Word: transplanters
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...second elbowing put Tommy into the University Hospital in Syracuse, where surgeons trying to sew up his lacerated liver discovered that it was cancerous. Since the cancer was found to be incurable, Tommy was referred to Boston's Peter Bent Brigham Hospital for a possible transplant...
...Children's Hospital, across the street from the Brigham, a twelve-year-old boy died June 17 from head injuries suffered in an auto accident. His parents, who refuse to be identified, consented to the transplant. While three surgeons removed and cooled the liver to retard deterioration, Dr. Francis D. Moore (TIME cover, May 3, 1963) and his Brigham team prepared Tommy Gorence to receive it. It was, says Moore, "a very arduous job because of the whopping size of Tommy's liver." Just to get at it entailed making three heroic incisions, two horizontal and one vertical...
France's third heart-transplant patient is a man to whom the ethics and morality of the procedure are of more than usual concern. Father Damien Boulogne is a former professor of philosophy at Dominican seminaries. Two years ago, the priest had suffered a series of heart attacks that left him to tally disabled. Now 57, Father Damien got his new heart at the Hôpital Broussais-La Charité in Paris, where he is now recovering in sterile isolation. From there he wrote for La Vie Catholiqué an account of the soul-searching that preceded...
Father Damien's own resolution of the risks was in favor of the transplant, which he received May 12. Last week, building himself up on a gourmand's menu of pepper steak and Beaujolais, with a midnight snack of lamb chops among his five daily meals, he was busy correcting the proofs of his latest work-on St. Thomas Aquinas, who, says Father Damien, also believed that individual conscience, in individual circumstance, could and must override other rules in order to refer to the unwritten...
...feasible to transplant this territorial identity even to a traffic island. For example, a massive black cube sculpture rests on a tiny traffic island at the juncture of Fourth Avenue and Astor Place, where Manhattan's Bowery slum, hippieland, an industrial zone and a growing clump of theatres all converge. No one, from hippie to day laborer, fails to turn his head as he walks by, an some stop to stare. The work has become an image in my mind which is always positively associated with the area. This one sculpture gave the Astor Place neighborhood a coherent image which...