In 1818, Ignaz Phillip Semmelweis was born into a world of dying women. The finest
hospitals lost one out of six young mothers to the scourge of "childbed fever."
A doctor's daily routine began in the dissecting room where he performed autopsies. From
there he made his way to the hospital to examine expectant mothers without ever pausing to
wash his hands. Dr. Semmelweis was the first man in history to associate such examinations
with the resultant infection and death. His own practice was to wash with a chlorine
solution, and after eleven years and the delivery of 8,537 babies, he lost only 184
mothers--about one in fifty.
He spent the vigor of his life lecturing and debating with
his colleagues. Once he argued, "Puerperal fever is caused by decomposed material,
conveyed to a wound. . .I have shown how it can be prevented. I have proved all that I
have said. But while we talk ,talk, talk, gentlemen, women are dying. I am not asking
anything world shaking. I am asking you only to wash...For God's sake, wash your
hands." But virtually no one believed him. Doctors and midwives had been delivering
babies for thousands of years without washing, and no outspoken Hungarian was going to
change them now!
Semmelweis died insane at the age of 47, his wash basins discarded, his
colleagues laughing in his face, and the death rattle of a thousand women ringing in his
ears. "Wash me!" was the anguished prayer of King David. "Wash!" was
the message of John the Baptist. "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me,"
said the towel-draped Jesus to Peter. Without our being washed clean, we all die from the
contamination of sin. For God's sake, wash.