The Quack Doctor

When doctors write about the history of medicine, there’s a danger that the result will be ‘look at me! I’ve just discovered the story of James Graham’s Celestial Bed and shall now proceed to show how clever I am by relating some well-known details about it in an urbane and witty fashion!’

Fortunately, Richard Moore (a retired GP who also has a history PhD) is not of this ilk, and presents a well-researched and engaging account of health provision in Shropshire in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Starting with an overview of what life was like for the county’s population at the beginning of the period, he goes on to trace the development of the medical profession and the voluntary hospital system as well as the sometimes surprising variety of other healthcare options.

In spite of the obvious focus on Moore’s home county, it would be a shame if the title confined the book to the local history section of Shrewsbury Waterstones. Not that there is anything wrong with local history, but the book is relevant to the development of health services across the country and I hope it won’t be neglected by researchers investigating other counties. I was struck by the similarity between the early years of Shrewsbury Infirmary and those of Chester, which I have studied in the past. I knew Chester’s governors had visited Shrewsbury for advice so it was fascinating to discover the close parallels between the organisations – right down to the problems of non-paying subscribers and unreliable porters.

Moore writes concisely and covers a lot in the 224 pages (trade paperback size), with workhouses, asylums, spa towns and friendly societies all taking their place as part of the health environment. The information is well-organised, however, so it never feels as though the author is trying to cram in too much. Bearing in mind that the book results from Moore’s PhD thesis, the style is also pleasantly free of academic show-offiness.  The sections on the rise of  ‘general practitioners’ (individuals qualified as both surgeon and apothecary but without a medical degree) were particularly useful for me as this important role in provincial healthcare tends to be glossed over in London-centric medical histories. For similar reasons I enjoyed reading about the cottage hospitals of the second half of the 19^th century.

The ‘quacks’ aspect of the book is not as prominent as the title suggests, though one can’t blame the publisher for including it as a sales point (and incidentally, Amberley have done a great job with the design and production). Many of the patent remedies mentioned are the ‘usual suspects’, such as Morison’s Pills and Solomon’s Balm of Gilead, which were advertised in newspapers all over the country. Moore, however, has also uncovered some interesting local Shropshire medicines – including Smith’s Ploughman’s Drops, which he suspects were an early commercial example of the use of digitalis.

The book’s focus refreshingly turns away from famous medical heroes and great discoveries, and puts the spotlight on ordinary practitioners and their patients, who got through life with inventiveness, fortitude and often humour. In a brief concluding chapter, Moore also makes some cogent points about modern health provision and our right – or otherwise – to free care under the pressurised NHS.

If you’re interested in the history of medicine and keen to look beyond the metropolis, Shropshire Doctors & Quacks is an engrossing and enjoyable read. .

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Shropshire Doctors & Quacks was published by Amberley in October 2011. ISBN: 9781445604312

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Doctors’ handwriting has long had a poor reputation, and I was amused to find this specimen, sent in to The Chemist and Druggist by an appalled pharmacist in June 1874.

The Chemist and Druggist 15 June 1874

A couple of months later, the magazine reported that the Scientific American had reproduced the prescription, commenting that it:

might indicate the vagaries of Planchette [i.e. spirit writing] or the tracks of a spider whose legs had been dipped in ink.

The annoyance to the dispenser was bad enough, but the Scientific American also pointed out the potential danger to the patient of an incorrectly compounded medicine, and urged druggists to make a point of returning illegible prescriptions to their perpetrator.

However, Alexander Cleghorn, a chemist from Cupar in Fife, had already tried this to no avail. He had to admit defeat in deciphering the following, but promised the patient he would write to the doctor for clarification.

Prescription sent in by Alexander Cleghorn, The Chemist and Druggist 15 August 1874

One can only imagine the force of the facepalm when he was ‘favoured with an elucidation of which the following is a facsimile’:

The prescriber clarifies what he meant. The Chemist and Druggist 15 August 1874

For a child diagnosed with a medical condition, life can suddenly become confusing and scary. Adults might not be equipped to answer their questions, or might even feel that it’s best to hide the truth. Meanwhile, Google turns up horrific prognoses or theories that the condition is part of some government/alien-lizard conspiracy to poison the world.

Dynamic new publisher Medikidz aims to tackle this lack of accurate, accessible medical information through a range of graphic novels for 10-14 year olds. They asked me if I would like to review one, so that’s why this post is different from The Quack Doctor‘s usual historical fare.

Medikidz’ sales support the Medikidz Foundation, a charity that distributes the books and other medical info free of charge in developing countries, where diseases such as malaria, tuberculosis and HIV are prevalent. In the long term, the Foundation aims to set up clinics to improve disadvantaged children’s access to medical care.

Given that children in the 21st century are still living in poverty and contracting TB, it feels a little Liz Jones-ish to whine that when I was a kid, I was the wheezy figure of fun trailing behind everyone else on the sports field, frequently ending up in hospital with only the drone of a nebuliser for entertainment – but that’s why I chose to review What’s Up with Max?: Medikidz Explain Asthma.

Like all Medikidz publications, the book features a gang of superheroes from Mediland, a planet in the form of a giant human body. After a water fight leaves Max gasping for breath, he is transported to this unusual place, where heroes Pump, Skinderella, Chi, Axon and Gastro give him a tour of the lungs. They are each experts on different aspects of the body, and are all very different characters, so children have a good chance of finding someone to identify with.

I was pleased to see the central character portrayed as an average kid with a personality rather than the chubby, friendless saddo sometimes associated with asthma. Actually, come to think of it… maybe it’s just me who was a chubby, friendless saddo.

The comic represents the immune system as an army overreacting to any tiny threat. When some smoke appears, the army calls in emergency troops, and the influx of soldiers inflames the lungs. During Max’s time in Mediland, he learns about peak flow tests, preventer and reliever medicines, and receives lots of reassurance that his condition can be controlled.

Such information has a lot of potential to be tedious, worthy, patronising or all three, but the authors (Medikidz CEO Dr Kim Chilman-Blair and former Marvel graphic novelist John Taddeo) have done a great job of avoiding these pitfalls by keeping the pace moving and by injecting plenty of humour.

As a sick kid hyper-aware of anything remotely condescending, I would have been dismissive of the whole idea of a book like this, but although the vibrant, action-packed illustrations are pitched well at the intended age group, it’s the comedy that would have won me round. Most of the humour comes from the food-loving Gastro, whose fart jokes and bogey-munching escapades bring the book to about my level, but there are plenty of subtler chuckles too.

I’m also impressed by the Medikidz website, which offers an index of medical conditions, treatments and procedures, all with accessible explanations that don’t talk down to children. The site features games, multimedia resources and a fledgling social network, where members will be able to join forums, start blogs and find others who share their experiences.

If you’re a health professional working with children, a parent wondering how to answer questions, or a young person seeking trustworthy information, it’s worth taking a look at Medikidz. These books help take the mystery and fear out of illness, with a few laughs along the way.

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What’s Up With Max? Medikidz Explain Asthma, is available from Medikidz’ website at £6.99

Atlas Obscura, the online compendium of the world’s wonders, curiosities, and esoterica, is hosting its second annual International Obscura Day on April 9, 2011, in partnership with Hendrick’s Gin. Last year’s Obscura Day saw 4000 attendees at events in 80 cities, in 20 countries all over the world.

Obscura Day is an ‘day of expeditions, back-room tours, and hidden treasures in your own home town,’ designed to makes explorers out of everyone, and to inspire the kind of curiosity and wonder usually reserved for exotic travels and far flung locations. Events will happen all over the world, hosted by obscure collections, unusual museums, eclectic hidden wonders, and curious-minded individuals. At many events, Hendrick’s Gin will be providing suitably unusual complimentary cocktails.

Those of us in the UK could take a candlelit tour of the mysterious Margate Shell Grotto, an exquisitely decorated series of underground passages discovered in 1835, or go behind the scenes at the Royal Observatory Greenwich, with tours led by Dr Rebekah Higgitt, Curator of the History of Science, and Rory McEvoy, Curator of Horology.

Photo credit: puuikibeach on Flickr

I’m rather keen to visit The Adventurists at the Royal Geographical Society Map Room for their Annual Film Festival. It promises to be an afternoon of quirky and gripping adventure films – but not the kind of slick documentaries that make it to your TV screen.

‘Adventure films are boring,’ say The Adventurists. ‘Triumph through adversity is yesterday’s news. We’re after failure through stupidity.’

The self-filmed adventures range from 3 minutes to 20 minutes long and there is still time to submit your own for a chance to win the grand prize of £500.

The day also features adventuresome speakers, including National Geographic Adventurer of the Year, Ed Stafford, who recently became the first chap to walk the length of the Amazon River from source to sea.

Tickets are £15 for the whole afternoon – to book, visit The Adventurists’ website, and to find out more about other Obscura Day events across the world see Atlas Obscura.