This paper draws attention to gendered dimensions of surgical device failure, focusing on two case studies—hernia repair mesh for pelvic organ prolapse, and metal-on-metal hip implants. We explore possible reasons for higher rates of harms to women, including systematic biases in health research and device regulation. Given that these factors are readily identifiable, we look to feminist scholarship to understand what might maintain them, including the role of cultural factors within surgery, such as gendered communication patterns and sexism. We (...) then canvas potential measures to mitigate the increased risk of harms faced by women who use implanted devices. (shrink)

The puzzling case of the broken arm -- Hernias, diets, and drugs -- Why physicians cannot know what will benefit patients -- Sacrificing patient benefit to protect patient rights -- Societal interests and duties to others -- The new, limited, twenty-first-century role for physicians as patient assistants -- Abandoning modern medical concepts: doctor's "orders" and hospital "discharge" -- Medicine can't "indicate": so why do we talk that way? --"Treatments of choice" and "medical necessity": who is fooling whom? -- Abandoning informed (...) consent -- Why physicians get it wrong and the alternatives to consent: patient choice and deep value pairing -- The end of prescribing: why prescription writing is irrational -- The alternatives to prescribing -- Are fat people overweight? -- Beyond prettiness: death, disease, and being fat -- Universal but varied health insurance: only separate is equal -- Health insurance: the case for multiple lists -- Why hospice care should not be a part of ideal health care I: the history of the hospice -- Why hospice care should not be a part of ideal health care II: hospice in a postmodern era -- Randomized human experimentation: the modern dilemma -- Randomized human experimentation: a proposal for the new medicine -- Clinical practice guidelines and why they are wrong -- Outcomes research and how values sneak into finding of fact -- The consensus of medical experts and why it is wrong so often. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Normalizing” Intersex Didn’t Feel Normal or Honest to Me.Karen A. WalshI am an intersex woman with Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (CAIS). My 57–year history with this has its own trajectory—mostly driven by medical events, and how I and my parents reacted. Most of my treatment by physicians has not been positive. It didn’t make me “normal” at all. I was born normal and didn’t require medical interventions. And by (...) the way, I’ve never been confused about who or what I am.Truthful disclosure didn’t come to me about my biology and what was done to me as an infant until I was 33, when I forced the issue by removing my medical records from my endocrinologist’s office. I learned that there was never full disclosure to my [End Page 119] parents either, and therefore there was no informed consent for the “corrective” surgeries performed on me as an infant. My parents were only told that their little girl would get cancer and would not have a normal development as a girl unless her “deformed ovaries” were removed, and that they should never discuss these problems with me. Thus, after having presented with an inguinal hernia and having exploratory surgery at age 16 months, my intra–abdominal testes were removed in a second surgery two months later. I was pronounced a “male pseudohermaphrodite,” a diagnosis that was shared neither with my parents nor with me.Years later, I discovered an article my surgeon published in 1960 in the Delaware Medical Journal about me and another intersex person he operated on (whom he labeled a “true hermaphrodite”). The article gives a very detailed pathology report of my gonads, but only two sentences regarding my welfare and the rationale for performing those surgeries. Dr. J. F. Kustrup wrote in this article, “These [two cases] emphasize the need for early diagnosis and treatment in order to avoid the possibility of malignant change and to permit these individuals to follow a normal psychosexual pattern.” And: “Hermaphroditism and pseudohermaphroditism are conditions in which early diagnosis and treatment are essential to avoid malignant degeneration and to allow the child some chance toward normal pyschic [sic] development.” I was grateful to find this article because it revealed the unfounded assumptions underpinning the recommendations for treatment, much of which continues today. Worse even than the sort of social prejudice that shapes treatment is the absence of evidence for what doctors treat as “necessary” interventions. For my syndrome, CAIS, there never was—and still is not—data to support the cancer scare, or the opinion that I’d be confused and not have a normal life.From about the age of four, I can remember being different and being stonewalled by my doctor and prevented by my parents from talking about it. The feelings and fears I tried to express were shushed away, and I could tell that my questions were upsetting everyone. Even if I had wanted to be complicit with their lame diversions and nonsensical explanations, the massive abdominal scars were there as a daily reminder and hinted at a very different story.The Road to Hell is Paved with Good IntentionsGrowing up, I was treated like a fascinoma and a lab rat at a major teaching hospital on the East Coast. All I learned from those doctors as a young kid was what it feels like to be ogled, photographed and probed by a roomful of white–coated male doctors. Dissociation made itself my friend, and helped me to cope through the annual genital and anal exams and probing. I thought I was a freak and I felt completely powerless to protect myself from them and their “care”.At my annual appointment at age 12, with my mom present, three doctors told me I was infertile. Learning that I couldn’t have kids really saddened and shocked me, but there was no opportunity to talk about my feelings—either that day, or any time afterward. I was told to stop crying. I remember them telling me that there was no one else like me and that this was a random genetic anomaly, thereby reinforcing the freakishness... (shrink)

Jean-Paul Sartre is the writer who gave the most trenchant formulation of existentialism and tried to do the same for a version of Marxism, and as a philosopher of history who got it wrong about history and then, in his last "philosophical manifesto" - volume III of the Idiot - got it brilliantly right. But Sartre did not write the second volume of the Critique. Or, more exactly, he wrote it but he did not publish it. The Critique, as Sartre (...) himself admitted, grew like a hernia on the body of the book on Flaubert, so that it had to be surgically removed and given a life of its own; but a sort of symbiosis persisted, and when it came to the continuation of the argument, Sartre seems to have sensed that volume II was a dead end, and that the route to the alternative would prove to lie after all in the Flaubert project itself. In order to understand Sartre's position, the author analyzes his conception of history, especially of the intelligibility of history by mean of the dialectical reason as a movement of totalization of practical seriality, and shows its actuality. (shrink)

Caroline of Ansbach, wife of George II, occupied a crucial position in the public life of early 18th-century Britain. She was seen to exert considerable influence on the politics of the court and, as mother to the Hanoverian dynasty's next generation, she became an important emblem for the nation's political well-being. This paper examines how such emblematic significance was challenged and qualified when Caroline's body could no longer be portrayed as healthy and life giving. Using private memoirs and correspondence from (...) the time of her death in 1737, the paper explores the metaphorical potential of the queen's strangulated hernia, as well as the particular problems it posed for the public image of her dynasty. Through these investigations, the paper will comment upon the haphazard nature of public discussion in the early 18th century, and reveal the complex relationship between political speculation and medical diagnosis. (shrink)

The recent discovery of a manuscript has allowed historians to understand the medical routine in a hospital known as the Schneidhaus in Augsburg between the sixteenth and nineteenth century. The context of the manuscript shows that at this institution, non-academic specialists, generally members of the guild of barber-surgeons and barbers, routinely performed surgical cures of intestinal hernia, scrotal swellings, and vesical calculus. The Schneidhaus exclusively admitted patients applying for such specialised treatments and offered no other services. Such a degree (...) of specialisation within medical establishments seems to have only existed in the Holy Roman Empire at this institution founded by the Fugger family in Augsburg. We propose that the Schneidhaus was either itself a model hospital or adopted a model from another site in Europe. In this paper, we investigate the connections of the Schneidhaus to the practice of surgeons in both Italy and Spain. In Italy, a momentous new technique for identifying and removing vesical calculi was first published in 1522. Although surgical treatment was established in Italian hospitals, they tended not to specialise in such surgical treatment exclusively. Moreover, at the time of the hospital’s foundation, the Fugger shifted their economic and social focus from Venice to the Iberian Peninsula. In Spain, research in the history of medicine is complicated by outdated notions about specialised surgery, not unlike those that were recently still current regarding the Holy Roman Empire. We attempt to disprove these notions and use the exemplary textbook of one academic physician, Francisco Díaz, to approach specialized surgical practice in sixteenth-century Spain. In his work, Díaz describes the new Italian surgical method in detail and recognizes the importance of craftsman surgeons to both its development and application. However, he also argues for an expanded role for academic physicians as supervisors of craftsman surgeons’ work. All this is suggestive of a greater network of surgical professionals within which both the methods of the craft and its organisational structures were transported. As such, the Schneidhaus can be seen as a node that embodied the institutionalization of surgical practice as a European phenomenon. Further research is necessary, and we propose how this might be carried out to reveal these historical phenomena in their full complexity. (shrink)

A clinical scenario is described where an anaesthetist is concerned about the seemingly high risk/benefit ratio relating to laparoscopic versus standard inguinal hernia operations. Some options for further action by the anaesthetist are introduced. The remainder of the paper explores the question of who can legitimately assess the acceptability of risk/benefit ratios, and defends the use of practice guidelines at the expense of so called clinical freedom. It is argued that respect for persons is not breached by limiting the (...) treatment options offered to patients to those therapies which have a ‘reasonable’ risk/benefit ratio. This ‘reasonableness’ is context dependent, and should be properly decided by those with expertise in the field. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Just Because You Can—Doesn’t Mean You Should”Mindy B. StatterAs Albert R. Jonsen stated, “The technological imperative begins to rule clinical decisions: if a technology exists, it must be applied. Patients... are moved to higher and higher levels of care, finally becoming enmeshed in a tangle of tubes that extinguish their identity and needs as persons.” In this case the conflict created by the parental demand for the utilization of (...) technology, extracorporeal support in a neonate will be explored.I was consulted in the care of a newborn with a right–sided congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH). In this anomaly the diaphragm, the muscular partition that separates the abdomen and the thorax, forms incompletely, and the viscera migrate up into the chest compressing the developing lung, shifting the medistinum and heart and compressing the contralateral lung. The resulting lung maldevelopment is termed pulmonary hypoplasia. The maldevelopment of the lungs in CDH is variable with the most severe forms resulting in neonatal death. This congenital anomaly is associated with 55% survivability; the poor prognosis is due to the pulmonary hypoplasia. In addition to pulmonary hypoplasia, there is the association of pulmonary hypertension with CDH. Pulmonary hypertension is a condition where the vascular resistance in the lung is high with reduced blood flow within the lung. The physiologic consequence of pulmonary hypertension is hypoxemia, oxygen deficiency in the blood, and reduced oxygen delivery to all organs. Unlike severe pulmonary hypoplasia, pulmonary hypertension is reversible. When an infant with CDH is born and deteriorates due to respiratory failure it can be difficult to determine whether the respiratory failiure is due to pulmonary hypoplasia or pulmonary hypertension. Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO) is indicated in the management of reversible respiratory and, or cardiac failure. In the case of neonates with CDH, ECMO addressess the reversible component of the respiratory failure, the pulmonary hypertension. The respiratory failure due to severe pulmonary hypoplasia is not reversible; ECMO is not indicated. There are established criteria to guide the determination of which infant is a candidate for ECMO. Depending upon the ECMO center, the stringency can vary.In this case, the baby had significant respiratory failure with impairment in both oxygenation, hypoxia, and ventilation–the elimination of carbon dioxide, hypercapnea. The neonatologist spoke with the mother who stated that she wanted “everything done” including ECMO in the management [End Page 22] of her baby. When the neonatologist consulted me to put the baby on ECMO I expressed my concern that this infant had irreversible respiratory failure due to pulmonary hypoplasia. And simply from a technical aspect, I could not guarantee that ECMO would “work”. When an infant is “cannulated” for extracorporeal support, cannulas are inserted to allow for the drainage of blood into the ECMO circuit, the blood oxygenated and the carbon dioxide is cleared, and the blood is then returned to the infant. The majority of diaphragmatic hernias are on the left and when the CDH is on the right side, the right heart may be compressed by the viscera in the chest, and venous drainage into the ECMO circuit may be impaired. When this is encountered, the next step in the management algorithm is to fix the hernia–reduce and return the viscera within the chest to the abdomen and eliminate the visceral compression of the right heart. The neonatologist shared my concern and also reiterated that this baby’s mother wanted “everything done”. I had little uncertainty as to the etiology of the respiratory failure in this baby. In meeting the mother’s demands I then suggested that the hernia be repaired first, and if there was improvement in the hypoxia and hypercapnea, then give the baby the benefit of the doubt that there is a component of reversibility to the respiratory failure and then proceed with ECMO cannulation. The neonatologist agreed with this suggested plan.I then went to talk with the baby’s mother. I explained my concerns that based on the profound hypercapnea on the arterial blood gases that the baby’s respiratory failure was due to pulmonary hypoplasia and not reversible with extracorporeal support. She insisted that her baby be put on ECMO. I then explained the operative algorithm and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Road to RedemptionAnonymous TwoI “am Dr X.* and I am a trained and board certified neonatologist with some years of experience in a high volume NICU with complex pathologies. I have been dismissed from the care of your baby by the fetal surgeon who is not trained in what he’s attempting to do,” that was how I felt when I left the operating room (OR), after performing initial (...) resuscitation on a newborn with congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH) with very poor prenatal prognostic indices. CDH is a diaphragm abnormality that allows abdominal organs to move into the chest and restrict lung development. The better part of me knew not to make such a statement and chose not to do so, as this was about the family and a very sick baby, not the professional wrangling of two medical teams or the expression of frustration by a neonatologist who was morally conflicted.I work in a level four Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) and a very large one by any standard. Staff turnover had been an almost nonexistent issue in previous years because of the very conducive work environment of the NICU. Every team member (physician, nurse, respiratory therapist, pharmacist, etc.) felt like a stakeholder in providing optimal outcomes for the vulnerable neonates in the NICU.As change is the only constant thing in life, the hospital management decided to explore new frontiers and open a center for fetal medicine, with the hope of being a referral center in the region. They brought in a surgeon who came highly recommended for clinical acumen, but not for interpersonal relationship skills (unbeknownst to me). This surgeon, Dr Y., was hired to oversee the fetal center and build it into a center of excellence. Since this had to be a collaborative effort, other specialties (and subspecialties) had to be involved to make this a success. A representative from each of these specialties, including bioethics, was assigned to the fetal center team.The first inkling of a major problem occurred with the very first patient. The team met for the weekly meeting, reviewed the patient’s history and made a tentative plan, which included multidisciplinary counseling. This would require either a joint meeting with the patient or individual consults with the patient at her convenience. The following week at the weekly meeting, Dr Y. informed the group that he had met with the patient and counseled her and she had agreed to an extraordinary procedure for an oral lesion. In my opinion (and that of others), this lesion was not obstructive and could be immediately dealt with at delivery by an Otolaryngologist (ENT) surgeon, without putting the mother at risk for complications arising from the procedure being offered. There was a long discussion about why this was inappropriate [End Page E1] and why further imaging, discussion between the subspecialties and counseling should have been done prior to making this delivery plan. All felt this delivery plan could be remedied prior to delivery. However the surgeon had made plans with the obstetric team (who were at his mercy for financial/ political reasons) to continue with this plan. On the day of delivery, the NICU resuscitation team was called to another operating room instead of the labor and delivery room. I was even more appalled when I realized that the oral lesion was the size of a peanut! I felt like I failed in my obligation of veracity by avoiding the mother’s questions regarding the necessity of the procedure. Every member of my team felt the same and on several occasions I had to reassure concerned nurses that this was an aberrant occurrence that would not repeat itself... so I thought.I informed my departmental chairperson, Dr Z., who had a conversation with the fetal surgeon, Dr. Y., to inform him of my concerns and the effect of Dr. Y.’s actions on my group (physician, nurse practitioner, nurses). This led to being labeled unsupportive of Dr Y.’s goals and caused a less than cordial relationship towards me and the entire NICU group. The next week a picture of Dr Y. and the parents with the baby was on the front page... (shrink)

A clinical scenario is described where an anaesthetist is concerned about the seemingly high risk/benefit ratio relating to laparoscopic versus standard inguinal hernia operations. Some options for further action by the anaesthetist are introduced. The remainder of the paper explores the question of who can legitimately assess the acceptability of risk/benefit ratios, and defends the use of practice guidelines at the expense of so called clinical freedom. It is argued that respect for persons is not breached by limiting the (...) treatment options offered to patients to those therapies which have a ‘reasonable’ risk/benefit ratio. This ‘reasonableness’ is context dependent, and should be properly decided by those with expertise in the field. (shrink)

A clinical scenario is described where an anaesthetist is concerned about the seemingly high risk/benefit ratio relating to laparoscopic versus standard inguinal hernia operations. Some options for further action by the anaesthetist are introduced. The remainder of the paper explores the question of who can legitimately assess the acceptability of risk/benefit ratios, and defends the use of practice guidelines at the expense of so called clinical freedom. It is argued that respect for persons is not breached by limiting the (...) treatment options offered to patients to those therapies which have a ‘reasonable’ risk/benefit ratio. This ‘reasonableness’ is context dependent, and should be properly decided by those with expertise in the field. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:XY/XOLianne SimonAs a boy child I might once have thrived, but the loss of a Y chromosome in one of the first few cell divisions left me a faie half–girl struggling for life—like some changeling left in place of a human baby. My genetic mosaic of XY and XO cell lines created a fetal legacy of Turner Syndrome medical issues. Among these were delayed growth, a largely absent puberty, (...) and micrognathia—a small jaw that feminized my face. [End Page E11]At two I weighed just eighteen pounds. My parents worried they might lose their little boy, I was that frail. All I knew was I was the smallest of my peer group and had a cute pixie face. I imagined myself a high–spirited elfin princess, but was in truth shy—almost timid—and prone to tears.I first responded to the Gospel at vacation Bible school. One of the women there read me Bible stories. I didn’t understand them all, but I wanted to love Jesus and be a good girl.At nine I was the size of a 6–year–old. By then I’d started growing faster, so my mother stopped taking me to the doctors. I didn’t see one again until an emergency appendectomy in college.Fifth grade brought surprises. Jim melted my heart with his Beatles love songs and cute smile. I dreamed of being his bride. Karen was the first classmate ever shorter than me. We were best friends, but one day the principal said I should play softball with the boys instead of hopscotch with her.My parents allowed me dolls and tea sets, even an Easy–Bake oven. But wearing my sister’s clothes triggered a sad–eyed lecture—boys didn’t do such things. No dresses. No talking with my hands. No long hair. And no crushes on boys.If I prayed hard enough, if I was really good, maybe God would make me a real boy—tall and strong, fast and agile—like my older brother. Two years later, puberty cracked my high–pitched squeal of a voice and sent it sliding down to a mellower soprano. I grew taller, but didn’t get muscles or body hair, and I remained hopelessly uncoordinated. An inguinal hernia kept me from running very far.High school turned my prayers into pleas for mercy. I despaired of ever fitting in. Some Christians might not have welcomed a feminine boy, but the pastor of our Southern Baptist mission considered me one more sinner in need of the saving grace of a forgiving God. He led me to faith in Christ. As a new believer, I assumed I could be a boy for real. Maybe even find a girlfriend. Instead, the mask that allowed me to function socially crumbled, leaving me no place to hide.In the spring of 1970, I registered for the draft. Me fighting in Vietnam seemed a real possibility. Or at least spending time in prison for refusing induction. Except that a delicate intersex kid would never have passed the physical. Nearly perfect SAT scores won me a scholarship to Miami, so I left a supportive home in Illinois for a boys’ dorm in south Florida.My surname then was Klett. The worst of the guys called me Clit, or sometimes Clitoris. Others derided my small size and lack of virility. One propositioned me. Another used to pin me to my bed and lie on top of me until I quit struggling. Though he stopped each time I surrendered, my defenses lay in ruin.A few of the boys were nice. David took me for long rides on his motorcycle, with my arms wrapped tight around his waist. He treated me with gentle kindness and asked nothing in return.To escape the dorm, I studied in the library stacks, where only honors and graduate students were allowed. The next year I found a derelict building where the university stored old theatrical sets. It even had a quiet place to sit in the sun. Best of all—nobody ever went there.One day my imagination wandered through the wardrobe. What would I have worn... (shrink)

A three–year–old female undergoes elective inguinal hernia repair and unexpectedly is found to have testes in the hernia sacs. A recommendation is made not to disclose the patient’s genotype to her mother. This case study addresses the ethical conflict of whether to disclose the patient’s male genotype to the parent that has been raising the child as female.