Even the worst corner of the worst slum couldn’t compete with hospital wards and dissection rooms for filth. Sparrows squabbled over morsels of lung; a rat gnawed at a vertebra. Surgeons took pride in aprons so dirty they could have stood up on their own; one stored his instruments up his sleeve between surgeries to keep them warm. This was the Grand Guignol stage on which Joseph Lister took his place.
from London Review of Books https://ift.tt/2lBw4vf
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