Eyewitness: Major surgery without an anaesthetic, 1811
(www.mytimemachine.co.uk/operation.htm)
The invention of modern anaesthesia has taken so much of the terror out of surgery that an account such as that left by Fanny Burney (also known by her married name of Madame d'Arblay) is difficult to take in. Burney was diagnosed with breast cancer in August 1810, and operated on in France by Baron Larrey, Napoleon's surgeon. To spare her the suspense, she was given very little notice of the operation. “M. d'A.” in this account is her husband, Alexandre, and Alexander is her son.
...It was transparent, however, & I saw, through it, that the Bedstead was instantly surrounded by the 7 men & my nurse. I refused to be held; but when, Bright through the cambric, I saw the glitter of polished Steel - I closed my Eyes. I would not trust to convulsive fear the sight of the terrible incision. A silence the most profound ensued, which lasted for some minutes, during which, I imagine, they took their orders by signs, & made their examination - Oh what a horrible suspension! - I did not breathe - & M. Dubois tried vainly to find any pulse. This pause, at length, was broken by Dr Larry, who, in a voice of solemn melancholy, said 'Qui me tiendra ce sein? (“Who will hold the centre?”) - ' No one answered; at least not verbally; but this aroused me from my passively submissive state, for I feared they imagined the whole breast infected - feared it too justly, - for, again through the Cambric, I saw the hand of M. Dubois held up, while his forefinger first described a straight line from top to bottom of the breast, secondly a Cross, & thirdly a Circle; intimating that the WHOLE was to be taken off.
Excited by this idea, I started up, threw off my veil, &, in answer to the demand 'Qui me tiendra ce sein? ' cried 'C'est moi, Monsieur! ' & I held my hand under it, & explained the nature of my sufferings, which all sprang from one point, though they darted into every part. I was heard attentively, but in utter silence, & M. Dubois then replaced me as before, &, as before, spread my veil over my face. How vain, alas, my representation! immediately again I saw the fatal finger describe the Cross - & the circle - Hopeless, then, desperate, & self-given up, I closed once more my Eyes, relinquishing all watching, all resistance, all interference, & sadly resolute to be wholly resigned.
My dearest Esther, -
