as though pregnant for six before the incision - Now you who're born can marvel at this lustre - those eyes or buds -but its bulk, its Of course, I was awake concealed, I again bind |
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| This poem, called Janet, is written to accompany a plate from John Lizars’ Observations on Extraction of Diseased Ovaria, which was published in 1825. This plate shows an actual tumour, and Lizars was one of the first surgeons to attempt removal of tumours like these. I wrote the poem after reading the case notes which accompany the illustrations. They are hair-raising, but also heroic in their way and they give us a glimpse of the real people involved. In this poem, all the phrases in italics are taken verbatim from the case notes. We know this patient was called Janet, that she was so much in pain and misery with this ghastly tumour that she ‘implored’ the doctors to try to remove it. Bear in mind that this was before anaethesia. She survived the operation, and subsequent infection, and was back at her humble job, that of shoe-binder, a few months later. Poor Janet, she is one of the many, many unsung heroines of medical advances. The poem gave me the chance to acknowledge her. It’s spoken as if by Janet herself, but I was interested also in the tumour as an object, a sculpture almost, its strange otherworldly shape, the rather lovely colours it was etched in. I’m impressed by the surgeon-artist’s ability both to treat their patients with compassion, and also to look so hard and dispassionately at what they find within us. |
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Kathleen Jamie |
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