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Science-based medicine throughout time

As 2013 comes to a close, because this probably will be my last post of 2013 (unless, of course, something comes up that I can’t resist blogging about before my next turn a week from now), I had thought of doing one of those cheesy end-of-year lists related to the topic of science-based medicine. Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with anything I haven’t already done. I even thought of coming up with a list of New Year’s resolutions for 2014. In fact, I even thought of making the first one—in a self-deprecating manner, of course—to be to stop being so mean, nasty, and dogmatic, the better to satisfy my detractors. But then I remembered that nothing is likely to satisfy my detractors and, besides, my ever-lovin’ cuddliness is what makes me so popular. Besides, I have to be me and gotta be true to myself, and all that rot, so that idea went out the window. Of course, what was worse than my inability to come up with something was that I couldn’t think of a way to make it funny. When you’re trying to be funny following the inimitable Mark Crislip, you’d damned well better be funny. So, until my humorous instincts come back, serious it has to be.

But serious doesn’t necessarily mean heavy. The end of a year is a time both to look back on the year before and look forward to the year to come. This year in many ways was a good year for us here at SBM. We launched a Facebook page, reinvigorated our Twitter feed, and have experienced a significant growth in our traffic. Those who know me and/or follow me on various social media know that I’m a big Doctor Who fan, I have been since the 1980s. So the last two big events of the year, the 50th anniversary special in November and the Christmas special on, well, Christmas got me to thinking about time travel, and thinking about time travel revived memories of a topic I covered on my not-so-super-secret other blog four years ago and had been meaning to treat here sometime. It’s a fun topic to finish out the year, not to mention a way for me to blatantly sneak Doctor Who references into an SBM post.

Being a Doctor Who fan and all, not surprisingly, I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be able to travel through time and visit times and places in history that I’m most interested in. For instance, being a World War II buff, I’d certainly want to be able to check out what everyday life was like here in the U.S. during World War II. Given my affinity for psychedelic music and that I was only four years old during most of the Summer of Love, I’d think it cool to check out Haight-Ashbury, although I suspect my reaction to the reality of it would be similar to that of George Harrison when he checked it out for the first time. I guess, if pushed, I’d have to admit that if I were old enough to have been a high school or college student in 1967, I probably would have been one of those straight-laced, short-haired types destined either to go to college to become a doctor or engineer, or to go to Vietnam to fight. Despite loving the music, I never had any interest in experimenting with the drugs. Beer, wine, and—occasionally—a martini or two are my drugs of choice and then only for medicinal purposes, as they say. Heck, I never even tried to smoke tobacco. Even as a child I couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke to the point where it was never even really a temptation.

In any case, what provoked my original bit of musing was a post a few years ago by Martin Rundkvist, who wrote about Fear of Time Travel, where he imagines what it would be like for a modern person to be transported back in time:

First, imagine that you’re dropped into a foreign city with only the clothes you wear. No wallet, no hand bag, no money, no cell phone, no identification. Pretty scary, huh? But still, most of us would get out of the situation fairly easily. We would find the embassy of our country of origin, or if it were in another city, contact the local police and ask to use their phone. A few days later we would be home.

That’s not the scary scenario I rehearse. Imagine that you’re dropped into the city you live in with only the clothes you wear. No wallet, no hand bag, no money, no cell phone, no identification. And it’s 500 years ago. (Or for you colonial types, 300 years ago in one of your country’s first cities.)


It’s a fun thought experiment, with Martin pointing out that you would speak the language with what to the natives living at that time would seem a very strange and nearly incomprehensible accent. Think of how hard it is to understand the English spoken in Shakespeare’s plays, which is full of idioms, turns of phrase, and vocabulary peculiar to the time, and then just think about the number of words that we use that would be incomprehensible to, say, an American living in the Midwest, which at the time for where I live would have been ruled by the French as part of New France but mostly populated by indigenous tribes. So for purposes of the thought experiment, I’ll pick New York or Boston. I could also make like The Doctor and claim imagine that the TARDIS (or something else) had given me the ability to speak the native language and appear to be dressed like everyone else. Or I could imagine that I didn’t understand the language and had to learn it. Over time, it wouldn’t really matter. Here’s the part of Martin’s thought experiment that caught my eye:

Some might think that a well educated modern Westerner would soon become one of the sages of the age thanks to their superior technological and scientific knowledge. For one thing, it wouldn’t be hard for most of us to become the best doctor in the world of AD 1509 if knowledge was all it took. But I have a feeling that such knowledge would not be easily applied in a society that is completely unprepared for it, and not easily implemented in an environment where none of today’s infrastructure exists. And say that you’re actually a doctor or an engineer – how much could you achieve without access to any materials or tools invented in the past 500 years? I mean, I know the principles of nuclear fusion, aviation, antibiotics, vaccination and basic biochemistry, but don’t ask me to put them into practice starting from scratch!

Well, I am a physician and surgeon, and I don’t know if I could elevate myself to a sage of the age with my knowledge. The reason is that so much of what I do and have done in medicine relies on the technology and science of the time—this time, as in the decades between 1984 (when I entered medical school) and now. Let’s start with something very, very basic. I’m a surgeon. I try to cure or treat diseases by operating. Operating on a patient, however, is very difficult without reliable anesthesia, and inhalational anesthesia using ethyl ether wasn’t discovered and widely applied until the 1840s. Before that, there were various herbal anesthetics and hypnotics, natural drugs like opium extracts and later morphine, and even alcohol. While these may have sufficed for minor operations (barely), they were not at all sufficient for doing anything major, such as entering a major body cavity like the abdomen or chest.

That’s why, before anesthesia, surgeons had to be fast, and surgery was very bloody. Think of Abigail “Nabby” Adams Smith, the first born of our second President, John Adams. She was diagnosed with a malignant tumor of the breast and underwent a mastectomy without anesthesia, the gruesome details of which were described both in David McCollough’s biography John Adams and in Jim Olson’s Essay on Nabby Adams:

Nabby entered into the room as if dressed for a Sunday service. She was a proper woman and acted the part. The doctors were professionally attired in frock coats, with shirts and ties. Modesty demanded that Nabby unbutton only the top of her dress and slip it off her left shoulder, exposing the diseased breast but little else. She remained fully clothed. Since they knew nothing of bacteria in the early 1800s, there were no gloves or surgical masks, no need for Warren to scrub his hands or disinfect Nabby’s chest before the operation or cover his own hair. Warren had her sit down and lean back in a reclining chair. He belted her waist, legs, feet, and right arm to the chair and had her raise her left arm above her head so that the pectoralis major muscle would push the breast up. A physician took Nabby’s raised arm by the elbow and held it, while another stood behind her, pressing her shoulders and neck to the chair.

Warren then straddled Nabby’s knees, leaned over her semi-reclined body, and went to work. He took the two-pronged fork and thrust it deep into the breast. With his left hand, he held onto the fork and raised up on it, lifting the breast from the chest wall. He reached over for the large razor and started slicing into the base of the breast, moving from the middle of her chest toward her left side. When the breast was completely severed, Warren lifted it away from Nabby’s chest with the fork. But the tumor was larger and more widespread then [sic] he had anticipated. Hard knots of tumor could be felt in the lymph nodes under her left arm. He razored in there as well and pulled out nodes and tumor. Nabby grimaced and groaned, flinching and twisting in the chair, with blood staining her dress and Warren’s shirt and pants. Her hair matted in sweat. Abigail, William, and Caroline turned away from the gruesome struggle. To stop the bleeding, Warren pulled a red-hot spatula from the oven and applied it several times to the wound, cauterizing the worst bleeding points. With each touch, steamy wisps of smoke hissed into the air and filled the room with the distinct smell of burning flesh. Warren then sutured the wounds, bandaged them, stepped back from Nabby, and mercifully told her that it was over. The whole procedure had taken less than twenty-five minutes, but it took more than an hour to dress the wounds. Abigail and Caroline then went to the surgical chair and helped Nabby pull her dress back over her left shoulder as modesty demanded. The four surgeons remained astonished that she had endured pain so stoically.

Without effective anesthesia, I could do no better than these surgeons from 200 years ago or the surgeons from 300 years ago. In fact, I would probably do much worse, because I’m used to operating in a deliberate fashion, cauterizing individual blood vessels as I go. The reason surgery before science-based inhalational anesthesia was discovered was “cut and slash” was because it had to be. To do otherwise was to prolong what was quite literally the torture of the patient. I wasn’t trained to operate that way. I’m not used to operating that way, and there was no such thing as a Bovie electrocautery machine back then. It would all be scalpels, hot irons, and scissors–or, as in Nabby Adams’ case, razor blades and, in essence, a set of tongs to elevate the breast. It’s another reason why surgeons were frequently so fast in doing amputations that their assistants had to be careful not to let their fingers get in the way. As for more extensive operations, even with the anesthesia available in the latter half of the 1800s, a full 150 years after the time period Martin’s thought experiment envisions, there was no way to control respiration. Anesthesia was a delicate balance between not putting the patient so deep that he stopped breathing but putting him deep enough so that he wasn’t reacting overmuch to the surgical stimuli. Mechanical ventilators were an invention of the 20th century.

That’s just one example. There are numerous other tools, disciplines and examples of knowledge that a modern science-based surgeon depends upon in order to do his or her job, such as antibiotics and germ theory, pathology to identify what a patient has based on tissue samples, transfusions, and a wide variety of medications, to name a few. Then there’s diagnostic radiology. There would be no CTs or MRIs; there wouldn’t even be X-rays. Indeed, even something as simple as a suture would be a problem. The needles used 300 years ago were huge by today’s standards because of the difficulty of making small needles. The technology to do it was not widely available. Throughout history, needles were made of bone or metals such as silver, copper, or bronze, while sutures were made of cotton, flax, hemp, silk, or even tendons and nerves. There was a reason they called “catgut” suture catgut. Although cat gut suture was not made from the actual gut of cats, it was made from actual gut – connective tissue from intestines. (Actually, cat gut was pretty good suture and was still occasionally used 25 years ago when I first started my residency, mainly by the older surgeons.)

In any case, I think Martin’s right in that, without the infrastructure and scientific background being there, it would be very, very difficult for a surgeon of 2013 like me to recreate in the year 1713 much of anything that I do now, even if I were dropped into Boston among the most learned physicians of the age. No one there would have any idea of germ theory (and thus sterile technique, both of which were at least 150 years away), anesthesia (which was 130 years away), or much of basic physiology. Indeed, at that time, diseases were thought to be caused by imbalances in the four humors or miasmas, for the most part. If I were to try to explain the concepts that underlie the science-based medicine of today to the learned men of the time, assuming I could master the dialect of 300 years ago and find a way to describe the concepts to them, they’d assume I was either mad or a witch. It would be a good thing for me that the wave of witch hunts that swept through New England was pretty much over by the early 18th century.

There is one area that I can think of where a surgeon of 2010 might be able to translate some of his knowledge into 1710 and hope to have some influence. The first, of course, is sterile technique. It would not be that huge of an undertaking to sterilize instruments (although sterilizing sutures would be very problematic), either in flame or in alcohol. It would probably not be that huge a challenge to use alcohol, carbolic acid, or some other compound to clean the operative field, the patient’s skin, and one’s hands. (Given the lack of latex or rubber gloves, I’m not sure if it would be possible not to operate with my bare hands, as surgeons of the time did–and in fact continued to do until the late 1800s and beyond). In other words, I could be Joseph Lister 150 years before Lister showed the benefits of antisepsis, publishing his seminal paper on the benefits of antisepsis in 1867.

Come to think of it, I could potentially be Louis Pasteur, again 150 years before Pasteur did much of his work. At the very least, I could figure out how to replicate his experiments disproving abiogenesis and to develop Pasteurization. Of course, convincing the world of 1710 of the validity of these ideas would be even harder than it was for Louis Pasteur to convince his contemporaries of germ theory, because far less of the ground work would have been laid. SBM builds on the science of the times incrementally, and if the requisite prior discoveries haven’t been made yet it’s hard for new science-based modalities to take hold. Lister’s discovery, for instance, didn’t take hold in the US until over a decade after it took hold in Germany because of resistance to the germ theory of disease.

In fact, it brings up an issue that should demonstrate just how hard it would be to convince the physicians and surgeons of 1713 of our knowledge. Consider something as simple as blood pressure. Although the ancient Egyptians knew enough to palpate pulses, the very first measurements of blood pressure (more accurately, pulse pressure) were not made until 1733 (twenty years before I’d be dropped into New England) by Stephen Hales, who measured the blood pressure of a horse. It was not until 1855 when the first sphygmomanometer was devised by Vierordt of Tubingen, an instrument called at the time the sphygmograph, which was considerably improved upon by Etienne Jules Marey in 1860. Before this, it was not possible to measure arterial blood pressure other than under surgical conditions using a canula inserted directly into an artery. Finally, the modern version of the sphygmomanometer was invented by Samuel Siegfried Karl Ritter von Basch in 1881, but Italian physician Scipione Riva-Rocci improved upon it by producing a more easily-used version in 1896. After that, Harvey Cushing discovered the device during a visit to Italy in 1901 and popularized its use in the U.S. after he returned home. What all this means is that the routine measuring of blood pressure as a “vital sign” in virtually all patients did not become truly routine until 100 years ago. Even more amazing, it was still 20 years before Russian physician Nikolai Korotkov popularized the use of the device to measure diastolic blood pressure as well, meaning that the systolic/diastolic blood pressure ratio that we’re all familiar with didn’t become routine practice until the 1920s.

Hmmm. Maybe I could be Harvey Cushing 200 years before Harvey Cushing was in his prime.

In any case, if there’s one thing this little thought experiment has done for me, it’s to make me realize how much of what I do depends on hundreds of years of history and science and any achievements I may have in my career rest squarely on the shoulders of giants. I’ll take another example from my very own specialty, the “god” of modern surgery William Stewart Halsted, who practiced surgery from the late 1870s until his death in 1922. During that time, he pioneered so many surgical advancements that it’s amazing that one person came up with so many ideas and pushed the envelope so much.

In imagining myself 300 years ago trying to replicate such advances more than 150 years sooner than Halsted, I have to think about the sorts of resistance he encountered. For example, when he was working at Bellevue Hospital in New York, Halsted saw Joseph Lister present his discoveries. Inspired by Lister, Halsted tried to convince hospital administrators to construct a sterile operating room. The hospital refused, because it would have been very expensive and was considered at the time to be “wildly innovative.” (The administrators, I suspect, didn’t mean that in a good way.) So Halsted used $10,000 of his own funds to erect a tent on hospital grounds. He equipped it with maple floors, gas lights, and sterilization facilities. Basically, it was the first planned sterile operating environment in the U.S., possibly in medical history. Ironically, Halsted had also pioneered the use of sterile latex operating gloves because his fiancée (she was his nurse at the time) complained that the antiseptic mercuric bichloride had caused dermatitis on her hands. Given how much difficulty physicians and scientists like Halsted and, before him, Ignaz Semmelweis and Louis Pasteur had convincing a scientific world that was primed for their discoveries, imagine how much difficulty I would have convincing the physicians and scientists of 1713 of my discoveries. I can’t help but think that if I were to be dropped in Europe in 1513 (Martin’s original idea of traveling 500 years back in time), I might be introduced to the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, depending upon where in Europe I ended up.

Of course, Halsted was also often rather adventurous (some might say overly so) in his achievements, for example:

In 1881, while visiting the family home in Albany, New York, he performed the first emergency blood transfusion, drawing his own blood and injecting it into his sister’s bloodstream when he found her passed out from a postpartum hemorrhage. The next year he performed emergency gall bladder surgery on his mother, performing the operation on her kitchen table — administering ether to knock her out, sanitizing his hands and equipment by dipping them in carbolic acid, then slicing into her abdomen and gall bladder, draining vast amounts of pus and removing seven stones — the first recorded surgery to remove gallstones.

Obviously, both of these emergencies could have ended disastrously. Halsted’s sister could easily have died from a transfusion reaction, given that virtually nothing was known at the time about immunology or blood typing, and his mother could easily have died due to her home surgery, although given the lack of antibiotics she would almost certainly have died without treatment. No doubt Halsted knew that.

How I treat breast cancer also depends upon hundreds of years of painfully-gained advances in scientific knowledge and is (usually) the best that can be achieved at the time. This inevitably brings me back to the example of Halsted. Halsted performed the first radical mastectomy in 1882. It was a long, extensive, and bloody operation for the time. In talks on the history of breast cancer surgery that I have given, I like to point out that, early on, Halsted’s surgery was viewed as butchery. However, as his survival data matured and it turned out that he produced survival rates better than other surgeons operating at the time, his method became the standard of care for the next 80 years. Yes, it was brutal surgery, but it made sense at the time. When Halsted operated, there was no chemotherapy. Even though Emil Grubbe had demonstrated the first use of radiation to treat cancer in 1896, radiation therapy was crude and the concept of adjuvant radiation therapy was decades away. If breast cancer was going to be cured, surgery alone would have to do it, and, given the scientific understanding of cancer at the time, it made sense to perform a radical resection of the breast and all lymph nodes to which the cancer might drain. Later scientific discoveries and developments rendered such radical surgery unnecessary, but, although it can be argued that such surgery persisted as the standard of care too long after other, less disfiguring, surgery became possible, it makes no sense to criticize the surgery as barbaric when at the time it was the best available and was consistent with the then-current science.

Finally, this fun little thought experiment brings me back to the present through the lens of history. Critics of SBM, in particular those who advocate what we like to call unscientific medicine or pseudomedicine, often make the claim that today’s treatments of cancer will, 50 or 100 years from now, be considered barbaric and unscientific. This sort of idea is sometimes expressed in pop culture as well. Indeed, one is reminded of a scene in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (whose plot, not coincidentally, involves the crew of the Enterprise time traveling back to San Francisco in 1986). In that scene, some of the crew finds itself in a hospital of 1986, and Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy is horrified at dialysis, which he likens to the Dark Ages:

Later in the scene, he likens a debate between two residents about radical chemotherapy to the “goddamned Spanish Inquisition.”

Did I ever mention, by the way, that Dr. McCoy was one of my inspirations for becoming a doctor?

Of course, this movie scene is a perfect way to end this post. In ST:IV, the time difference is 300 years, the crew of the Enterprise having traveled back from Star Date 8390, which corresponds to the year 2286, back to the year 1986. Perfect! This is pretty much the same as my traveling 300 years back in time to 1713, at least enough for my purposes. I’ve tried to give you a flavor of how different that world was in terms of medicine and how out of place my skills would be there. All that I know about medicine and all of my skills as a surgeon and scientist rest on the advancements of anatomy, chemistry, physiology, and science that have been painstakingly discovered, mostly over the last 300 years—actually, mostly over the last 150 years. So it’s not at all unreasonable to guess that to a fictional doctor from nearly 300 years from now our medicine would seem as primitive as the medicine of 1713 does to a physician like me from today. However, disparaging such medicine as primitive and brutal is misguided. The medicine of 1713 was brutal and primitive because the science didn’t yet exist to make it otherwise. A physician traveling back to that time would discover just how true that is and how difficult it would be to convince his peers of the time of how much better his science and treatments are.

In other words, even if it is true that the science-based medicine of 2313 would be as far ahead of the science-based medicine of 2013 as the SBM of 2013 is compared to the best of 1713 (or the fictional SBM of 2286 is compared to that of 1986), that’s beside the point. We don’t know the science that will inform the medical advancements of the next 300 years any more than physicians of 1713 had a glimmer of an idea of the advances and discoveries that would be made over the next 300 years from them. SBM is always changing and adapting in response to new scientific discoveries. The process is often slower and messier than we would like, but it does continue. The SBM of today will give way as new discoveries are made, and it is not at all shameful if medicine in even 50 years is very different than it is now. After all, medicine now is much different in so many ways from what it was in 1963, and that doesn’t make the physicians of 1963 incompetent. Like us, they were products of their time.

Finally, it occurs to me that the way medicine was practiced 300 years ago here in the colonies bears a lot of resemblance to many “alternative” therapies. Medicines back then were virtually all derived from herbs or animal products, often the herbs or animal products themselves, unpurified. Germ theory was at least 150 years in the future, and disease was thought to be due to things that very much resemble alt-med’s concepts of disturbances in the flow of qi. While I might be very much a fish out of water in 1710 as far as trying to practice medicine and surgery, I suspect many “alternative” medicine practitioners would not be, and that’s the difference. SBM changes substantively as science advances. In “complementary and alternative medicine,” (CAM), the ideas remain the same, and only the names change.

Posted in: Cancer, Critical Thinking, Science and the Media, Surgical Procedures

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39 thoughts on “Science-based medicine throughout time

  1. George_S says:

    Excellent post. I read SBM every morning while I eat breakfast. I work in the biological sciences and we spend a lot of time at coffee and lunch discussing quite a few of the issues that are presented here.

    I have a copy of a 1908 Sears catalog at home and it is like going back in a time machine. There are some real gems in there, especially when comparing it to a 2008 catalog.

    My mother worked as a nurse from about 1945 until 1992 when she retired at age 71. The changes she saw were incredible. When she first started, nurses worked 6.5 – 12 hour shifts a week and lived in a residence attached to the hospital and when they got married they lost their jobs. She always thought the anti-vaccine people were fools. She would talk about the ward full of children with whooping cough with one of their parents sleeping beside or under the bed on the floor to be able to help them through the coughing fits, and all the other terrible childhood diseases that disappeared after vaccines became available.

    The dentist I had when I was a kid didn’t like to waste time with local anaesthetic. He would tell you that the needle hurt worse than the dental work. You cannot believe how much a deep filling in a molar hurts. I think he liked that you held your mouth open wide when you were screaming in pain.

    It is a shame that the alternative medicine crowd want to take us back to the “good old” days for some reason. Keep up your good work defending the truth and have a great 2014.

    1. weing says:

      “You cannot believe how much a deep filling in a molar hurts.”
      I know the feeling. Had a root canal done that way. It was even worse.

  2. BobbyGvegas says:

    Over the holidays I’ve been reading and re-reading and re-reading Mario Bunge’s “Medical Philosophy” (thanks to y’all). Will be reviewing it in more depth shortly on my REC blog. Excellent (except for his straw man shot at Bayesianism). lots to ponder. You guys never fail to gum up my workload. ;)

    Happy New Year. Keep it up.

  3. rork says:

    500 years ago I could invent stuff. Steam engines. The logarithm. Least squares. The calculus. Decision theory. How to aim cannons. Telescopes. Laws about gravity. Likelihood ratio tests. So many probability distributions would be called rorkian that it would be confusing though.

    1. Chris says:

      The one thing that would take time would be doing the calculations. You would need to create the tables of both natural and base ten logarithms. Even during WWII “calculators” were human:
      http://www.topsecretrosies.com/Top_Secret_Rosies/Home.html

      You’d also be less than a century ahead of John Napier. See Eli Maor’s e: The Story of a Number.

  4. I’ve also thought about this same issue, and how ineffective a physician I would surely be if transported to a time centuries past. Being a nephrologist I would be fairly helpless not having available the battery of laboratory testing I’m so accustomed to using to aide in diagnosis. No serum electrolytes, BUN, Cr levels, CBC, blood culture results or even simple urinalysis. To make things even worse, where would I get the many drugs that are necessary to make a difference on the non-surgical side of things. The power on the medical side of the equation lies not in the knife but in choosing the correct evidence based preparations to cure or treat disease, as something like a potion master in Harry Potter! No antibiotics, antihypertensives, anti-inflammatories, immunosuppressants, or chemotherapy. We would still have physical exam skills, observational skill, and critical thinking skill and to our advantage would be a superior knowledge of the sciences of physiology, chemistry, microbiology, biochem, genetics, etc. Would it make any difference over our colleagues in the past? I think we might still have a slight edge. Most of Dr. McCoy’s technology fits nicely on a belt or little black bag so he’s good to go.

  5. Alia says:

    I did that thought experiment myself. And I realized my only chance of survival would be to pretend I’m a lunatic and live as a beggar. Frankly speaking, without my glasses I wouldn’t be able to do any work anyway.

    1. David Gorski says:

      Oy. Good point. My vision is crappy but correctable. I’m very nearsighted. I could, however, do close in work by putting my face very close to the page. Crap. If this were 500 years ago, I’d probably have to become a monk to survive.

      1. Harriet Hall says:

        Since we wouldn’t know the proper prayers and religious customs, we might all be burned as heretics.

        1. goodnightirene says:

          I don’t think many of them have changed much–people your age might even be able to get back into the Latin Mass if you were brought up Catholic.

      2. Republicus says:

        In that regard, you have less to worry about since corrective lenses of a sort were used since the first century ce, and glasses of a recognizable form were invented in Italy in the 1300s.

        Now whether or not you’d be able to earn your keep without glasses in order to get glasses–that’s a more difficult question.

    2. Chris says:

      I am also nearsighted. Though I could probably get by with fine needlework, or doing household accounting. Someone needs to make sure the fall harvest lasts through the winter.

      They have found in Viking archeology digs jewelry and embroideries with details so fine that folks with normal vision need a magnifying glass to see them.

      1. Nashira says:

        Not to mention all the knitted goods (and nalbinding) done at gauges that shock and horrify modern knitters.

  6. goodnightirene says:

    Well, I was in Haight-Ashbury area circa 1968-69, and it was quite a let down. It was grubby with dirty people wandering about. I was still in my teens and was rather frightened by the state of many of the people. It turned me totally off the concept of even experimenting with drugs–a good thing on balance I think.

    I think if I landed in your scenario I might be able to pass myself off as a midwife and offer some real relief and assistance if I could gain the trust of some initial “clients”. Some simple hygiene and basic prenatal precautions could go a long way to achieve visible and positive outcomes. There’s no denying that many of my suggestions would be met with alarm and one would have to tread carefully at the outset.

  7. Frederick says:

    Excellent post, Again. That’s true glasses are such a important part of some people live. Luckily for me, only my left eyes is like -4 and my right -0.5. i had live without glasses for years ( although my right eyes had suffered from compensating for the left one). even there i worked as liftruck /terminal truck driver for years not using my glasses when i worked without problem. I can imagine the people back there with serious eyes problems, a lot of us will basically be blind!

    I have no real scientific education aside for a huge curiosity, i know a the basis of almost every science ( and Thank to SBM.org a lot more about medicine)! My skills and my current college formation are in computer and electronic… yeah useful.

    But i have a little over decade of factory working experience, manual work. I think that i could be able to build machines, maybe not steam machine, but at least manual operated ones. conveyor belt, pulley even simple hydraulic systems.
    Of course if I’m lucky and people around me don’t end up believing I’m a sorcerer, Even basic medicine knowledge and modern first aid skills could make me a Doctor back there. bandage, sterilization, CPR etc etc.

    You could also be a good engineer for house building, isolation, more efficient way of heating a house, Also knowing about how human waste disposal is important, that’s a big improvement too.
    My brother is a architect and my father is a farmer with self-learn skill in construction ( and 4 decades of experience), he show me a lot. and my Brother live and sleep Architecture. I was curious enough to assimilate a little of that knowledge.
    But still. in the lonely evening, I’ll basically get bored and think about how i’m missing so good episode of Almost Human and all how My PC games were so cool… And no books… At least not a lot. In any case even with the thing that are not good in this time, I’ll never swap for a others more primitive one, I’m happy in the WHEN i live.

  8. dh says:

    Makes me glad to be a “Buddhist”.

  9. dh says:

    Makes me glad to be a “Buddhist”.

  10. Angora Rabbit says:

    “If there’s one thing this little thought experiment has done for me, it’s to make me realize how much of what I do depends on hundreds of years of history and science and any achievements I may have in my career rest squarely on the shoulders of giants.”

    Agreed. Some years ago I had the pleasure of attending a seminar by Francois Jacob (speaking of giants), and afterward he invited just the graduate students and postdocs to chat, which was his first lesson that impressed me greatly. I asked if science was now harder because there was so many new things to know. I was still very wet behind the ears.

    A second reason for his greatness was his kindness. I remember his answer to this day. He said that each scientific generation has the same amount of facts and skills to master, but these are exchanged by new findings and discoveries. “For example, I am thankful that I no longer need to remember how to isolate TPN (NADH) prior to starting my experiment. I can just buy it off the shelf.”

    These were two wonderful lessons for a young scientist, and I continue to pay it forward.

  11. Chris says:

    Well one of my comments on another thread was approved, but neither that I did here today. Have they disappeared into the ether? Why does WordPress hate me and my ISP?

    1. DevoutCatalyst says:

      Chris, you still can’t see them ? I see two earlier comments of yours on this page.

      Sometimes I can read comments in a text browser (Links) minutes before any of my other browsers can see them. Strange.

      1. Chris says:

        Not at the time I made the comment, an hour before you. I check both the feed and recent comments page.

        Thanks to the moderators for dragging them out of the ether. I know it is just as frustrating for them that some of us are put into automatic moderation for no apparent reason.

  12. Birdy says:

    The way I see it, when I was born, HIV (which was only newly named) was more or less a death sentence. Now it is a chronic illness when one has access to appropriate medications, That, to me, is an incredible testament to how far we can go in such a short amount of time.

    The advance of medical ethics as well, is quite amazing when you look at it over the last hundred years or so. From eugenics and forced sterilization to where we are now, where even the hint of improperly obtained consent is a very big deal. If you even look at the original Salk vaccine roll out, I highly doubt that would be able to get approval today.

    It really is amazing to take some time and look back at how far we have come and try to think about where we will be going. Really makes me excited to see where things will go over the rest of my lifetime. Will I someday see custom grown (or printed?) organs become a standard option? It’s fun to think about.

    1. Frederick says:

      I read about some nano carbon tube use to make some kind of artifical muscle, we can imagine some kind of artificial arm or leg using that technique instead of simple bearing. ( in couple of years maybe decade of course)
      think of it, you are unfortunate you get you arm amputated, but they can grow it back with stem cell, for exemple, But it take like maybe months ( we could assume that if we ever achieve those tech it won’t be a “heal everything in 30 sec Elysium style” ) But for the time you wait they can replace it with a advanced cybernetic arm, or keep the robot arm, if you like the Adam Jensen look :-) )

  13. Sawyer says:

    I’ve played this thought experiment many times. It usually results in me being burned at the stake.

    Assuming you could somehow convince the nobles of 500 years ago you weren’t a heretic, imagine trying to convince them that what you were doing was important. Anyone could understand the concept of preventing death, but how are you going to explain to them that you need to develop a method of identifying the molecular weight of a compound? Or if you claim to be a great healer, why are you letting people die taking these things called “placebos”. It would be so depressing realizing that you couldn’t reveal most of your knowledge to those around you, because ultimately they are going to need to learn how to discover science on their own.

    1. Lytrigian says:

      Just label yourself an alchemist. They never came up with results, but were usually able to find patrons anyway. Who could resist the possibility of endless wealth and immortality?

  14. brewandferment says:

    I remember reading a paperback novel in early 1982 about a very large asteroid landing on earth, I think somewhere in Europe, but the impact on North America was still profound. The protagonists hole up somewhere in Colorado, I think (besides the fact that it was more than 30 years ago, I was recovering from having a steel pin removed from my healed femur so I could enlist in the Navy) but the thing that is causing them the most grief is their inability to know the basics of how things worked. They eventually brought an old timer into their stronghold, and he brought the most precious thing: a set of encyclopedias and other practical books that described how to make such things as pumps, wind electric motors, and so on. The goal was so that they could keep the present level of knowledge alive until enough people could recover to restore all the things we take so much for granted and continue to make progress.

    I can’t for the life of me remember the book title, and given that it was a paperback, it may have been some sort of forgettable pulp novel that my boyfriend got to amuse me while I was down hard. I do remember enjoying the book as well as finding the concept intriguing. If anyone has any clues to help me find the book so i can re-read it as a (hopefully) mature adult and compare to my impressions as a teenager, I’d appreciate it very much!

    But you have to wonder: if we lost all the amenities so drastically, how far back would medicine go? Even with modern attitudes and understanding among most people (and even most altmed folks still get hygienic issues like handwashing and such, even if they buy into some of the woo), what would today’s doctors do? Some things, like stethoscopes and manual blood pressure cuffs, would still function for as long as the supply lasted (who would corral them to ensure they were properly cared for and rationed??) but what about the adaptations needed for so many things that depend on just something as basic as electricity? It’s true that the old diagnostic skills of pre-electric days were missing so much that doctors now have at their fingertips and by no means were those skills superior, but how would you adapt current knowledge to function when the electrical grid is expected to be out even for a few months, let alone years?

    1. Chris says:

      Sounds like Lucifer’s Hammer. Scary because it could actually happen.

      It followed later with an alien invasion by meteor bombardment in Footfall.

      1. brewandferment says:

        Hmmm…..thanks for the link, will have to get from library. I sure don’t remember any existence of the political intrigue etc, but like I said, time and situation….and it was published reasonably close to the time I would have read it. The rest of the plot sounds like what I remember–did you also read the book, or have it at home?? it seems like an obscure enough book, how did you figure it out? I wouldn’t have read the authors’ other book, never was a fan of the alien invasion genre even though I enjoyed the tv series “V”

        I liked the idea of exploring such a natural disaster that was completely outside human influence or ability to control beyond whatever preparations were in place or where one lived by the luck of the draw (ie far enough inland).

      2. David Gorski says:

        Interestingly, I read both of those novels. I don’t remember them very well, given that I read them back in the early 1980s, when I was in college.

        1. brewandferment says:

          I would have been in college then too…but I was too contrary to do the expected thing on the expected timeline, and besides I was bored with the whole school routine and completely disinterested in more studying right then. Wish I had been aware of all the shoestring budget backpackers roaming the corners of the world, I might have run off and joined them.

      3. Chris says:

        Yes, I read them both in the 1980s. My hubby bought both books, and I just checked the shelves and we have Lucifer’s Hammer in paperback, and Footfall in hardcover, along with lots of other Niven/Pournelle books (like Ringworld and its sequel). Even after I have cleared out many of the books as part of “working towards retirement” downsizing.

        Dave, I am just a few years older so this was right after college (I spent my entire college career getting through Tolkien’s Ring Trilogy). The books were popular with us nerdy engineers, and we discussed them in the bullpen (before there were cubicles). We structural engineers were often interested in how our technical skills would work in that kind of world. (we all thought it was interesting that Pournelle blew up his hometown, Bellingham, which was just north of us).

        Add this to coming from a household where my dad bought books on how to make soap, cooking, growing food and surviving the next revolution or depression… I also wondered about the skills needed. I started edible gardening over thirty years ago before it became trendy. Plus this was the time when hubby and I were remodeling an old house mostly by ourselves.

        I was also going through several Ayn Rand books, so the libertarian angle resonated with me. But that phase was essentially over by the time Footfall was released, and I started to give that genre of sci-fi a pass. It is all part of growing up.

        Though I have switched from reading fiction to non-fiction, I still like to watch some post-apocalyptic films. I just caught up with Syfy’s “Defiance” series.

  15. Siobhan says:

    The TV series Lost in Austen touches on the gap in customs between different times. Amanda, a modern-day Austen lover, is sent back to the time of Pride and Prejudice, where the characters are shocked by her impropriety and scandalous dress. She, in turn, learns that she is living in a time without sandwiches, where people brush their teeth with chalk, and there is a whole new (old?) way of interacting which she cannot grasp (including “fan language”).

    Forget medical advances – it is the little societal changes that would get me. As fascinating as the past is, I couldn’t live in a time where there were no salad sandwiches or toothbrushes, and my modern behaviours would mark me as a lunatic outsider!

  16. SteveJ says:

    The Ring of Fire series, aka the 1632 series, of books transports a West Virginia town from 2000 to the middle of Germany in 1632. The uptime characters realize they can’t recreate modern technology, so they “gear down” to recreate 19th century tech. The stories touch upon how the uptime doctors and nurses have to adapt to the past.

  17. Marion says:

    I have never ever in my life of over 5 decades seen a documentary on television about the discovery of metal and metalworking. I would love to see a documentary that starts with the discovery of metal by cave people to the development of precision machine tooling to make things like hypodermic needles.

  18. Lytrigian says:

    I’m a software engineer living in a small California town, so neither my city nor my profession, nor any particular use for even the intellectual tools of my profession, would have existed 500 years ago. I’m not even sure I’d be able to put myself forward as literate, as the handwriting was so different from modern standards, and even if I could somehow pick up the vernacular I’d have insufficient Latin.

    Mind you, “no wallet, no hand bag, no money, no cell phone, no identification” doesn’t particularly disadvantage you over the locals of 500 years ago. Most people didn’t have any such things then. A little money, maybe, but even silver wasn’t all that easy to come by. (Only gold and silver were commonly used for money. Paper money didn’t exist, and copper and bronze weren’t usually used for coinage, although there might have been something like trading tokens in those metals, informally circulated within a community of merchants and artisans.)

  19. Dan Covill says:

    Sometime in the 1940s I read Jules Verne’s “Mysterious Island”, in which a group of explorers are marooned on a tropical island. They are a heterogeneous group, and combine their skills and knowledge to invent/create such things as soap, copper, steam power, etc., culminating in electricity!

    It was a wonderful lesson in the complexity of the infrastructure needed for the everyday ‘necessities’.

  20. Martin R says:

    Thanks for linking, David! Glad you liked my entry.

  21. Erica W says:

    In my current location, 3200 feet up a remote mountain, I would likely freeze to death before making fire. Unless I found help swiftly, the possible technologies I could re-create would be moot.
    Assuming I survived to reach other people (as this exercise does), then we try to overcome the disadvantages of being a total stranger without social connections.
    In a Native American winter camp I might make friends with sex, cooking, or carrying, if I were lucky; but propositioning someone else’s sweetheart can be a deadly wrong move. I’d probably trade my winter-worthy layers to elders for patronage.
    In a city, I’d almost rather go back 500 years than 300; a healthy woman willing to work might have a better chance. A society that regards unmarried and unchaperoned women as “fallen” might be a hard place to make one’s intellectual mark, especially if appearing on the public streets in trousers.
    But it’s always possible I’d have one of those fantasy encounters with a charitable patron, who likes my looks or something. Or fast-talk my way into suitable clothes and employment with a liberal apothecary. With a social patron, then we can discuss the chance to introduce cultural revolutions without getting dropped like a hot broomstick. Or we can posit a person of that time, suddenly endowed with the education (both mental and practical) that I’ve enjoyed today.

    The problem essentially asks “how much of your abilities are due to you, and how much to your surroundings?”

    Aid workers play out this scenario to a lesser degree every day.
    You are a doctor assigned to a village with both disaster-related (famine, flood, earthquake) and the usual rural medical complaints. Your supply lines are unreliable, as are your patients’ supplies of food, clean water, etc. On any given day, you have maybe 60% of the tools and medicines that you think you need, but your case load rarely corresponds to your inventory.
    Make your own sterilization equipment: your resources are dirt, a room with walls, two empty propane tanks, discarded non-sterile disposable equipment, and a car and two bicycles that have been stripped of their batteries and tyres. Oh, and corncobs, we have lots of those.
    The doctor I’m thinking of in Nigeria has also developed a suction pump powered by bicycle gears, typically operated by the patients’ relatives during surgery.

    Social networks matter here, too.
    Will the patient’s relatives protect you, help clean the operating room, track down odd requests, build prototypes? Will they ensure that you and any assistants are fed, housed, and allowed to sleep and train more help?
    Or will you be swamped with an endless deluge of needs that increases as your reputation grows?
    Do you have local warlords who come raiding for drugs, chop off someone’s hands on accusations of meddling? Did you happen to treat the right patients first, or do you find yourself on the wrong side of a powerful local patron? The ‘witchcraft’ accusation isn’t limited to Europe; knowledge is power, and powers compete.

    After working peace corps in Morocco, my sister reported that if there are people there, then they have whatever you need to sustain life.
    The problem becomes how to get them to share; and most of my ancestral cities did not have a particularly vehement hospitality ethic for penniless strangers. Where money is not common, social status matters even more.

    If one is allowed to plan ahead, or pack a “little black bag,” what would be in it?
    How much weight to give personal survival, immediate skills (sterile supplies / equipment), or tools and resources for re-developing methods in context (manuals, lab equipment)?

    Would you use folk medicine or even “quackery” to establish credibility, thus building support for odd notions like boiling the equipment?

    Are there any CAM techniques you’d dust off in preference to re-inventing the last few centuries of western science?
    I think I’d be glad for wilderness and herbal remedy training, in the absence of the refined drugs and facilities.

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