns' atrocious affections, using the feminist classic Our Bodies, Ourselves (1973) as a counterweight to the masculinist perspective of House of God. These radically different critiques of United States medicine derive from a shared sociopolitical context and represent a historically specific response to the personal politics of sexual liberation and self-actualization in the 1970s. I show that Shem and the Boston Women's Health Book Collective share a rhetorical strategy of "loose expertise" grounded in embodied knowledge, which connects both texts to the radical social movements of the late 1960s. Loose expertise enables institutional critique by shifting the domain of knowledge away from traditional structures of authority, but inhibits intersectional critique by essentializing the individual subject position of the author. The article concludes by examining the relationship of both texts to the medical humanities.