THE DIARY OF A DOCTOR WHO TELLS

Evening Star, Issue 22619, 10 April 1937, Page 2

THE DIARY OF A DOCTOR WHO TELLS

SAFETY IN SOAP Monday, April 5. “ So sorry my hands arc so dirty,” said a patient this evening. “Do you mind me washing them?” I signalled him to the surgery wash basin. “ I’ve come straight from work,” he chatted on, while performing the ablution, “ and although there is a wash basin there, of course I ran out of soap yesterday and forgot to take some this morning. “ There was a bit there,” he continued, “ but I hate using anyone else’s soap; never know what you might pick up, do you?” “ Don’t worry about picking up things from soap,” I replied. “It’s quite different from a towel. Just rinse a piece of common soap under the tap and it’s perfectly safe to use.” Soap is one of the best antiseptics in the world. Recent research has shown that ordinary soaps, even if used with cold water, will kill, by a moderate lather, germs as virulent as diphtheria, pneumonia, and meningitis. Hot water and soap is oven better, a fact worth knowing in the treatment of ordinary accidents.

Tuesday, April 6. “He is,” said Pennington-Smythe, in a ton#) of one settling the question for all lime, “ the sort of man who uses a tooth pick as soon as he’s had anything to eat.” Pennington-Smythe is the suburb’s chief snob. (As is the way of practically all snobs, his own social ancestry does not bear close analysis, and his snobbish attitude is a defensive reaction against the ever-present fear that someone may assail it.) “ The tooth pick,” I suggested deliberately, “ is something which could with advantage be used more often than it is. It would help to ensure cleanliness, which is, after all, just as desirable in the teeth as in the hands and face.”

“ I regard the tooth pick as a revolting American habit,” replied Penning-ton-Smythe coldly. “ It’s certainly not American,” I replied, seeing a chance to get in. “ On the contrary, the tooth pick has been an adjunct to cleanliness for thousands of years. It is not so long ago that it was the mark of a society man that he used one.”

“ I find that difficult to believe,” replied Pennington-Smythe. “ See for yourself,” I suggested, and handed him a volume opened. I found the place for him, and he read:—

Know that among elegant people who take pride in their appearance, and among those possessing a fine education, there is a habit of using a tooth pick and of cleaning the teeth with it.

“ It’s from the writing of an ancient Arab.” I explained.

“ I’m afraid that that fact doesn’t convince me about the needs of modem society,” he retorted haughtily. “ If modern society permitted itself the honesty of the tooth pick ft wouldn’t have to spend so much of its time sitting in a dentist’s chair,” ,1 rejoined tartly. More people suffer from dental decay than from any other disease. This is partly due to their diet and partly due to the fact that they do not really clean their teeth, being under the impression that if the toothbrush is used before breakfast, the debris of all the meals of the day can be left in the mouth in contact with the teeth till they are cleaned again before going to bed.

Wednesday, April 7. Mrs Ryan, dragging her son John behind her, came running up the surgery path this morning. “ Quick, doctor/’ she panted, “ he’s cut himself on a piece of rusty tin at the base of the thumb. I know it means lockjaw unless he gets some serum at once. Don’t say you haven’t got any?” I picked up the sobbing child and carried him in. “ Now, steady j everyone,” I said firmly, “ let’s talk it over; a few minutes’ delay won’t matter a scrap. In 'the first place, where was the tin? In the garden?” “No; it was on the top of a tin fence,” said the mother. “He was trying to climb over. It’s been there for years, and is frightfully rusty.” “ Then,” I said, “ don’t worry about lockjaw, or tetanus, any more.”

“ But the cut’s on the thumb,” protested Mrs Ryan. “ Surely that’s dangerous enough as it is?” “ No more dangerous than any other cut,” I explained. “ Everyone should know that tetanus (or lockjaw, if you like) is caused by a germ found in manure. It can infect any cut anywhere, and has nothing to do particularly with the thumb. Actually tbe foot is affocted far more often than the hand. . AVe’ll just wash this cut well and put some antiseptic on it and you’ll find it will heal quite well.” But there are still far too many deaths from tetanus. A cut while gardening, if from anywhere where there is a chance of manure, should receive expert attention. Of course, the vast majority of people escape scot-free, a fact which does not lessen the gravity of the situation to those who do not.

Thursday, April 8. At the hospital to-day we removed someone’s cystic kidney. Funny how a .person can live perfectly well and happily with only one kidney, hut could last only about four hours if the second one was removed. Fortunately, an all-wise Providence generally sees to it that there is always some kidney left to carry on with. I held the removed kidney in my gloved hand and thought with admiration of its construction. In the healthy state it consists of about a million tiny filters, each with its own blood supply. Stretched out, the filters and tubes would measure about 15 miles. No human machine can approach it for ingenuity of design and workmanship. The ancients thought the kidney to be the seat of the emotions . . . not a bad guess, actually, because the adrenal gland which sits on top of it is responsible for making the body respond to excitement and emotion. With other glands it makes us tighten-up, become pale, tremble, and even alters our heart-beat.

Friday, April 9. “I suppose this sounds a mad question,” said Philip Nallon, to-day, “ but how long should I live, barring accidents and the-plague?” 11 I am no prophet,” I said, “ and at the moment you are particularly healthy. If you like to hazard a rough guess, there are those who say that you should add together - the ages at death of your four grandparents and parents, and divide the total by six. The answer should give you a minimum expectation of life.”

Longevity, in sensibly-living people, has been on the average a matter of

ancestry. These scientific days, however, by calmly considering the lives and ailments of our grandparents, we can often, with success, deliberately set out to avoid the ills by which they, themselves, were overcome. (Names in this diary are fictitious. Copyright.)