Medical museum documents the consequences of war
October 02, 2007 |
Judith Ritter
Washington, D.C.’s National Museum of Health and Medicine began
as a Civil War collection but has grown to include rare scientific instruments
and unusual pathological specimens
Think Washington, D.C., museums and you’ll most likely remember a trip
to one of the fabulous Smithsonian museums, such as the Hirshhorn, with collections
of paintings and sculpture. One museum, however, that is under the radar but
certainly merits more attention is the National Museum of Health and Medicine.
This strange and under-visited museum, located on the grounds of the Walter
Reed Army Hospital, is the repository of 24 million pathological and anatomical
specimens, artifacts, photographs and medical instruments documenting the history
of medical practice.
The museum was established during the U.S. Civil War, originally as a collection
of objects relating to military medicine of the period. Later, however, the
museum became a medical research centre that focused on infectious diseases
and on collections to support research in pathology. The museum’s exhibits—and
just 1% of its collection is on display—are fascinating if a bit gory.
The most visited section is the gallery of Civil War battlefield medicine.
Included are medical “bags” of the time, which were beautiful polished
wooden boxes, with hand-crafted brass, ebony or ivory medical instruments, such
as saws of all dimensions for battlefield amputations, and photographs of battlefield
surgery.
Since the museum was established in 1862 for medical research and to preserve
history, the Civil War section also has bits of bone pierced by a variety of
projectiles; evidence of the ferocity as the North engaged in pitched battles
with the South to save the union and abolish slavery. The most curious in this
display is the amputated leg of a famous general who, after the war, often brought
friends to the museum to view his own encased limb that had been shattered by
a cannon ball.
But certainly the most popular projectile in the collection is the one that
killed the 16th president of the U.S., Abraham Lincoln. There are also fragments
of the famous leader’s skull and a bloodied sleeve of the surgeon who
struggled to save Lincoln’s life. The surgeon, with an eye to history,
purportedly said of his own bloodied shirt, “If this is the President’s
blood, we should save it.” Other presidential body parts are represented
throughout the museum, such as James Garfield’s spine and Dwight Eisenhower’s
gallstones.
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| The museum houses close to 1,000 microscopes, including
this ornate version used by Robert Hooke in the 17th century. |
The museum also houses nearly 1,000 rare and beautiful microscopes, the largest
collection of microscopes in the world. There are microscopes from as far back
as 1632(Antonie van Leeuwenhoek’s tiny device)and the first electron
microscope, a clunky huge bit of white steel that looks like an industrial stove.
One of the treasures in the collection is the 17th-century microscope used by
Robert Hooke when he wrote the first book detailing observations about cells.
The microscope, so elegant in its design and so significant historically, is
made of wood, gold-tooled leather and brass.
For those who want to get nostalgic about the calmer good old days, one gallery
is replete with an installation of a doctor’s office of the 1930s. The
same gallery has a silver iron lung and, rescued from an old shoe store, a fluoroscope
where many children must have spent happy times looking at the green glow of
their foot bones.
There are endless pathology exhibits, which may leave non-medical visitors
squirming, but for health-care professionals who may have only seen cases such
as these in textbooks, the specimens are fascinating. In one area there are
blackened lungs, the embalmed head and shoulders of a patient poisoned by arsenic
and, floating in a large bottle of formaldehyde, the amputated leg, foot and
a scrotum the size of a dinner plate that had been ravaged by elephantiasis.
And for the kids(or the kid in all of us), there is an up-close and personal
look at the science of bloodletting. The exhibit of this old technique, now
enjoying a resurgence of popularity, includes not only brass cups and little
lances, but also the opportunity to watch live leeches lunching on bits of fresh
liver.
For folks with a penchant for pathology, this museum is a mecca. Discomfort
aside, there is something profound about a visit to a place that so explicitly
documents the consequences of wars on its participants.(There is an exhibit
of prosthetics ranging from hand-crafted “peg legs” to today’s
high-tech Cheetah leg.)This is a museum that is likely to make conflict resolution
junkies out of the most hawkish. Arriving and leaving through the Walter Reed
Army Hospital grounds, where young soldiers practise on their new prosthetics
or are wheeled around by family members, gives the museum exhibits a kind of
immediacy.
Judith Ritter is a freelance writer in Montreal.
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