THE HISTORY OF ANAESTHETICS

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 10, Issue 95, 17 February 1947, Page 2

THE HISTORY OF ANAESTHETICS

London is holding an exhibition to celebrate the centenary of anaesthesia. A description of it by Joy Parker was recently heard by listeners to the 8.8. C. programme “Radio Trek.” The ancients had some quaint ideas on the subject and firmly believed in a herbal narcotic known as mandrake, a peculiar root which had the appearance of a human being and uttered a piercing shriek when it was uprooted. Whoever uprooted it was apt to fall dead, so they had to resort to all sorts of ingenious devices to get hold of it.

In more recent times, wounded sailors at Trafalgar were given a lot of rum. The use of the ether spray for local anaesthesia was conceived by chance when a playful young lady at a dance sprayed eau-de-Colcgne on the heated forehead of her partner. The partner happened to be Sir Benjamin Richardson, who had spent all that day in his labora-

ory engaged in scientific research,

The year was 1897. It is quite clear that his mind was still on his work rather than on the charms of

the young lady with the scent spray; for he wrote of the episode: “The cold produced by the eau-de-Cologne was intensive and, pinching the bit of skin affected, I found that it was benumbed. ‘Thank you,’ I said, and seized upon the fact.” Next day he contrived the ether spray which anaesthetised by freezing.

Cocaine was used next, then spinal anaesthesia and many other forms of local anaesthetic.

And now—in 1946—the scientists are on the brink of developing yet another form of anaesthetic, a derivation of the primitive South American Indian arrow poison known as Curare. This treebark poison prevents impulses from the motor nerves to the muscles, thus securing complete muscular relaxation. Too complete, at times, as Dr. Prescott, of the Wellcome Research Institute, found to his cost only a few months ago when he was using himself as a human guinea-pig in experiments with Curare. His heart ceased to beat, and only prolonged artificial respiration saved his life.

One exhibit which made a deep impression on many was a huge copper bell dated 1791. It was known as the Operation Bell, and every hospital had such a bell, which was clanged before operations to summon the strong-armed men to come and hold down the patient. Thanks to the mercy of anaesthesia the old operation bell is now happily out of a job.