This story appeared on the front page of the Minneapolis Tribune. The accompanying graphic is helpful, but neither it nor the story explains how the patient will survive without a stomach.
THIS MAN WILL LIVE WITHOUT A STOMACH
The rare, delicate and dangerous operation of gastrectomy was performed on Jacob Wichmann in the German hospital, Brooklyn, recently. It was done to save Mr. Wichmann’s life, for he had a cancer of the stomach which would have soon killed him. He well stood the operation, which lasted three hours, and he has a fine chance to live. The surgeons cut through the patient’s abdominal walls, and raised the stomach. They then tied the end of the gullet and the beginning of the small intestine. The gullet was cut above, and the beginning of the small intestine was cut below the ligations. The stomach, thus free from its connections, was taken out through the incision in the abdominal walls. The surgeons then sewed together the ends of the gullet and of the small intestine, giving a continuous alimentary canal to Mr. Wichmann. Then the surgeons sewed up the wounds made by the knife.
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Without major league sports or even a decent shopping mall, entertainment options were somewhat limited in these parts in 1915. Twin City Lines, which ran the streetcars, used this three-column ad in the Minneapolis Morning Tribune to drum up interest in trips to the “wonderful” new state prison outside Stillwater.
Most men are anxious for appreciation in their homes and feel frustrated unless this is expressed. After all, they battle the world all day and want peace at home.
“We’re bringing her to the hospital now! Have the doctors ready! We’ll be there in five minutes!” When the foregoing message in an agitated woman’s voice rang in her ear over the telephone, Miss Olive Johnson, night superintendent of nurses at St. Barnabas Hospital, got into action with the speed of professional system. She sensed at least a serious automobile accident. Within the stipulated five minutes two physicians, the night surgeon, two nurses and three or four attendants stood mobilized in the operating room.
Mrs. Helga Estby and her daughter, Clara Estby, of Spokane, Wash., who last year performed the marvelous feat of walking from Spokane to New York city, arrived in Minneapolis last evening on their way home, and are at present at the Excelsior-Scandia house. They came from Chicago, which city they left May 5.
A century ago, the Minneapolis post office hand-sorted a half-million letters a day. More than 2,000 arrived with mangled or incomplete addresses. Here's how patient specialists dealt with letters that "would baffle an expert in hieroglyphics."