{"id":29714,"date":"2024-08-08T11:00:26","date_gmt":"2024-08-08T15:00:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/circulatingnow.nlm.nih.gov\/?p=29714"},"modified":"2024-09-12T11:39:25","modified_gmt":"2024-09-12T15:39:25","slug":"a-photographic-view-into-the-medical-response-at-hiroshima","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/circulatingnow.nlm.nih.gov\/2024\/08\/08\/a-photographic-view-into-the-medical-response-at-hiroshima\/","title":{"rendered":"A Photographic View into the Medical Response at Hiroshima"},"content":{"rendered":"
Circulating Now welcomes guest blogger Jen Woronow. Her research explores the sociology and visual culture of historical and contemporary conflicts. Today, she joins us to discuss her research into the medical response at Hiroshima in the wake of the atomic bomb.<\/em><\/p>\n In preparation for presenting my findings on the Ninoshima Quarantine Station<\/a> at a recent conference, I took another look at a document I had studied at the National Library of Medicine (NLM)\u2014The Effects of Atomic Bombs on Health and Medical Services in Hiroshima and Nagasaki<\/em><\/a>, a report by the United States Strategic Bombing Survey\u2019s Medical Division. I needed to understand the extent of the damage to Hiroshima\u2019s medical infrastructure, and the report shed light on why so many people fled to temporary field hospitals like the one on the island of Ninoshima.<\/p>\n In the report, six Public Health Service officers and seven Army personnel explained the unimaginable through facts, figures, and photographs. Though the report describes and depicts injured survivors, they are represented from a clinical, almost voyeuristic gaze. The men, women, and children in these photos are relegated to their role as research subjects documented by an occupying military force.<\/p>\n However, this is but one glimpse into the larger view of Hiroshima. Another collection of photos at NLM captures a more personal experience of life after the a-bomb. These photos show doctors, nurses, and family members caring for others amidst unprecedented destruction.<\/p>\n “\u2026it is important to realize the magnitude of the destructive forces since they so completely surpass all previous concepts of destruction that one might have when thinking in terms of ordinary incendiary or high-explosive bombing.” (Report, pg. 2, para. 1<\/a>)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Hiroshima fared better than other Japanese cities even after being bombed with conventional weapons. Before the a-bomb, Hiroshima had a functioning medical system with enough doctors, nurses, and hospitals. In the aftermath of the a-bomb, seven healthcare facilities and many smaller clinics were demolished or left barely operational. On the first day, 80,000\u2013100,000 people needed urgent medical care.<\/p>\n For three days, organized medical care was nearly nonexistent. Critical supplies were destroyed, and only small stocks remained stored away in caves outside the city. These meager provisions did not last long. The report estimates that out of 250 doctors, only 30 could perform their duties by the end of the month. Within weeks,1,780 nurses were reduced to 126 with untrained volunteers struggling to fill the ranks.<\/p>\n Hours after the bombing, newspaper photographer Yoshito Matsushige<\/a> took the famous image below of an improvised aid station at Miyuki Bridge, about 2.2 kilometers from the hypocenter. Most injuries were lacerations from flying glass and debris or flash burns from the extreme heat of the explosion. Ordinarily, flash burns are treated with large quantities of blood plasma and intravenous fluids. In a documentary<\/a>, Matsushige explains how aid workers applied cooking oil and scraps of torn cloth in the absence of those supplies. It was a desperate effort to alleviate the suffering of people who did not know where else to go.<\/p>\n The remaining medical workers dutifully treated the wounded amidst the ruins of hospitals and clinics. In the photo on the left, we peer through the rubble to see a doctor applying dressings to a man\u2019s back. On the right, we enter a room bustling with activity, eyes drawn to the petite foot of a child undergoing a procedure. There is something intimate about these photos that is lacking in the report. The subjects are in a medical setting but not medicalized. They exist as people resolute in their will to survive.<\/p>\n There was also a strange new illness on the rise\u2014acute radiation sickness<\/a>. It began with weakness, nausea, and vomiting that progressed to frequent diarrhea. The diary of Michihiko Hachiya<\/a>, a doctor working at the Hiroshima Communications Hospital who had sustained injuries, mistook these early symptoms for a dysentery outbreak. It became clear that was not the case when patients began losing their hair and their white blood cell counts plummeted. Undaunted by the unknown, Dr. Hachiya continued to rely on his years of experience and training. Though not pictured in these photos at NLM, Dr. Hachiya was one of many medical personnel committed to serving others during a crisis.<\/p>\n These photos are as much a visual gateway into disaster response<\/a> as they are portrayals of caregiving. This connectedness humanizes people so often dehumanized by conflict. In war, medical systems are overwhelmed and barely functional leaving the most vulnerable members of society without help. Each August 6, we not only remember those who perished at Hiroshima, but also the doctors, nurses, and volunteers who persevered to save lives.<\/p>\n<\/a>
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Photo by Shunkichi Kikushi<\/a>, Taken at Oshiba Relief Hospital two months after the atomic bomb.<\/em>
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