Putting human bodies on show
develop properly and waste doesn’t move along; it just accumulates. The man died in 1892. The condition now is easily treated, relieving one aspect of human suffering via the advance of medicine, which is something physician Thomas Dent Mütter was all about.
This museum “honours several pioneer doctors from the 19th century”, devoted to the college’s mission to “advance the science of medicine and to thereby lessen human misery”, Mütter curator Anna Dhody says via email. “Obviously none more so than our namesake Dr Mütter.”
One medical model on display was brought to the United States by Mütter in 1831, when he returned from studying medicine in Paris. The model is of Madame Dimanche – a woman who had a horn growing out of her forehead, curving to just below her chin. It was eventually removed by surgeons. In her book Dr Mütter’s Marvels: A True Tale of Intrigue and Innovation at the Dawn of Modern Medicine, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz writes that in this model, Mütter “saw his future”.
Indeed, he would become a pioneer in plastic surgery.
In our culture, it is characterised by buoyant breasts and overinflated lips. In Mütter’s time, it was revolutionary – and far less elective. A popular teacher and exemplary surgeon at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia, he became well-known for his work on burn victims and those with conditions such as a club foot or cleft palate. He invented a surgical technique called the Mütter flap – variations are still in use today – and was the first surgeon in Philadelphia to use ether anesthesia in the mid-19th century, which invites us to imagine what surgery was like without it.
Aptowicz’s beautifully written book describes how Mütter advocated for things that we now take for granted, such as aftercare and cleanliness, and about his gentle empathy with his patients. He bequeathed his medical collection to the college and donated $30,000 (more than $800,000 today), which made the museum possible. One stipulation of his bequest was the collection’s ongoing use “for educational and scientific purposes through our Center for Education, and the Mütter Research Institute”, Dhody says.
The crowd today would make him very happy. You can’t avoid learning something here – even something as simple as respect for your healthy colon.
I can’t help but wonder, though, whence comes the desire of so many of us to seek out oddities, to gaze at a skeleton of fetal conjoined twins or genital warts strung like a necklace.
Oriana Aragón, a psychologist and assistant professor in the marketing department of the College of Business at Clemson University, suspects that there is a trifecta of reasons that make some become moths to the Mütter’s flame.
First, there’s “evocative emotion”, a bit of an adrenaline rush from the shock of seeing the amazing things our bodies are capable of and seeing it in person, not on a screen, so we can fully believe it.
“They’re seeking the feels” of awe and intrigue, she says.
Second is access. Anything we learn about our bodies can contribute to our survival.
“We’re not doctors; we don’t get access into this world,” she says. Bonus: The museum environment gives us permission to be curious. You can’t just stare at a co-worker’s neck and say, “Is that a rash?” Here, you’re free to indulge your interest.
Finally, Aragón says, “when you consider someone else’s experience relative to your own, you’re mapping their experience onto your experience”. You’re empathising, wondering how, for example, you would go through your day if you were conjoined with a sibling.