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I came across a wonderful movie titled, “Something The Lord Made.” During the rental period we must have watched it five times; (not to mention we were late turning it back in.)
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
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