It is the true story of two contradictory figures
who lived during the 20th century. As different as they were, they
were very much the same. You’ll understand by the time I finish the story.
Alfred Blalock was an eminent white
physician who pioneered some pretty impressive breakthroughs in medical
science. It so happened he needed a cleanup man for his lab, and a black fella
named Vivian (yes, Vivian) Thomas applied for the job.
He’d hardly begun his new job when Dr.
Blalock realized he’d hired a prodigy. For although the young black man had
only a high school diploma, he displayed the most intense interest in the
doctor’s activities, and was often found reading medical journals in his free
time. When Alfred quizzed Vivian, he learned the young man had plans for
medical school.
Though the two men were from different
social, academic and economic strata, they found themselves drawn to one
another, and ultimately became fast friends, as well as partners. Blalock
depended on Thomas and seemed bound and determined to take him where ever fate
beckoned them.
Eventually the physician moved to
Baltimore and a position at Johns Hopkins University Hospital. The men left
Nashville and the South far behind, in favor of this new challenge.
This new environment agreed with them, and
they were quickly inundated with lab work devoted to discovering the secrets of
the heart; (organic, not romantic). It took very little time for Alfred to
understand just how talented and proficient Vivian really was.
Oh, there was the normal misunderstandings
between the two. It was “The Thirties” and black men were still being hung from
trees for the “serious offense” of smiling at a white woman. The relationship
was colored by the times, but possibly more by the pride that circulated in the
veins of the eminent physician. When Dr. Blalock was featured on the cover of
Life Magazine, he never considered including Vivian. When he had the
opportunity to speak before an audience of his peers, he never mentioned the
contribution of his black partner.
Yet there was something special about
Vivian Thomas; something that transcended every purposeful or cultural attempt
to “keep him down.” And for all their differences and all their
misunderstandings, the two loved and respected one another. And they formed an
attachment that superceded the physician’s relationship with his own peers.
Though he was only a lab
technician, Vivian attempted some heretofore theoretical techniques in
surgery;…with dogs serving as his guinea pigs. And though “The Forties” had
arrived, and though American physicians thought of themselves as pioneers,
heart surgery was still considered both impossible, and taboo. Things were
about to change.
The two men developed a treatment for
“blue baby syndrome,” and decided it was time to make the leap from animals to
humans. Half the staff thought they were crazy, and the other half expected
them to fail.
The initial operation on a very sick baby
proceeded, and hours ticked by. As the surgery concluded and the heart stint
was opened wide, the child’s bluish color immediately faded and her skin turned
a wonderful pink. At that moment childish smiles lit Alfred’s and Vivian’s
features. They had done “the impossible” and put all the nay sayers to shame.
Vivian’s mentors became his students, (which
has been known to happen). For the humble little black man, with a high school
diploma, found himself in a position to instruct preeminent physicians. And the
fame of that little black man spread quickly throughout the hospital and the world.
Respect replaced prejudice.
Dr. Blalock ultimately left Johns Hopkins
in favor of a teaching post, while Vivian remained in his lab. Years flew by
and the good doctor died, as Thomas aged in his important position.
The lab technician never realized his dream
of medical school. Money was always the issue. He lived and died a high school
graduate. But that is not “the rest of the story.”
As Vivian neared the end of his marvelous
journey, it occurred to “the powers that be” at Johns Hopkins that the humble
man merited a singular honor. And on such and such a day the entire staff
gathered to congratulate the man who, along with his mentor, had almost single
handedly put their institution on the map.
We have chosen to sit near the back of the
auditorium, and we notice Vivian seated on the first row with his family.
Suddenly, a female doctor walks to the podium, and calls Mr. Thomas
forward, as she begins to read from a large certificate.
Afterwards, a beautiful painting of Vivian
is unveiled. The little man’s eyes light up, and well with tears. A lab
technician had stepped onto the stage. A doctor now steps off of it. For our
wonderful little hero has been awarded an Honorary Doctorate in Medicine!
And did I tell you? The painting of Dr.
Vivian Thomas can still be seen in the main lobby of Johns Hopkins University
Hospital next to the painting of his partner and friend, Dr. Alfred Blalock.
And in death their likenesses still reside there; side by side, as they did in
life. Vivian died in 1985, outliving his mentor by two decades.
These two most excellent fellows, Alfred
and Vivian, were medical pioneers. They performed the first heart surgeries in
the history of the world. All those surgeons who operate on the cardiac muscle
today have become the professional grandchildren of these two men. And the
millions of patients who ever had their lives extended ought pause a moment,
and reflect on the singular lives of Dr. Alfred Blalock and Dr. Vivian Thomas.
Alfred and Vivian were a gift
to mankind. They were, indeed, “Something the Lord Made.”
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 15. Vol.'s 1-15, Copyright 2015
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