18
The Body Electric
the patient's own resistance. Confident in my new medical knowledge, I
was horrified to find that we were powerless to change the course of this
infection in any way.
It's hard for anyone who hasn't lived through the transition to realize
the change that penicillin wrought. A disease with a mortality rate near
50 percent, that killed almost a hundred thousand Americans each year,
that struck rich as well as poor and young as well as old, and against
which we'd had no defense, could suddenly be cured without fail in a
few hours by a pinch of white powder. Most doctors who have graduated
since 1950 have never even seen pneumococcal pneumonia in crisis.
Although penicillin's impact on medical practice was profound, its
impact on the philosophy of medicine was even greater. When Alex-
ander Fleming noticed in 1928 that an accidental infestation of the mold
Penicillium notatum had killed his bacterial cultures, he made the crown-
ing discovery of scientific medicine. Bacteriology and sanitation had al-
ready vanquished the great plagues. Now penicillin and subsequent
antibiotics defeated the last of the invisibly tiny predators.
The drugs also completed a change in medicine that had been gather-
ing strength since the nineteenth century. Before that time, medicine
had been an art. The masterpiece—a cure—resulted from the patient's
will combined with the physician's intuition and skill in using remedies
culled from millennia of observant trial and error. In the last two cen-
turies medicine more and more has come to be a science, or more accu-
rately the application of one science, namely biochemistry. Medical
techniques have come to be tested as much against current concepts in
biochemistry as against their empirical results. Techniques that don't fit
such chemical concepts—even if they seem to work—have been aban-
doned as pseudoscientific or downright fraudulent.
At the same time and as part of the same process, life itself came to be
defined as a purely chemical phenomenon. Attempts to find a soul, a
vital spark, a subtle something that set living matter apart from the
nonliving, had failed. As our knowledge of the kaleidoscopic activity
within cells grew, life came to be seen as an array of chemical reactions,
fantastically complex but no different in kind from the simpler reactions
performed in every high school lab. It seemed logical to assume that the
ills of our chemical flesh could be cured best by the right chemical
antidote, just as penicillin wiped out bacterial invaders without harming
human cells. A few years later the decipherment of the DNA code
seemed to give such stout evidence of life's chemical basis that the dou-
ble helix became one of the most hypnotic symbols of our age. It seemed
the final proof that we'd evolved through
4 billlion years of chance mo-