CHAPTER VIII.

AMONGST THE OUT-PATIENTS.

Some persons will tell you, with an air of the miraculous, that

they recovered _although_ they were given over; whereas they might

with more reason have said, they recovered _because_ they were

given over.

—_Lacon._

MOSCA. And then, they do it by experiment,

For which the law not only doth absolve them,

But gives them great reward, and he is loath

To hire his death so.

CORBACCIO. It is true, they kill

With as much license as a judge.

—_Ben Jonson._

While engaged during their first year at the medical school dissecting,

learning their bones, and listening to lectures on physiology, the

students were encouraged to attend the out-patient department of the

hospital. Hundreds of poor suffering folk attend at noon daily to

consult the physicians and surgeons on the staff. Very arduous is the

work these gentlemen perform. Many hours a week are given by them

gratuitously for this purpose, and half their lives may be said to be

passed here or in the wards. Such of them as in addition are lecturers

at the school receive fair but not very liberal fees, but the purely

hospital work is without monetary reward. Yet the appointments are

eagerly sought for by medical men, because of the publicity and private

practice which are sure to follow a successful hospital practitioner;

and above all, on account of the great number of rare and interesting

cases which occur in hospitals, giving great scope for the trying of

new remedies, new apparatus and modes of treatment, new operations and

new methods of dealing with obscure forms of disease. Every inducement

is held out for sick folk to attend the out-patient department of a

large hospital. The great majority of the cases may present no new

feature, but there will certainly be a fair proportion of strange and

curious maladies, inviting the attention of the penetrative skill of

some member of the staff. You see, you are sick of some grievous

disorder which your family doctor fails to cure. You demand to see some

specialist who has had larger experience of your class of case. He

sends for such a one who has passed half his life hunting up this

malady in its every phase; it is reasonable he should know more about

it than the man who has to attend to everything that comes in his way.

It is, therefore, very well worth the while of the aspirant to

“consulting practice” to spend every spare moment where he can see most

cases. This is the way the hospital pays him for his services. He

attends a hundred cases which cannot interest him, because of their

frequency; the hundred and first is a variant of the peculiar complaint

on which he is writing his great monograph. And there are ways by which

every one of the hundred others may be made to contribute their quota

of information. If you have not suffered from the complaint forming the

subject of the monograph, you will be lucky if you escape exhibiting

the genesis of the disease or one of its stages for clinical purposes.

The out-patient departments of the great general hospitals stand more

in need of reform than perhaps any of the charitable institutions of

our time. To the contributors and subscribers they appear, doubtless,

to be the one great means of affording poor persons the highest medical

and surgical advice, and the best medicines and appliances free of

charge. The poor believe this, the well-to-do middle classes, and even

the rich believe it. The out-patient department day after day is

thronged by several hundreds of men, women, and children, who go there

at noon and wait hour after hour, often till five o’clock in the

evening, for an interview with the physician or surgeon who, between

the hours of two and four, will probably see one hundred cases.

Well-dressed women and men, whose aspect proves them to be at least

above the necessity of obtaining medical assistance gratuitously,

occupy the time of the staff, and deplete the resources of the hospital

in respect of valuable drugs to the extent of many thousands of pounds’

worth annually in London alone. Vast numbers of patients attend who are

suffering from trifling ailments which need but the simplest home

remedies for their cure. On the other hand, children and adults of both

sexes go week after week to the out-patient department, when every time

they leave their room for the purpose, the exposure, the necessary

fatigue, the long waiting in draughty and over ventilated rooms, does

them more harm than any medical treatment they can receive, under such

circumstance, can do good. All this happens within the perfect

knowledge of the staff, who, so far from discountenancing the system,

encourage the patients to attend regularly, and seldom dissuade them

till the last days of the poor creatures’ existence. The reasons for

such policy, held to be paramount are these:

First; the greater the number of patients who seek the aid of the

charity, the greater claim the committee can make on the purses of the

charitable.

Again; the greater the number of the cases in hand day after day, the

more chance there is of getting hold of rare and interesting complaints

for their own notes and statistics; and for clinical teaching for their

students, who attend the out-patient department with great assiduity.

But even the simplest and least complicated case has its uses for

demonstration to the students. Here is a case of commencing phthisis;

there is one still more advanced; another is in the last stage; and all

afford good opportunities for demonstrating a multitude of points

useful for the tyros in medicine to know. A half-dead woman, with lungs

far advanced in the destructive changes of pulmonary consumption,

applies for treatment. She is examined with care and kindness by the

physician, who, having satisfied himself as to the nature and progress

of the disease, makes the requisite notes of her case, and hands her

over to his class for perhaps a dozen more fatiguing examinations. She

has been waiting probably two or three hours for the interview, for

another hour or more she must be stethoscoped, percussed, pounded and

pummelled, while the students are picking up from her emaciated and

wasting frame the elements of their profession. Nobody at the hospital

supposes for a moment they can do her any good, but she offers herself

in her ignorance, day after day, a sacrifice on the altar of science,

that her abnormal breathing sounds, and other phenomena of disease may

teach young men how to earn a respectable living. Then, again, there

are a vast number of minor operations, for the performance of which, by

novices, the out-patient departments afford peculiar facilities. How

much it adds to the terror, nervous apprehension, shame and mental

distress of the patients, who cannot but feel often how greatly their

trouble and risks are increased by their performances as school

experiments, can be readily imagined. No doubt medical men do as much

work for nothing as other professional men, but certainly not more—not

nearly so much as clergymen, for instance. Yet, the hospitals do not

pay their staff for all the time and labour devoted to its work. How,

then, are they paid? In the first place, their students are constantly

going into practice on their own account; they will require well-known

and trusted consultants and operators to assist them in difficult cases

occurring in well-to-do and affluent families; they will introduce them

in this way to lucrative practice, ever increasing if they are skilful

men. Every one of their students, therefore, becomes an agent for their

success. Even the patients who have received benefit will often be able

to recommend to richer relatives or friends, masters or mistresses—as

in the case of workpeople or servants—the doctor who has helped them

to a cure. It is in this way the great practices of the greatest men

attached to the hospitals have all been founded and maintained. That

they should devote themselves to the interests of their pupils is,

then, of the first importance, as, in a few years, the kindnesses shown

to them will be coming back in a steady flow of guineas.

At the close of the second winter session, the men are expected to be

ready for the first professional examination at the College of

Surgeons, in anatomy and physiology. It is the desire of both teachers

and the hospital itself, that as large a proportion as possible of the

students shall present themselves for examination at the regular time,

as the credit of the school depends on the proportion of passes. Every

effort is made to urge the men on, and the teaching staff take the

utmost pains to perfect the knowledge of their pupils, and thoroughly

instruct them in the subjects they will be required to know. They hold

test examinations, and send the men up in batches; those of most

promise go up first, while the backward ones are detained till the last

efforts have been put forth to fit them for the day of trial. Elsworth

was sent up in the first batch, and passed creditably. Having thus

proved that he had a sufficient knowledge of the rudiments of his work,

he was at once permitted to act as a dresser or surgeon’s assistant in

the wards of the hospital proper. This is the first bit of promotion

which the successful student obtains. The nurses could do pretty well

all the work he has to do, as far as the dressing goes; but this is

purposely left to him, that he may pick up instruction and experience.

St. Bernard's: The Romance of a Medical Student · 第 8 / 44 章