JOSEPH O'DWYER, THE INVENTOR OF INTUBATION.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century a young medical practitioner, working faithfully in the wards of his hospital in Paris, pitying especially the patients who suffered from pulmonary disease, and realizing how hopeless was their treatment, since medical science knew so little of the real nature of the ailment from which they suffered, invented the stethoscope and established the principles on which modern physical diagnosis is based in a method so complete that after the lapse of three-quarters of a century very little has been added to what was then discovered. This genius was the famed Laennec, of whom we have written in a preceding chapter, who was wont to spend his days walking the wards of the Necker Hospital in Paris, caring more for his poor patients than for the nobility and members of the wealthy classes, who willingly would have taken advantage of his clinical knowledge so conscientiously gained. Laennec made possible progress in medicine that places him among the five or six greatest medical men of all times.
At the end of the nineteenth century a man of about Laennec's age was touched with pity for the sufferings of the poor children whom he saw dying from suffocation because of the ravages of laryngeal diphtheria. Nothing could be done for them except, perhaps, to benumb their senses by means of narcotics, while nurse and medical man stood idly by suffering excruciatingly themselves while their little patients bore all the lingering, awful pains of death by asphyxiation. [{326}] For years Joseph O'Dwyer labored at the problem of relieving these little patients, and finally achieved similar success to Laennec with his stethoscope. The modern doctor, moreover, was quite as patient in his work of research as Laennec, and though his discovery had not so wide an application as the latter's it was accomplished through the same tireless, persevering labor, and through the same instinct of genius that finally led to the culminating invention which no one has been able to improve, and which has made its inventor's name a familiar word to medical men over the world. American medicine has no more shining light than the name of Joseph O'Dwyer, and the record of his simple, sincere, straightforward life, faithful during his successful career to the simple religious principles imbibed in the bosom of an old-fashioned Catholic family, who, during a long career, thought little of self and mainly of the possibilities for good presented by his profession, cannot but prove one of the standard biographies in this country's medical history.
Dr. Joseph O'Dwyer, the inventor of intubation, was born in 1841, in Cleveland, Ohio. Shortly after his birth his parents, who were only moderately well to do, moved to Canada, so that O'Dwyer's boyhood was passed not far from London, Ontario. There he received his early education, and there also, as was the custom in those days, he began his medical studies by becoming a student in the office of a Dr. Anderson. After two years of apprenticeship, he came to New York and attended lectures in the New York College of Physicians and Surgeons, where he was graduated in 1866, at the age of twenty-five. Immediately after graduation he obtained the first place in the competitive examination for resident physician and sanitary superintendent of the Charity or City Hospital of New York City, on Blackwell's Island. Shortly after his appointment [{327}] an epidemic of cholera broke out in the workhouse (under his charge), and Dr. O'Dwyer nobly devoted himself to the care of the patients. While engaged in this work he contracted the disease himself, but fortunately recovered completely without suffering from any of its usual after-effects.
When, not long subsequently, another epidemic of cholera occurred in New York, and a number of cases of the disease were transferred to Hart's Island and there quarantined, volunteers for their medical attendance were asked from among the members of the medical staff of the Charity Hospital. Dr. O'Dwyer was one of the first to come forward and offer his services. Again he contracted the disease, but recovered from it as completely as from typhus. Years afterward he described to a friend his feelings as he lay in one of the hospital tents, the only accommodation that could be provided for him owing to the crowded condition of the wards. His attack was rather severe and yet left him his consciousness, while as he lay expecting death at almost any moment, the thought (as he was wont to relate) sometimes came to him that it was perhaps foolish of him to have volunteered in so dangerous a service. This thought was always put away, however, and he assured his friend that at no time had he ever regretted his exposure to the disease in the cause of suffering humanity. The risks that usually come with professional obligations (it appeared to him) are not to be avoided at the cost of the consciousness of a duty refused.
During his service at the Charity Hospital, Dr. O'Dwyer endeared himself to all those with whom he came in contact. In examination for the position of resident on the Island he had passed first, and during his service there it was generally conceded that he towered above his companions in his efficiency and attention to duty. Some of [{328}] those who were residents with him afterward made names that are distinguished in the history of the practice of medicine in New York City, yet all of them were ever ready to acknowledge that O'Dwyer had been a leader among them in the service. With a very practical turn of mind, he united the capacity for patient work that enabled him to master difficulties, while his devotion to his profession gave him a deep interest in every department of medicine. The foundation of his future success as a practitioner of medicine was laid in these fruitful years of hard work among the poor charity patients of New York City, for whose welfare, as is evident from what we have said, he was ready to make any sacrifice.
After about two years of service on Blackwell's Island, Dr. O'Dwyer, who had attracted no little attention by his faithful fulfilment of duty, was appointed examiner of patients--applicants for admission to the hospitals under the control of the City Board of Charities and Correction. He therefore resigned his position on the Island, and in partnership with Dr. Warren Schoonover opened an office on Second Avenue, between Fifty-seventh and Fifty-eighth Streets. With his colleague, he devoted himself especially to obstetrical practice, in which he had great success, delivering in one year, it is said, over three thousand patients.
In 1872 Dr. O'Dwyer was appointed to the staff of the New York Foundling Asylum, in connection with which his real life-work was to be accomplished. While there Doctors Reynolds and J. Lewis Smith were his colleagues, and all three of them have added no little distinction to American medicine by the careful observations made at that asylum.
At this time one of the most fearful scourges that could afflict a foundling asylum or children's hospital was an epidemic of diphtheria. Those who pretend not to believe [{329}] in the efficacy of the antitoxin treatment of diphtheria should listen to the account given by some of the Sisters, who for long years were in service in the New York Foundling Asylum, of the fear that came over them when it was announced that diphtheria had entered the wards in their charge. It was always certain beyond doubt that this disease would spread very extensively, and, in spite of all precautions and the enforcement of whatever quarantine was possible, the mortality rate would be very high. Usually forty or fifty per cent, of those who were attacked by diphtheria would perish from the disease, nor was it easy to foresee the end of any epidemic.
In not a few cases death took place from that most excruciating of all fatal terminations--asphyxia. The false membrane, characteristic of diphtheria, would form, in a certain proportion of cases, in the larynx and upper part of the trachea of the little patient, the inflammatory swelling that accompanied it further decreasing the naturally small lumen of the child's undeveloped air passages. Gradually dyspnoea would set in, the dreaded croup begin to be heard, and difficulty of breathing developed at times to such a degree that the little one would use every effort to secure breath, the aeration of the blood growing less and less, and cyanosis--that is, an intense blueness of the face and hands--becoming evident, till finally the child died slowly in all the agonies of asphyxiation, while doctor and nurse stood sadly by, absolutely powerless to do anything to relieve the heart-rending symptoms.
About the middle of the nineteenth century tracheotomy--that is, the surgical opening of the trachea, or wind-pipe, below the larynx, for the purpose of admitting air to the lungs through such artificial opening--had been introduced by Trousseau, of Paris. In many cases this afforded relief; [{330}] at least the little patients did not die the awful death by asphyxiation, though not many recovered from the diphtheria or the results of the operation. O'Dwyer himself, when asked what had led him to think of intubating the larynx, said that he had been aroused to experimentation in this direction by the complete failure of tracheotomy during the years from 1873 to 1880 at the New York Foundling Asylum.
In 1880, Dr. O'Dwyer began to devise some method of providing a channel for the passage of air and secretions through the larynx. He knew that tracheotomy, as a serious, bloody operation, always is put off until the condition of the patient is quite alarming, if not hopeless, and that some device for holding the larynx open, if not too difficult of application, would surely prove life-saving in a great many cases. His first thought was that the introduction of a wire spring within the larynx might serve to hold the inflamed sides apart. He realized, however, that the edema and false membrane would force their way around the wires, and so gradually occlude the throat passage in spite of the presence of the spring.
His next thought was a small bivalve speculum, that is to say, two portions of tubes cut longitudinally and fastened together in such a way that the ends could be forced apart. Such instruments are used very commonly for the examination of various cavities in the human body. The laryngeal spring, or speculum, was more successful than the wire, but it had one of the faults of the wire spring. Into the slit between the two portions of the speculum the inflamed mucous membrane was apt to force itself, so that before long difficulty of breathing would recur. Besides, if the spring which kept the blades of the speculum apart were weak, the instrument would fail of its purpose in [{331}] keeping the mucous membrane apart, while, if it were strong, the pressure of the blades would cause ulceration.
Notwithstanding its faults, however, the bivalve laryngeal speculum accomplished somewhat of the purpose intended. In one case it kept a child alive until the dangerous period of the disease was passed, and thus was the means of saving the first little patient suffering from membranous croup in the thirteen years that the Foundling Asylum had been in existence. Dr. O'Dwyer continued to experiment with the speculum for some time, but finally gave it up and began to study the detailed anatomy of the human larynx. These studies included not only the normal larynx, but also its conditions under the influence of various pathological lesions. Finally (as one of Dr. O'Dwyer's assistants at that time says), he appeared one day in the autopsy-room with a tube. This tube was a little longer than the speculum that before had been in use. It was somewhat flattened laterally, and had a collar at its upper end. This tube was very soon to prove of practical value.
In the first case in which it was employed it was a failure, inasmuch as the patient died from the progress of the diphtheria, though the notes of the case show that after the introduction of the tube the dyspnoea was relieved and the child breathed with comparative ease for the sixteen hours that elapsed before death took place. To any one who knows the harrowing agony of death from asphyxiation, and who appreciates the fact that this form of death was now to be definitely done away with, the triumph of this first introduction of the tube will be at once clear. Dr. O'Dwyer himself was very much encouraged. The relief afforded the patient was for him a great personal satisfaction, since one of the severest trials to his sensitive nature in the midst of his professional work had always [{332}] been to have to stand helplessly by while these little patients suffered.
The fact that this tube had been retained for sixteen hours demonstrated definitely that the larynx would tolerate a foreign body of this kind without any of the severe spasmodic reflexes that might ordinarily be expected under such circumstances, while the fact that the tube had not been coughed up showed definitely that the inventor was working along the proper lines for the solution of his life-problem. The second case in which the tube was employed resulted in recovery, and Dr. O'Dwyer's more than a dozen years of labor and thought were rewarded by not only relief of symptoms, but the complete recovery of the patient without any serious complications and without any annoying sequelae.
As the first case (alluded to above) is now a landmark in the history of medicine, the details relating to it seem worth giving. The little patient was a girl of about four years of age, who on the fifth or sixth day of a severe laryngeal diphtheria developed symptoms of laryngeal stenosis, with great dyspnoea. Hitherto the only hope would have been tracheotomy, but Dr. O'Dwyer introduced one of his tubes. The little patient was very much frightened and, as might be expected, in an intensely irritable condition because of the difficulty of breathing. She absolutely refused to permit any manipulations, and it was only with great difficulty that he finally succeeded in introducing the tube. After its introduction the little one shut her teeth tightly upon the metallic shield which the doctor wore on his finger for his protection, and he was absolutely unable to withdraw it from her mouth. It was only after chloroform had been given to her to the extent of partial anesthesia, with consequent relaxation of muscles, that he succeeded in freeing himself.
This proved to Dr. O'Dwyer the need of another [{333}] instrument (to be employed in the introduction of tubes)--an apparatus by which the mouth could be kept widely open so as to allow of manipulation without undue interference by the patient. For this purpose he contrived the mouth-gag--a very useful little instrument that has been found of service in many other surgical procedures about the mouth besides intubation.
His first tubes, however, were not without serious defects. For instance, in order to permit of the extraction of the tube afterward, there was a small slit in the side of the tube, into which the extractor hooked. Into this slit the swollen and edematous mucous membrane was apt to force its way, and (as can readily be understood) in the removal of the tube considerable laceration in the tissues usually was inflicted. Accordingly the tubes subsequently made were without this slit. Moreover, the first tubes that were employed were not quite long enough, a defect which led to their being rather frequently coughed up. This inconvenience was not wholly obviated even by the lengthening of them.
O'Dwyer continued his studies, and finally hit upon the idea of putting a second shoulder on the tubes. This, it was hoped, would fit below the vocal cords, and with the cords in between the two shoulders the tubes would surely be retained. This improved tube was actually retained, but the drawback to its adoption (as shown in practice) proved to be that it was retained too tightly. When the time for its removal came it was almost impossible to get it out. It was evident then that some other model of tube would have to be constructed in order to make the process of intubation entirely practical, and thus do away with certain dangers.
One of O'Dwyer's assistants at this time at the Foundling Asylum tells of the amount of time the doctor gave to the [{334}] study of the problem involved in these difficulties and of his ultimate success therein. Putty was moulded in various ways on tubes, which were inserted in specimen larynxes, and plaster casts were taken, with the idea of determining just the form of tube which would so exactly fit the average normal larynx as to be retained without undue pressure, yet at the same time keep the false membrane from occluding the respiratory passages and furnish as much breathing space as possible. Finally Dr. O'Dwyer decided that the best form of tube for all purposes would be one with a collar, or sort of flaring lip at the top, which was to rest on the vocal cord, with, moreover, a spindle-shaped enlargement of the middle portion of the tube, which lay below the vocal cords, fitting more or less closely to the shape of the trachea. To avoid the pressure and ulceration at the base of the epiglottis--a very sensitive and tender portion of the laryngeal tissues--a backward curve was given to the upper portion of the tube. On the other hand, the lower end, which rests within the cricoid ring and which was likely to be forced against the mucous membrane of the trachea occasionally, was somewhat thickened to avoid the friction and leverage that might be exerted if there were any free-play allowed. At the same time the lower end of the tube was thoroughly rounded off.
Thus Dr. O'Dwyer, realizing all the difficulties of this new method of treatment, solved them, as experience proved that the tubes could be made of still smaller calibre than had been hitherto supposed and yet be efficient in relieving respiratory dyspnoea. Experience also proved that the metal tubes at first used had a number of serious disadvantages. They were heavier than those which could be made of hard rubber in the same size and shape, while the metal tubes besides had a tendency to encourage the deposition and [{335}] incrustation on their surfaces of calcium salts. These incrustations, roughening the surface of the tube, increased its tendency to produce pressure ulceration, as well as added to the difficulty of its removal, and consequently to the liability of producing laceration of tissues after convalescence had been established. Accordingly tubes were made of hard rubber, which could be allowed to remain in the larynx almost for an indefinite period without any inconvenience. While at first intubation was looked upon as a merely temporary expedient, clinical experience showed that sometimes in neurotic patients it was necessary to let the tube remain in the throat for several weeks or even months.
Dr. O'Dwyer's originality in the invention of intubation has sometimes been doubted. The idea of some such instrumental procedure as he finally perfected seems to have occurred to practitioners of medicine a number of times in medical history. No one reduced the idea to practice in any successful degree. O'Dwyer's invention was not some chance hit of good fortune in lighting on a brilliant idea, but the result of years of patient investigation and shaping of means to ends. Often failure seemed inevitable, but he continued to experiment until he forced the hand of the goddess of invention to be favorable to him. The history of intubation is interesting mainly because it brings out clearly O'Dwyer's success where others had failed.
The evolution of intubation forms, moreover, a very interesting chapter in the story of medicine. It is curious to learn that the Greeks of the classical period, and very probably for a long time before, knew something of the possibility of putting a tube into the larynx in cases of stenoses or contractions which threatened to prevent breathing. It is clear that they thus secured patency of the air-passages after these had become occluded. Hippocrates mentions [{336}] canalization of the air-passages, and suggests that in inflammatory croup with difficulty of respiration, canulas should be carried into the throat along the jaws so that air could be drawn into the lungs. This is probably diphtheria, the first mention of the disease in medical literature, though it is usually said to have been first described in Spain at the beginning of the nineteenth century. There is evidence, too, in Greek medical history that these directions were followed by many practising physicians of those early times. Considering that intubation of the larynx is usually thought to be a very modern treatment, this tradition in Greek medical history serves to show how transitory may be the effect of real progress in applied science. After a time the Asclepiades, and some centuries later Paulinus of AEginetus, rejected the teaching of Hippocrates in this matter, while the latter suggested even the employment of bronchotomy.
After this episodic existence among the Greeks, there is no mention of anything like intubation of the larynx until about the beginning of the nineteenth century. In 1801, Desault, a French surgeon, while attempting to feed a patient suffering with a stricture of the oesophagus through a tube passed down the throat, inadvertently allowed the tube to pass into the larynx. This brought on a severe fit of coughing, but after a time the tube was tolerated and an attempt was made to feed the patient through it, with the production (as can be readily imagined) of a very severe spasmodic laryngeal attack. Desault realized the probable position of the tube then, and, taking a practical hint from this accident, suggested that possibly tubes could be passed down into the lungs even through a spasmodically contracted or infiltrated larynx, with the consequent assurance of free ingress of air. As these cases were otherwise extremely [{337}] hopeless, it was not long before he found the opportunity to put his hypothesis to the test, and in some half a dozen cases he succeeded in lengthening patient's lives and making them more comfortable for some hours at least.
Desault's suggestion was followed by similarly directed experiments on the part of Chaussier, Ducasse and Patissier. All these came during the first quarter of the century in France, while, in 1813, Finaz of Seyssel, a student of the University of Paris, in writing his graduation thesis for the faculty of medicine, suggested the use of a gum-elastic tube that should be passed down into the larynx in order to allow the passage of air in spasmodic and other obstructive conditions. In 1820, Patissier suggested that some such remedy as this should be employed for edema of the glottis. This affection, which is apt to be rapidly fatal, is a closing of the chink of the glottis, or rima glottidis, as it is called, which occurs very rapidly as the result of inflammatory conditions, especially in patients who are suffering from some kidney affection.
There was no doubt in the mind of practitioners generally of the necessity in many cases for some such expedient as the intubation of the larynx, but there was a very generally accepted notion that the mucous membrane of the larynx was entirely too sensitive to permit of a tube remaining for any considerable length of time in contact with the vocal cords and the very sensitive mucous membrane of the epiglottis. Meantime many precious lives were lost. Our own Washington was a sufferer, perhaps, from inflammatory edema of the larynx, complicated by a kidney trouble, though this was thirty years before Bright's work, and (as a matter of course) we have no definite data in the matter; or, as seems not unlikely, he suffered from a severe attack of laryngeal diphtheria, and, after hours of intense dyspnoea, [{338}] suffocated while his physicians stood hopelessly by, unable to do anything for him.
There are many other names in the history of attempts at intubation during the first half of the century, two of the most important of which are Liston and John Watson, who, as the result of chance observations in cases in which feeding-tubes were inadvertently passed into the larynx, came to the thought that the larynx might tolerate a tube much better than had been previously imagined. About the middle of the nineteenth century there was no little discussion with regard to the possibility of applying remedies within the larynx after the insertion of a tube, and a large number of medical articles appeared thereon. Diefenbach, the great German surgeon, interested himself in this matter particularly, and protected his left index-finger by a shield that acted also as mouth-gag in inserting the tubes. This technique was afterward to be made use of by O'Dwyer.
The first great step in intubation, as we know it at the present time, however, came from Bouchut, who suggested the use of a tube about the size of a thimble meant to be inserted into the larynx. At the upper part of this tube there were a pair of rings, between which the vocal cords were supposed to rest and hold it in place. Bouchut operated in seven cases with his tube, but five of his patients died, while two of them recovered only after tracheotomy had been performed. Bouchut succeeded, however, in showing that the larynx would tolerate a tube, though he made exaggerated claims for his method, while the very imperfect instruments he employed foredoomed his inventions to failure. It happened, moreover, that the time was unpropitious. Trousseau had not long before re-invented tracheotomy, and had employed it with considerable success in cases of croup. Under Trousseau's influence, a committee of the Academy of [{339}] Medicine of Paris declared Bouchut's method unphysiological and impracticable. Moeller, of Koenigsberg, tried to reintegrate Bouchut's method with certain ameliorations, but failed. The field of intubation--and a very discouraging one it seems, strewn as it was with failures made by many excellent workers--was left for O'Dwyer to exploit. How thoroughly he worked out his methods can best be appreciated from the fact that no improvement of importance has come since he presented to the medical profession the intubation system as he had elaborated it some fifteen years ago.
How thoroughly Dr. O'Dwyer realized all the difficulties attached to the practice of intubation may be gathered from some of his articles on details of the treatment of patients necessary in order to make intubation a success. One of the great difficulties in the matter was the liability, when a tube was in place, for food and drink to find their way, during the process of swallowing, into contact with sensitive tissues of the larynx. To overcome this difficulty, Dr. O'Dwyer made many modifications of the upper part of the tube. Accordingly he made many wax models of the larynx, and studied the function of the epiglottis and its method of covering the larynx in order to facilitate the complete protection of the laryngeal tissues during the process of swallowing. Finally, he succeeded in making a tube that enables most patients to learn how to swallow without much difficulty.
In the mean time O'Dwyer was full of practical suggestions with regard to the management of these cases. His clinical experience showed him that it was better to teach the patients to swallow rapidly and then cough up any material that might find its way into the larynx rather than to take small sips with a spasm of coughing after each sip. He showed that, notwithstanding the apparently great danger [{340}] of portions of food being carried past the larynx into the trachea, and so to the lungs, there was not nearly so much risk in this matter as had been anticipated. The almost inevitable occurrence of pneumonia was supposed to be one of the serious objections to the use of the intubation methods. Careful pathological investigations, however, soon showed that pneumonia developed much less frequently than had been expected, and, as a rule, when it did develop, it was due to an extension of the diphtheritic processes from the throat rather than to any infection by material that, because of the presence of the tube, had been inadvertently allowed to find its way into the respiratory tract.
However, O'Dwyer's work was not done without considerable opposition. Bouchut's original invention of tubes for the larynx had failed to attract attention because of its condemnation by the Academy of Medicine of Paris, under the influence of Trousseau. When O'Dwyer's tubes were first suggested, then, there were not lacking critics, who said at once that his method was not new, that it had been fairly tried already and found wanting, and that it was hopeless to expect that any intubation method would succeed, since the larynx would not tolerate such a foreign body. There are always those who are sure, on a priori grounds, that a new invention cannot succeed because it infringes on certain well-known physical laws that make it impossible. Similarly there were a number of experienced clinicians who were sure that O'Dwyer's reported results could not be as represented.
It was not only from members of the medical profession that O'Dwyer met with discouragement. His work at the Foundling Asylum was carried on in spite of many difficulties and disappointments. His first contrivances for keeping the larynx open in spite of the inflammatory swelling were all failures, and, as owing to unfamiliarity considerable [{341}] difficulty was experienced in the insertion of the various mechanical appliances, he seemed to be adding to the torture of his little patients. Many of the attendants at the hospital became discouraged and almost dreaded to see any attempt made to save the children. From one of the sisters attached to that institution O'Dwyer received the greatest possible encouragement. Sister Rosalie had often been known to weep at the death of her little charges, orphans though they were, and, though death frequently seemed a welcome relief from suffering, she hoped against hope that something would be accomplished to make deaths by asphyxiation rarer; so that even in the face of repeated failure she was ever ready to encourage O'Dwyer in further attempts in the accomplishment of his humane purpose. Not a little of his ultimate success is due to her sympathy and the enthusiastic faith inspired by her motherly love for the little homeless waifs who had come to occupy places in her heart.
At the beginning, some of the specialists in children's diseases gave the new method a trial, yet without obtaining satisfactory results. Professor Jacobi, our most distinguished specialist in that field in America, to whom the German government offered the chair of pediatrics at the University of Berlin, contended, in writing his article on diphtheria for Pepper's System of Medicine, that intubation could not be expected to accomplish all that was claimed for it. It was not long, however, before Jacobi realized his mistake in this matter and handsomely made up for it. While he was president of the Academy of Medicine, in opening a discussion on intubation before the academy, in 1886, he said that O'Dwyer's work deserved all possible praise, and that his untiring devotion to the subject, in silent patience until he had brought it to perfection, was a model [{342}] that might well be held up for the emulation of American physicians, commonly only too prone to announce discoveries even before they were made.
Besides the application of O'Dwyer's tubes in acute diseases affecting the larynx and causing difficulty of breathing, the method of intubation has proved of special service in the treatment of stenotic diseases of the larynx. There are certain diseases in which deep ulcerations of the vocal cords, and of the laryngeal structures in their neighborhood, are followed by persistent contraction. This contraction may extend so as to cause serious narrowing of the chink of the glottis, producing difficulty of breathing, and an intense breath-hunger that usually causes excruciating agony. Such patients formerly were objects of very special pity, but unfortunately very little could be done for them. Since the introduction of O'Dwyer's tubes, the lot of these patients has been made not only more tolerable, but, in course of time, even actual cures have been obtained, the tendency to contraction in the scar-tissue in the larynx being eventually overcome, with consequent relief of all the symptoms.
Dr. O'Dwyer himself tells the story of the first patient thus treated. It was a woman, about forty years of age, the innocent victim of a dissolute husband, who came suffering with labored, stridulous breathing. The morning of the previous day she had visited a prominent laryngologist of New York City, who advised her to have tracheotomy done before the sun went down. A colleague suggested that she should go to Dr. O'Dwyer to see if he could not give her relief by means of his process of intubation. The stricture in the larynx had resulted after the healing of frequently repeated ulcerations. The tissue all around the site of the old ulcers was densely cicatricial, with a very marked tendency to contract. The aperture through which the breathing [{343}] had to be done was just sufficient to admit air enough to allow the patient to continue on her feet, but it was becoming ever narrower, while her discomfort was very marked. The stenosis had been coming on for two years, and was slowly progressive in spite of every form of treatment then known to the medical profession.
At this time there was no such thing as intubation tubes suited for adults. Dr. O'Dwyer, therefore, had a set made, using as models casts taken from a series of various-sized bodies, and furnishing directions to the instrument-maker from careful measurements of adult larynxes. The tubes were made in various sizes for different-sized people, but none of them was small enough to be of service in this case, and even the largest of the tubes that had been made for children could be inserted only after the use of considerable force. This tube was inserted and allowed to remain for several days and then the next larger size was introduced. As considerable irritation had been set up by the previous tube, however, an interval of several days' rest was allowed. At the end of about eighteen days, breathing had become quite comfortable and the patient was allowed to return to her home in a suburban town. In two months and a half, however, all her symptoms had returned.
Another course of dilatation was then undertaken, and the patient was instructed to return thereafter every week for some time, until the tendency to contraction had been overcome. After a time, the intervals between dilatations were increased to a month, and then to six weeks, without any return of the dyspnoea. It is characteristic of O'Dwyer's very conservative view of things to find his prognosis of this case as given to the "Laryngological Section" of the Ninth International Medical Congress. He said:
"It is now one year and nine months since I began the [{344}] dilatation of this patient's larynx, and there is scarcely any doubt that it will be necessary to continue it during the rest of her life."
Later, however, we find the report:
"The cicatricial tissue in the larynx (as reported by the doctor) lost its tendency to contract, and the patient has remained now for over five years free from any return of the stenosis."
This last sentence is from Dr. O'Dwyer's note of the case, when by special invitation he discussed the subject at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association, held at Bristol, England, in July, 1894.
Interesting as is the career of Dr. O'Dwyer as an investigator and discoverer in medicine, his character as a man is still more worthy of attention. For nearly thirty-five years he was a member of the staff of the New York Foundling Asylum; during which time he endeared himself to sisters and nurses, to his brother-physicians on the staff and to his little patients. He was eminently conscientious in the fulfilment of his duty, and had a tender sympathy that made him feel every slightest pain of his child-patients almost as personal.
One very stormy evening, in the closing years of his life, after his more than twenty years' service as a member of the asylum staff, a little child fell ill and he was sent for. Though not well himself, the doctor came out into the night and the storm to attend the little patient. As he was leaving the hospital, long after midnight, one of the sisters, who had been longest in the hospital and who knew him very well, said to him:
"But Doctor, why did you come out on such an awful night? The house physician might have gotten on very well without you until morning, even though the little one was much worse than usual."
"Ah, sister," he said, "it was a child suffering, and I couldn't stay home and think that perhaps there was something I might suggest that would relieve that suffering even a little during the night."
It was this beautifully tender sympathy that urged him on against many discouragements to continue his investigations with regard to the possibility of intubation, and finally led him to his brilliant and perfected discovery. Yet it is even more interesting to find that after all these years of labor, just as soon as antitoxin was introduced, and it became clear that a new and great advance in therapeutics had probably been made, O'Dwyer immediately took up the new remedy in order to test fully its possibilities. If antitoxin were to prove the success that was claimed for it abroad, if cases of diphtheria were to recover under its influence as they apparently had done in France and Germany, then the role of intubation would soon be a very small one and O'Dwyer's years of patient investigation would go for very little. Such considerations, however, had no weight with him, and it may be said that during his superintendency at the New York Foundling Asylum antitoxin had for the first time a full, unrestricted opportunity given it to demonstrate its power for good.
Notwithstanding discouragements of many kinds, the test of the efficacy of diphtheria serum was persevered in when others with more apparent reason for interest in it became disheartened and were ready to give it up, if not even actually deprecating its use. The medical profession understands very well now how unfavorable were the conditions under which diphtheria antitoxin was used at first. The original experiments had been made in the laboratory with small animals, and the amount of antitoxin necessary to produce good effects in human beings was not well understood. As [{346}] a distinguished authority in children's diseases, who is himself a great advocate of the efficacy of antitoxin, once said: "It can practically be admitted that when first antitoxin was introduced its use was scarcely more than expectant treatment." That is to say, so little of antitoxic power was contained in the serum injected at first that the children were practically only kept from other and more exhausting forms of treatment, while the physicians awaited the results with nature as the only really active therapeutic agent.
After all, it must not be forgotten that the first doses of antitoxin contained at most 50 to 100 antitoxin units, as we now measure serum efficacy for the treatment of diphtheria. At the present time no one would think of using less than five hundred units as a beginning dose, and those who obtain the best results begin with 1000 to 1500, or in severe cases with 2000 to 3000 units of antitoxic strength. It is almost providential that, notwithstanding this failure to understand the serum properly, the verdict of the profession did not go so generally against antitoxin as to condemn its use hopelessly. It is owing to O'Dwyer and a few other sympathetic souls, who "hoped almost against hope," that finally experience succeeded in demonstrating the true value of diphtheria antitoxin.
There was another difficulty, however, in the way of the adoption of antitoxin that had to be overcome, one that proved no little source of discouragement to many of those who were testing the remedy. The original diphtheria serum employed was not concentrated; so when a sufficient amount of antitoxic units to neutralize the toxins of the disease under treatment was employed, a large quantity of serum had to be injected. Experience shows that the injection of any foreign blood serum into an animal is followed by a certain amount of haemolysis, or blood destruction, and by [{347}] certain cutaneous manifestations, such as urticaria, erythemata, the familiar hives-like eruption and red itchy spots, which prove a great source of annoyance. In very susceptible cases the injection of even a small amount of foreign serum is followed by some fever, by restlessness, and red and swollen joints. In the early days of the employment of diphtheria antitoxin, all of these complications were noted in many cases. They were sufficient to make many who were interested in the demonstration of the value of antitoxin so disappointed and discouraged that they gave up the task. Not so, however, with O'Dwyer, who continued its use, and encouraged others by his example so that in spite of these objections antitoxin obtained a firm foothold.
Dr. O'Dwyer's conduct, with regard to the continued use of antitoxin under the discouraging conditions we have sketched, stamps him as a great member of his humanitarian profession, whose only purpose was the relief of suffering and the cure of disease, without any thought, moreover, of self-glorification. The use of antitoxin has made the necessity for intubation occur much less frequently than before, and thus has undone some of the good contemplated by Dr. O'Dwyer, but has accomplished it in a way which he eminently approved and helped on as far as lay in his power, even at the time when others were doubtful, not without good reasons, as to the results that were being obtained from the use of antitoxin.
Perhaps the best index of the sincere simplicity and frank goodness of O'Dwyer's character is to be found in his relations to the religious community of which he had been so long a medical attendant. In the words of one of their superiors, he was looked upon by the sisters at the Foundling Asylum as the father of the house, who had, as might be expected, the confidence and trust of every member of the [{348}] community. His relations to Sister Irene, the famed superior of the asylum, became those almost of brother to sister. Sister Irene (as is well known), though a woman who accomplished some of the best philanthropic work that, at least, our generation has known, was always in delicate health. For several years before his death, Dr. O'Dwyer scarcely ever let an evening go by without coming to see her personally. He, better than anyone else, realized how much she had done for the Foundling Asylum, and how much her wonderful influence was still accomplishing in making the extension of that work possible.
There is, of course, another side to this story of Dr. O'Dwyer's solicitude for Sister Irene that deserves to be noticed. Few women have ever accomplished work of the extent and character that Sister Irene succeeded in doing with so little friction. In the parlor of the Foundling Asylum there is an engrossed scroll--a tribute to her memory from the medical board of the Asylum--which shows how well she was appreciated. As a bit of hospital history it deserves a place here, especially as there seems no doubt that O'Dwyer's mutual relations to the sisters and to the medical staff were of a kind that helped wonderfully in securing the frictionless co-operation that meant so much for the institution. The memorial scroll reads as follows:
"Tribute to the memory of Sister Irene--to the Sister Superior who secured friends and funds for the building of the first and largest foundling hospital in America.
"To the sweet-souled woman--the friend of the foundling and fallen; to the best friend any medical board ever had, this tribute is presented with their sympathies to the Reverend Mother and the Sisterhood of the Sisters of Charity by the Medical Board of the New York Foundling Hospital."
While an extremely modest man himself, and one of very [{349}] few words, Dr. O'Dwyer delighted in teaching others anything he felt that he knew well himself. His conduct with regard to the teaching of intubation was especially admirable. He was ready to show any serious-minded physician just how the operation was accomplished, and many a young doctor obtained precious training in the exercise of the rather difficult manipulation involved in placing a tube in a child's larynx from the hands of O'Dwyer himself. He never lost patience with the awkward ones and never seemed to consider that too many calls were made on his time. He might easily have made money on the operation or the instruments, but deemed such considerations unworthy of his professional dignity. Personally he was a very reticent man, but, as a number of friends have said of him, "he made every word count;" and those who knew him best justly appreciated the expression of an opinion from him, since it was always sure to be the fruit of mature consideration and the result of personal clinical experience, usually extending over long periods.
The opinion held of Dr. O'Dwyer by his colleagues in the profession--and, be it well understood, there is no more searching appreciation of practical methods and theoretical opinions than that obtained by brother-physicians--is the best possible tribute to his greatness as an investigator, his honorableness as a practitioner, and his distinction as a man. We quote the summing up of his character given by Dr. Northrup, who had been his colleague for a score of years at the New York Foundling Asylum, and whose paper on the subject was read before the New York Academy of Medicine shortly after O'Dwyer's death:
"What the world knows of O'Dwyer," said Dr. Northrup, "is his genius as an inventor, his achievement in adding a great operation to the equipment of the profession, and thus [{350}] making the most conspicuous real contribution to medical progress within the last fifty years. This the world knows and has acknowledged. To us there is another and a pleasant duty to testify, that with this genius there was all that goes to make a man. His home life, his religious life, his civic life, his professional relations with both colleague and patient, his hospital relations, were such as befit a high-principled man. As highly as we esteem him as an inventor and genius and practitioner of wide knowledge, as much as we valued his superior medical judgment, we would write upon the monument of his achievements, 'O'Dwyer the Man.'"
In a previous passage of his address before the Academy, Dr. Northrup had said:
"If I were asked what most contributed to Dr. O'Dwyer's medical excellence I would say his habit of thinking and his good logic. He had a good medical mind, an excellent medical judgment. Above all, that quality of intellect which allows a man to grow after the age of forty. To the New York Foundling Asylum, with which Dr. O'Dwyer was connected for twenty-five years, he was everything; to the maternity service he was the expert obstetrician; in intubation he was the inventor and teacher; in the general medical service he was the constant consulting mind, whose opinion in times of difficulties and in the midst of puzzling clinical problems every one voluntarily sought. To the Sisters of Charity he was physician and friend, consulted with regard to every important concern of the house, whether medical or not. All adored him."
Dr. O'Dwyer's domestic life was most happy. He had married, very suitably, a woman of bright disposition, who was a foil to his own soberer and more melancholy ways, and the relations between husband and wife growing tenderer with the progress of years, their home-life became the model [{351}] of an ideal Christian family. When he lost her through death, more than half of his life seemed to have gone, and he never quite recovered from the blow. The circumstances of her death added to his sense of loss, as it must have increased his appreciation of her worth. She died a martyr to what she considered her duty as a Christian mother. During the course of a pregnancy she was taken with what is known as pernicious vomiting, an affection that is likely to prove fatal unless the irritated uterus should be relieved of its burden--a means that neither she nor her husband would consent to adopt. Her death thus was the result.
During the years after the death of the doctor's wife, intimate friends found out what an effort of Christian fortitude it was for him to keep up his spirits and his work. Though he was one of the busiest of professional men, in very active practice, not a week passed but he found time to go to her grave and put flowers thereon. Just after her death he was as a man stricken by some dazing mental affection. Yet his sense of duty was so great that on his return from her funeral, being informed that a little child suffering from diphtheria needed his services for the performance of intubation, he at once made haste to comply with the untimely demand on him, and had given the little patient relief within the quarter of an hour after he had alighted from the funeral carriage.
Personally, Dr. O'Dwyer was of cold exterior, nor had he many close friends. Those who knew him well understood that beneath the layer of ice there was a warm, considerate, tender heart for those whom he admitted to the penetralia of his intimacy. On the other hand, few men have ever had friends more devoted than were O'Dwyer's. He was, however, of an extremely sensitive disposition. His conclusions in medicine had always been worked out with [{352}] the greatest care, and were the results of personal observations. To have them criticised then by those who had much less experience, or who had never thought along the same lines, was always intolerable to him, and generally kept him out of medical discussions. Those who knew him best realized that his opinions were of the greatest value, nor ever failed to contain a germ of original thought, the result of his personal experience. After his long years of work at intubation, many of his medical brethren refused at first to accept his new method of treatment, claiming that it did not reduce the mortality, even though it did for a moment relieve the sufferings of the patient. This position was a source of the keenest disappointment and depression to O'Dwyer.
After the method of treatment by intubation had been for some time before the medical profession of the country, a thorough discussion of it was held at one of the meetings of the Academy of Medicine of New York. Authorities in children's diseases from several of the large Eastern cities were invited to be present to give their opinions of intubation. Most of them were agreed that O'Dwyer's invention was of very little service. It was not a novelty in the history of medicine to have a really great and helpful discovery thus at first rejected by those who were later to be its ardent advocates. To O'Dwyer, however, who was present and took part in the discussion, the criticism of his method of treatment was a source of veritable torment. He did not show at the meeting how deeply wounded was his spirit, but for three days afterward he practically shut himself up in his room and refused to see anyone.
Naturally he was of a rather melancholic tendency, prone to dwell on the sadder side of things, and was constantly interested in sad stories and songs. He liked sad music, [{353}] and usually refused to listen to the livelier airs that others, especially of his race, were apt to find so refreshing. Something of this sterner side of his character entered into all his relations with others, and even with his own family. Though deeply affectionate, he very seldom permitted them to see and appreciate that fact. He was rather apt to be stern than otherwise, fearful lest his affection should in any way spoil them. To the very young children, in whose regard he did not consider this objection to hold, he was almost demonstratively affectionate, and those who knew his love for little children appreciated the sacrifice he made in denying himself demonstrations of affection to his own.
With all his sadness there was, as might be expected from his racial descent, a vein of dry humor, not infrequently manifest, though only to very near friends. He appreciated a good story, though the slightest tendency to vulgarity was extremely displeasing to him. He is said to be the originator of the humorous expression that has since been used often enough. While one day calling at a friend's house, in the absence of the friend, the servant asked him to leave his name, but was met with the reply (from the doctor) that "he preferred not to, as he thought he might have use for it before he got home."
The religious side of O'Dwyer's character is intensely interesting, because it represents a successful professional man--the maker of an important discovery in medicine; a logical, scientific thinker, whose opinion was valued by all his professional brethren--as one of the simplest of believers, tenderly pious and faithful. The sexton of the church near which he lived tells (since his death) of frequently seeing him steal in during the day to say his prayers at the foot of the altar. He was one of the most faithful attendants at the communions and retreats of the Xavier Alumni Sodality [{354}] of New York City, of which he was an enthusiastic member. His deep piety can, perhaps, be best appreciated from a characteristic incident, which illustrates his faith in prayer--his confidence in Providence. He had asked for something with regard to one of his children over and over again, and finally thought that his prayer had been heard. Later on he had reason to regret the fact that his wish had been granted, and to a friend, to whom he told the circumstances, he said:
"All that we can do is to say with resignation, 'Thy will be done,' and then we shall be sure that whatever happens will be for the best."
The story of O'Dwyer's death serves to illustrate some of the weaker points of modern medicine. During the nearly ten years after his wife's death he had never been quite the same man, but had succeeded in doing a large amount of work and had continued to care for a very large practice. In December, 1897, he began to develop some anomalous symptoms, pointing to a serious pathological condition within the skull. He seemed to have had what are known as "Ménière's symptoms," that is, a tendency to vertigo, some ringing in the ears and other unpleasant feelings. Toward the end of that month some hemiplegia, or at least some weakness of one side of his body, developed. He was rather neglectful of his personal health, as most physicians are, and until this time had paid very little attention to his symptoms. Most of the prominent New York consultants and nervous specialists were called in, but there was a marked disaccord as to the cause of the symptoms.
After some days in bed, comatose symptoms began to manifest themselves, and on January the seventh following, after having been lethargic for some days, Dr. O'Dwyer died. The antemortem diagnosis of his case was dubious, lying amid the possibilities of tubercular meningitis, [{355}] secondary infection after otitis media, and secondary infection from some external cause. During the previous December, O'Dwyer had been treating a patient with carbuncle, and developed himself a small carbuncle on his chin. By some it is thought that infectious material from this lesion had been carried by emissary veins or their accompanying lymphatics to the inside of the skull, affecting the meninges, and perhaps portions of the brain-substance itself.
The postmortem examination did not entirely clear up the doubts of diagnosis. The lateral sinus was found thrombosed, while there were some suspicious signs in the middle ear, but no distinct inflammatory condition. Just how the infection took place, then, is not clear, but O'Dwyer's condition of lowered resistive vitality was evidently at fault, to an important degree, in permitting infection to take place and in not throwing it off afterward.
At the time of his death he was about fifty-seven years of age. He had reached the maturity of his powers, and with the consciousness of having accomplished one good work was ready for further original investigations in practical medicine. A thought that had occupied him very much toward the end of his life was the possibility of a mechanical method of treating pneumonia. He had made a series of experiments on the lungs, and many clinical observations with regard to the possibility of producing over-inflation by mechanical measures. He confided to one of his physician friends, who had been closest to him during life, that he hoped thus to secure a method of treating pneumonia successfully. This, after all, is the most serious problem in present-day medicine. Our death-rate from pneumonia is at least as high now as it was a century ago. O'Dwyer started from the observation that those suffering from emphysema seldom develop true pneumonia. And he hoped [{356}] to prevent the progress of the disease, or to abort it in its inception, by producing artificial emphysema for the time being. Had he lived, it seems not unlikely that we would have had further original work of a high order from him.
Though of Irish descent, Dr. O'Dwyer illustrated very well the expression that was used of the English nobility who went to Ireland in Elizabeth's time, and who are said to have become "more Irish than the Irish themselves." O'Dwyer became an American of the Americans. He believed in meeting Americans on their own ground, cultivating their acquaintance, and making them realize the worth of new citizens of the republic by showing them how sincere was the patriotism of their recently admitted compatriots.
Dr. O'Dwyer was in everything the model of a Christian gentleman, and an exemplary member of the great humanitarian profession whose charitable opportunities he knew how to find and take advantage of at every turn in life. The American medical profession has never had a more worthy model of all that can be expected from physicians in their philanthropic duties toward suffering humanity, nor a better exemplar of what Christian manhood means in the widest sense of that expressive term. With an inventive genius of a high order, that gave him a prominent place in a great generation and that has stamped his name on the roll of medical fame for all time, there were united the simple faith, the earnest purpose, the clear-sighted judgment and the feeling kindness--those supreme qualities of head and heart that will always secure for him a prominent place in the small group of great medical men.