Enclothed Cognition

In the spirit of making continual changes for the better, based on customer/colleague feedback, we've made another one. Free shipping on orders over $100. Lab coats. Scrub sets. Clogs. Any combination of items in your cart over $100 – it's now an automatic feature of our website. We're committed to making our quality lab coats and scrubs as easy to order as possible. We're always available during business hours to answer your calls and assist with the ordering process, but we wanted to go an extra step to make our online ordering process much simpler. As a service to our customers, all orders over $100 (before taxes, coupons, gift certificates, or store credit) will now receive free ground shipping for any location within the U.S. No shipping decisions to make and no extra charges . . . just quick and easy ordering, so you can look and feel confident, poised, and professional with minimal effort.

We have a tradition here at Medelita of naming our lab coats after medical pioneers – extraordinary men and women in history that have contributed to the medical field in interesting ways. For our next men’s lab coat, a prestigious looking, highly tailored coat that exudes professionalism, we've given our customers a chance to get involved. William James Mayo, MD was just one of the names suggested - and I'll be examining more of our submissions in the coming days. “The best interest of the patient is the only interest to be considered." These words, spoken by William James Mayo, M.D., reflect the patient-centric ideology of this famous physician. One of the seven founders of the Mayo Clinic, W.J. Mayo was greatly involved in the creation of the world's first private integrated group practice. Born the children of a pioneer physician, William and his brother Charles often accompanied their father on his rounds, gaining more responsibility as they grew older. At the age of 16, William accompanied his father to an abandoned hotel, where a patient had just died, and watched his father perform the autopsy. Needing to attend another patient, Dr. Mayo left his son to finish the procedure. "Sew up the incisions and then tuck the sheet around the corpse. When you finish, go right home." William recounted the incident many years later saying, "I'm about as proud of the fact that I walked out, instead of ran, as of anything else I ever made myself do." William James Mayo continued to follow his father's example. He earned his medical degree from the University of Michigan in 1883, and, when a tornado stuck their home of Rochester that same year, the Mayos were instrumental in establishing a temporary hospital to treat the injured. Following the incident, Dr. Mayo and his two sons worked with the Sisters of Saint Francis to establish Saint Mary's Hospital - the foundation of the Mayo Clinic.

I'm sure you all remember the moment that you received your first white coat. For some of our colleagues, it was during a White Coat Ceremony - a tradition symbolic of the beginning of your medical journey. For many, like guest blogger, Dr. Anne Kennard, the moment didn't live up to expectations. "The White Coat Ceremony was the beginning of medical school, the confirmation that yes, I was going to be a doctor, and I couldn't wait. As the dean of the program called my name and placed the coat on my shoulders, I smiled . . . and then noticed that the sleeves almost covered my fingers. I walked off the stage, a little disconcerted, pulling the coat around me, finding that it could wrap around far past the buttons." For others, disappointment followed a frustrating shopping trip. "I distinctly remember buying my first lab coat, required before starting PA school," says Founder, Lara Manchik, PA-C, "I went into a local uniform store that was stocked to the ceiling with completely shapeless, frumpy options. I was perplexed at the sizing that meant nothing to me, and the fabric that was abrasive and stiff. An initially exciting event had just turned sour, and I can remember that experience (15 years ago) clear as day. " Our primary goal at Medelita is to ensure that medical professionals feel confident and polished in their medical garments. Yet from everything we've heard and experienced, a reluctant acceptance of low-quality garments seems to be an intrinsic medical school experience. Never a company to shy away from challenges, we're seeking to shift this paradigm by offering a 25% discount on our line of professional student lab coats. By offering this deep discount on our Elizabeth B. women's student lab coat and our Fleming men's student lab coat, we're hoping to make these quality garments more accessible for medical students. Through this program, we're dedicated to providing medical students with garments deserving of their chosen career - tailored lab coats that reflect the prestige and aptitude of the path ahead of them. For Anne Kennard, MD, Medelita made a difference that it's our sincere hope to bring to students nationwide, "Then, I got my Medelita white coat. [...] Now, I walk in confidently, knowing that I look professional and polished, and that this is a better representation of me." Please forward or share this with your colleagues, and help us to make medical students more aware of the discount available to them.

Wilder Graves Penfield, OM, CC, CMG, FRS (January 26, 1891 – April 5, 1976) was, ironically, the son of a failed physician. In 1899, his father's failed medical practice forced his mother to take the children to live with her parents, becoming a writer, housekeeper, and Bible teacher in order to support her family. In 1909, Wilder attended Princeton University, and became actively involved in both football and wrestling, as he earned a degree in philosophy. Though his initial direction had not been to follow in his father's (albeit failed) footsteps, a desire to help people and a passion ignited by his college biology classes, inspired him to apply for a Rhodes Scholarship. In 1914, he left America to attend the University of Oxford in England. As a student, Wilder Penfield was assisted by our own Sir William Osler, Oxford’s Regius Professor of Medicine. Osler invited the young American to accompany him on medical consultations around England from one hospital to another, and through his association, Penfield came to regard medicine as "mankind's most noble calling." Eager to help his fellow man, Penfield was also a volunteer for the Red Cross, and in 1916, the ship on which he was travelling for the Red Cross was blown up by a German torpedo in the English Channel. He was reported dead and his obituary was published in an American newspaper, but he in fact survived the attack, spending several weeks in recovery. Over the course of the next several years, Wilder Penfield traveled extensively, working in Baltimore, Paris, Boston, London, New York, Madrid, and Montreal as he delved further into the study of neurology. While working as a member of the faculty at McGill University, Penfield was called upon to remove his sister's brain tumor. After finding that the tumor was malignant and far advanced, Penfield performed a more radical operation than most neurosurgeons would have dared to attempt. Although the operation made it possible for his sister to enjoy a normal life again, he was unable to safely remove all of the malignant cells and she died three years later. His sister's case spurred Wilder Penfield to establish The Montreal Institute of Neurology, which opened in 1934 and became the world's first international center for research and treatment related to diseases of the nervous system.

Albert Ross Tilley, CM OBE (November 24, 1904 – April 19, 1988) was a Canadian plastic surgeon who pioneered the treatment of burned airmen during Second World War. Tilley was born in Bowmanville, Ontario and graduated from the University of Toronto in 1929. He was one of the first physicians in Canada to train in plastic surgery, and was the first to teach plastic surgery at Queen's University. A member of the Canadian Army Medical Corps Militia, Tilley was transferred to the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) Medical Branch at the start of the Second World War and became the Principal Medical Officer. In 1942, he worked at the Queen Victoria Hospital with Dr. Archibald McIndoe where burned airmen were treated. Their patients referred to themselves as the Guinea Pig Club. The treatment of burns via surgery was still in its infancy, and these badly wounded men underwent a great deal of experimental reconstructive plastic surgery. One man, Air Gunner Les Wilkins, lost his face and hands and his fingers were recreated by making incisions between his knuckles. Many burns required several surgical operations that took years to accomplish. Initially the club was a drinking club whose aim was to help rehabilitate its members during their long reconstructive treatments. It was formed in June 1941 with 39 patients. By the end of the war, the Guinea Pig Club had 649 members. In 2006, Albert Ross Tilley was inducted into Canada's Aviation Hall of Fame for "his exceptional skills and radical new medical techniques, his total devotion to the treatment of airmen’s burns and reconstruction of deformities, his understanding of the need to treat both the body and the spirit, giving his patients the will and ability to reintegrate into society, have benefited Canada and the world."

My first rotation was terrifying. Internal medicine at St. Mary’s Hospital in Brooklyn. I remember driving there the first morning, watching the sun peek through project housing, thinking “where is everyone???”

Grey is often considered the color of intellect, knowledge, and wisdom. It is perceived as classic, sleek and refined. It is a color that is dignified, conservative, and carries authority. The human eye can distinguish about 500 shades of grey, so, for us, the task of designing grey scrubs was far more than simple. As with all of our products, a great deal of thought was given to choosing our next scrub color - and then choosing the exact shade of that color. In our research and your responses to surveys, grey was the top color consistently requested among both men and women. We were very careful in our color selection, choosing a shade that has depth and is flattering on all skin tones. It's also our first scrub set to feature similar contrast trim across genders - with women's grey scrubs being a light blue tone and men's grey scrubs a slightly darker blue. Suffice to say, we're very excited about this newest addition to our product line, and we'd love to share a little bit of that excitement with you. To celebrate the launch of our new Grey scrubs, this week is officially a Grey Scrubs Giveaway! We'll be giving away a set of new grey scrubs EVERY DAY (Monday - Friday) on Facebook. All you have to do to enter is like or comment on the Scrub Set post of the day, and you'll have a chance to win a FREE set of our new grey scrubs. Be sure to check back with us on Facebook every day to take advantage of this opportunity.

As you probably already know, the popular phrase ‘knee-jerk reaction’ has its roots in medicine. Before the convenience of technology and diagnostic imaging, medical professionals often needed to ascertain what was happening internally by examining external clues. The stethoscope was one of the first tools developed to assist in this process, and the reflex hammer followed shortly after. Reflexes first came into the spotlight in the early 1800s, when research by Marshall Hall established that blinking, sneezing and vomiting were reflexes controlled by the human nervous system. Later, in 1875, two physicians, Heinrich Erb and Carl Friedrich Otto Westphal, published papers on the clinical utility of the muscle stretch reflex - specifically the patellar or “knee-jerk” reflex. These papers sparked widespread research, and smooth muscle reflexes became a vital part of neurological exams. As they incorporated this new field of study into their practices, many physicians used a tool that they already carried with them: a percussion hammer - a tool used to examine the chest. However, the design proved to be less than perfect in its new application, and other physicians found resourceful ways to incorporate entirely different tools. In the 1880's, William Gowers coined the phrase "myotatic reflex" for the knee-jerk reflex, and he recommended striking the patellar tendon with the rubber edge of the end of a stethoscope. Alluding to far more unorthodox methods, Bernhard Berliner is quoted as having said "it is not very elegant to percuss the knee or achilles tendon with a paper weight, the edge of a large electrode, the foot of a laboratory stand, a table lamp, or similar devices." Luckily for stethoscopes, table lamps, and patients' knees, the first official reflex hammer was designed in 1888 by neurologist John Madison Taylor. Taylor was working as the personal assistant to Silas Weir Mitchell at the Philadelphia Orthopedic Hospital and Infirmary for Nervous Disease, and his design featured the triangular rubber head that is frequently seen today. John Madison Taylor's reflex hammer was exhibited at the 1888 meeting of the Philadelphia Neurological Society. The minutes from the meeting described the invention as “a cone flattened on the opposite side, with apex and base carefully beveled or rounded, of about the thickness throughout of the human index finger. … The special feature of this hammer is that the shape of the striking surface is like the outer surface of the extended hand, palm downward, which is more often used in obtaining tendon jerk.” The Taylor hammer was subsequently praised and popularized by many of the founding fathers of American neurology, including Mitchell, who used it in his neurological assessments of Civil War veterans, and Charles Mills, who considered it “the best hammer for tapping the much-abused patellar ligament.” It was later incorporated into the original logo of the American Academy of Neurology.

Did you know that pus was once used extensively for vaccinations? We often take for granted how convenient our lives can be in this modern age. A vaccination, for example, is little more these days than the prick of a needle. Imagine for a moment, however, that in order to receive a flu vaccination, your skin was cut open and the snot of a nearby flu-ridden patient was rubbed into the wound. I'll give you a second to shudder - I know I did, but that is exactly how vaccines were administered back in the days of Edward Anthony Jenner - the father of immunology. Said to have saved more lives than any other man, Edward Anthony Jenner (17 May 1749 – 26 January 1823) was an English physician and scientist from Berkeley, Gloucestershire, who was the pioneer of smallpox vaccine. In the 18th century, smallpox was considered to be the most deadly and persistent human pathogenic disease. The main treatment involved scratching the vein of a healthy person and pressing a small amount of pus, taken from a smallpox pustule, into the wound. The risk of the treatment (and try not to be -too- surprised by this) was that the patient often contracted smallpox and died. In 1788, when an outbreak of smallpox swept through his town, Jenner observed that his patients who worked with cattle, such as milkmaids and farmers, didn't seem to contract smallpox. Investigating further, he discovered that those patients had all, at one time, suffered from a much milder disease called cowpox. In an experiment that would today be considered grievously unethical, Jenner used an eight year old boy named James Phipps to test his new theory. James was the son of Jenner's gardener, and I personally hope that poor Phipps, Sr. got an extensive raise for his willingness to cooperate with such an unreasonably risky request from his employer. Whatever his reasons, Mr. Phipps agreed, and after making two cuts in James’ arm, Jenner infected the boy with pus scraped from the cowpox blisters on the hands of Sarah Nelmes, a milkmaid who had caught cowpox from a cow called Blossom (whose hide now hangs on the wall of the St George's medical school library). The boy had a slight fever for a few days, but recovered swiftly. A few weeks later, Jenner repeated the process using smallpox pus, and the incredibly lucky James Phipps remained healthy. Thus Jenner’s vaccination treatment for smallpox was born. In 1979, the World Health Organization declared smallpox an eradicated disease. However, before you get too comfortable, some smallpox pus samples still remain in laboratories in Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta, Georgia and State Research Center of Virology and Biotechnology VECTOR in Koltsovo, Russia.

Having been born and raised in England, I can attest to the fact that we British folk love our vowels, i.e. colour, honour, catalogue, and dialogue. When my family moved to the United States, I was an exceptionally confused seventh grader - with zero cultural American knowledge, a very different vocabulary, a skirt that was far longer than anyone else's, and an accent that made it impossible to be a wallflower. Luckily for me, I escaped grade school unscathed, and I learned very quickly that there are some general rules concerning the differences between British English and American English. One such rule governs the oft-puzzling interchangeability of Orthopedic vs. Orthopaedic. Many words are written with ae/æ or oe/œ in British English, but a single e in American English, such as paediatric, anaemia, anaesthesia, and orthopaedic. Curiously, however, The American Orthopaedic Association uses the British form rather than the American. Orthopaedic is thus considered appropriate for more formal usage than the American spelling. As to the origin of the word itself, Nicholas Andry is credited with coining the word in 1741. Derived from Greek words for "correct" or "straight" ("orthos") and "child" ("paidion"), it was included in the title of Andry's book, Orthopaedia: or the Art of Correcting and Preventing Deformities in Children.