HEART BEAT:Collection of medical textbooks are a part of my life, writes MAURICE NELIGAN
I HAVE had two domestic failures in the past few days. I am no longer allowed dry glasses. Apparently, were I to replace these in the press while even slightly damp, the moisture would rot the wood and the press would fall from the wall with disastrous consequences, particularly for me. Similarly, I drew censure for a perceived inability to shut the fridge door properly. This would lead to all sorts of undesirable insects gaining access, the food would be contaminated, rats and mice would appear and possibly sabre-toothed tigers. Why is it that men fail to realise these simple realities?
The other evening I was performing a task at which I am still qualified. I was to open a bottle of wine but the corkscrew was located in an area in which the HA was involved in some creative cooking. I was summarily banished lest I disturb her concentration. The retrieval of the corkscrew would have taken 30 seconds, but such little interruptions are intolerable to the true artiste. I suppose Leonardo da Vinci wouldn’t have liked anybody blundering around his studio while he was creating a masterpiece either.
Now, on this beautiful June day, I am sitting in the room which the HA refers to as “my study”. Sotto voce, I call it the study. The purpose of my incarceration is put some order on the books and remove any deemed surplus to requirements. This is easier said than done. I can always find reasons to keep books. True that some of my reasons cut no ice with herself, but I can be dangerous when cornered.
The targets of the proposed cull were to be old medical textbooks. I think I'd sooner cut off my arm than get rid of my old friends. They are footsteps in my medical life from medical student to present time. I take down Textbook of British Surgery(1957), in four volumes. I open volume 2 at the "Surgery of the Central Nervous System" and come across the poem by physician-poet Oliver Wendell Holmes describing the brain:
“Then mark the cloven sphere that holds
All thought in its mysterious folds
That feels sensation’s faintest thrill
And flashes forth the sovereign will;
Think on the stormy world that dwells
Locked in its dim and clustering cells!
The lightning gleam of power it sheds
Along its slender glossy threads!”
I spent several happy hours leafing through the volumes which clearly are not relevant 50 years later, but I'm keeping them. I pick up Synopsis of Obstetrics and Gynaecology(1959) by Alex Bourne. This book belonged to the HA and has an automatic preservation order. I note that symphysiotomy as a procedure, is described with few negative connotations. It states: "Locomotion is seldom interfered with".
Next I select Cecil's large Textbook of Medicine, 2,500 pages, and from the next shelf the much smaller Principles and Practice of Medicineby Davidson, the bible of generations of final year medical students. There are books on public health, orthopaedics, pathology, physiology and just about every medical topic studied at some stage. There is a veritable mini-library covering cardiology and cardiac surgery, my own special subjects.
Many of the books are heavily annotated as I was a great scribbler in my time. Pages and chapters are marked as read and revised, charting the approach to examinations. The memories conjured up were legion, remembering exciting times when the life and the learning were new. Remembering those who shared the studies with you and have now passed on to illness-free climes.
In short, they’re part of my life and they stay right where they are, although I might rearrange them some rainy day. The whole afternoon passed renewing acquaintance with just a few of them.
I did find a couple of books that could be sacrificed. One was Gardening All Year Roundand another was Greenhouse Gardening. I might point out that our greenhouse was demolished by our St Bernard dog many years ago. The HA vetoed their removal and a most pleasant day ended with the preservation of the status quo.
Irvine Welsh, irreverent Scottish writer of Trainspotters, put it succinctly, "There's f*** all to say about my books other than what's written in them." He might have added, "And the memories they contain."
mneligan@irishtimes.com