Can you help us catch some Spanish Influenza history?

On  11th November 1918, the day that church bells were rung across the nation in celebration of the end of War, countless families were nursing their relatives or mourning the loss of those close to them, having caught the dreaded Spanish ‘flu.        No-one was safe from the Influenza Pandemic. It reared its head in the Spring of 1918, with outbreaks coming in waves. It swept the globe claiming around 25 million lives in under 12 months - more people than were killed fighting in the War.

In the closing months of War, Private John Sydney Cull of Badsey, near Evesham, was serving in the Worcester Yeomanry in Mesopotamia. He had written a letter to his family on 9th October informing them of fatal incidences of the ‘flu in his battalion – fortunately, he told them, he was in the best of health. On 11th November his family should have been celebrating news of his homecoming, but instead they received a letter notifying them of his death – from Spanish ‘Flu. He died aged 27.

While media attention and history books have focused on the victorious end to the War, the tragedy of the Spanish ‘Flu has been wiped from our collective memory. The George Marshall Medical Museum is hosting a touring exhibition of the Florence Nightingale Museum's Influenza Pandemic Exhibition during 2019. Laura Mainwaring, our British Society for the History of Science Engagement Fellow, is working to add local content to the exhibition to inform and engage the local community on one of the deadliest pandemics in human history.

Have any stories been passed down to you about relatives that were affected by the ‘flu pandemic of 1918/1919? We are looking for diaries, letters, recipe books, or anecdotes from relatives, focusing on the Worcestershire area.

It would be great to hear your story. Email lm357@le.ac.uk or tel. 01905 760738.

First Week Adventures

Hello! My name is Savannah McMullen. I'm from Washington, DC. I recently began my two-month work placement at Worcester’s Medical Museums as part of my Masters in Museum Studies at the University of Leicester. Here are my thoughts after my first week:

I have been thoroughly enjoying becoming rapidly acquainted with a new educational system, an unfamiliar theme of history, and an age group of students that I have no experience with. I have minimal background knowledge in the various levels of UK educational qualifications, or in medical history, so I have been reading for general knowledge (and quickly googling everything else). Teaching teens… you can only learn by jumping in the deep end headfirst. Wish me luck! It is a challenge trying to catch up, but it is incredibly exciting. These challenges are the reason I chose this placement. I also wanted to work at a small museum because of the diversity of experience you get when working with a small team. But in a museum like this, you also learn a lot from experiences that you did not anticipate having when you first applied for a placement here. Already, in my first week, I gave a spontaneous tour of the Infirmary to two visually-impaired visitors; guided a group of teenagers through the gallery at the GMMM and discussed with them the ethics of testing the first vaccine on a child; mastered a 3D body replica puzzle; and assisted in a workshop in which I played the role of Dr. Robert Liston, a surgeon famous for his speedy amputations before the advent of anaesthetics.  I cannot wait to see what the next few weeks here have in store for me.

I am already so thankful to Mark and Louise for being so willing and eager for me to get involved in whatever aspect of their work sparks my interest. I hope to assist them in planning, marketing, and executing the museums’ special events, in addition to my planned contributions to the museums’ educational offerings. They have encouraged me to ask whatever questions I want and trusted me, and my skills, enough to give me important responsibilities and leadership opportunities. We have also become fast friends—much appreciated, since I moved to Worcester sight unseen and knowing no one! I felt welcomed and appreciated immediately.

P.S.—Mark said I had to have had a negative experience last week, so I’ll just say that I desperately wish the Infirmary was air-conditioned.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NHS 5 July 1947 The Appointed Day

The Appointed Day

The Beginnings of the National Health Service in Worcestershire

A short history of how the National Health Service affected the Worcester Royal Infirmary Anastasia Maria Ciccocioppo an ERASMUS+ student of University of Bologna who spent the 2017 summer with The Infirmary and George Marshall Medical Museum on research projects.

Final meeting of Worcester Royal Infirmary General Committee, December 1948 in Berrows Journal. ©Charles Hastings Education Centre

It is common today when talking about health to think of the services available to us being obvious and guaranteed. But, as you can imagine, these modern-day expectations of healthcare were not clearly conceptualized at the time a national service was being contemplated.

When did things change? How did they change and why?  The “appointed day” or the day that would change the way medical care was organized in the United Kingdom was to be 5th July 1948, and next summer Worcester’s Medical Museums will be celebrating the 70th anniversary of the NHS foundation.

Looking  back to November, 1946, the war has just ended, hospitals are sending home the last wounded from abroad and Minister Aneurin Bevan is ready to issue the National Health Service Act. 

The plans of the Minister in his political battle for a suitable and efficient health system called for one solution only:  a universal and simplified access to primary healthcare.

Analysis of expenditure, 1950-51 in South Worcestershire region. ©Charles Hastings Education Centre

When in his book, “The Birth of Clinic", the social theorist, Michel Foucault said that “The first task of the doctor is ... political:  the struggle against disease must begin with a war against bad government.” he might have been thinking of a situation such as the one in Britain, post war.

Many doctors initially disagreed with the idea of a NHS and openly beseeched the minister to take a step back when a choice still seemed a possibility, and overstated their case that “some doctors appear unable to recognize the danger resulting from this loss of liberty...”

The sentiment in Worcestershire did not differ from the one of fear felt nationally and this was especially evident when, in regard to a circular announcing the passage of the Infirmary’s administration to the Regional Hospital Board in Birmingham, it was unanimously moved by the last Management Committee that the circular lie on the table, as a sign of protest!

This scene, that at first might appear amusing, powerfully demonstrates the sentiment of disagreement present at the time.

From 5th July 1948, the newborn South Worcestershire Hospital Management Committee, appointed by the Regional Board, would have had as its headquarters at the Royal Infirmary, becoming responsible for a large group of hospitals. Figure 2 shows analysis of expenditure 1950-51 in region’s hospitals under the Committee’s control.

Allocation of beds according to specialty, 1950 & 1951. ©Charles Hastings Education Centre

The apprehension felt by the Management Committee in Worcestershire is understandable; they became the nerve centre for healthcare, taking control of over 2000 beds in the County and more than 1000 of them for mentally ill patients.

Anastasia Maria Ciccocioppo

Autopsy kit on Temporary display at The Infirmary

Over the last four months I have been preparing a display, featuring an autopsy kit, at The Infirmary for my work placement at the University of Worcester.  The kit is currently on loan from the George Marshal Medical Museum. I estimate the kit was in use from the late 19th century.  Professional autopsies became more widely practiced after the 1832 Anatomy Act, which lessened the restrictions on the supply of bodies to dissect. This was indicated from the simplistic design of the tools, as well as the box. The mahogany box with brass buckles, was the fashion from the 19th to early 20th centuries.  ‘J. Hague London’ was inscribed on most of the items, but I have not found any records so far as to indicate who this manufacturer was.

Hook showing the manufacturer 'J Hague. London'

On my first day I was taken into the room where items were stored and shown how to safely handle objects, especially these with blades  This was a completely new and exciting experience, so I was shown the procedures used in storing and keeping track of items.  To find out about the autopsy kit, I went to the George Marshal Medical Museum at the Worcestershire Royal Hospital to look through catalogues of medical equipment.  One catalogue dated back to 1844, so I had to place them on large pillows to support the spines.  The catalogues helped me narrow a point to when the kit is likely to have been in use and the names for the various instruments.  When I was putting up the display the biggest challenge was deciding how to arrange each of the pieces. I wanted to make sure everything was easy to see, but also to use the space evenly, to allow visitors a professional standard of quality.

Mahogany Box with Autopsy Kit 

I look forward to receiving feedback on the display.  Feel free to get in contact with The Infirmary to let us know what you think.  It would also be great if you know of any interesting facts about autopsies in the past or maybe something relating to this kit itself.

Stefan Simpson-Soye, Joint Honours History And Joint Politics: People & Power