Too much information

Before Cushing appeared on the scene in the early 20th century, neurosurgery had a 70 per cent mortality rate. This is because the brain uses almost a litre of blood every minute and is surrounded by 600km of blood vessels (sorry to have to give the figure in metric, by the way, but the information came from a BBC programme, so what do you expect?), resulting in massive exsanguination when you try cutting it up. Cushing — of whom it was said that ‘the only thing he ever loved was the pituitary gland’ and once carried on with an operation having been told his son had just been killed in a car crash — changed all that. He devised an ingenious series of mini-clamps and springs to help stop the blood spurting everywhere, reducing brain surgery mortality to a more modest 10 per cent.

Today, neurosurgery is so sophisticated that you can lop off the top of a young woman’s skull and chat to her in the operating theatre as you tinker with her brain. The idea is that, before you cut out any bits, you can first establish by prodding them and sending electrical impulses through them that they’re not serving some vital function. We actually saw this happening on TV before our very eyes. It was revolting. I yelped and groaned. I covered my eyes with my hands. I felt weak. Then I’d had enough and fast forwarded.

Quality, lucid, un-dumbed-down TV, though. And there’s precious little of that around these days.