Title
A Tale of Two Urinals: The Silent Witnesses of the Ward
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Description
In a time before the sterile steel of modern hospitals, two humble companions waited in the quiet shadows of the bedside table. One, a sleek glass vessel—cool, smooth, and transparent, revealing every ounce of its purpose. The other, a sturdy enameled can, battered and chipped from decades of loyal service, its handle worn smooth by countless caregivers’ hands.
Condition
The glass urinal is in remarkably clear condition, its measurements still sharp and easy to read—a testament to its precision design. The enameled urinal, meanwhile, bears the battle scars of decades of use: chips around the spout, a handle worn smooth, and a stubborn label that clings on despite countless washings. Both wear their age with dignity—proof that even the most basic medical tools have their own quiet resilience.
Gallery
Historical context
The glass urinal, with its elegant shape and clear measurements, was a product of the early 20th century’s obsession with precision and hygiene—a step forward from the tin or ceramic versions of the 19th century. The enameled urinal, likely from the 1930s-1950s, reflects the move towards more durable and easily cleaned materials in a world where infection control was still evolving.
Curious Facts, Ephemera, and Trivia
Did you know? In the early days of hospitals, urinals were often made of ceramic or tin, and they were washed by hand between uses—no disposable convenience here!
Some early glass urinals had graduated measurements to help track patient hydration—an early form of the intake/output charts we still use today.
The enameled urinal’s battered handle? That’s pure nostalgia for any nurse or doctor who’s had to help a patient in a cramped hospital ward.
Excerpt
“They watched and listened as hushed voices spoke of ailments and recoveries. They bore witness to the first wobbly steps after surgery and the hushed prayers of a patient hoping for relief.”
Why it is in the Cabinet
These two relics are more than just medical tools—they’re witnesses to a different era of caregiving. As a family physician with an eye for the curious and historical, I wanted them in my Cabinet of Curiosities to remind us of the practical and personal sides of medicine’s past.