
Porter County's first female physician finally has a tombstone; historical marker unveiled downtown, too
During twin ceremonies in the grueling heat Saturday, Dr. Almira Fifield received one accolade after another, giving her long-deserved recognition for her accomplishments and dedication.
Fifield died March 8, 1863, at the hospital in Paducah, Kentucky, where she tended sick and wounded soldiers during the Civil War for 11 months. She had received her doctor of medicine degree just a decade after Elizabeth Blackwell, the nation's first female physician, received hers.
'We gather to restore her place in history in recognition of her service and her sacrifice,' said Diane Schweitzer, who organized the commemoration and worked with researcher Barbara Fifield Brandt to dig up more information about the Fifield family. Schweitzer is regent with the William Henry Harrison Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.
Jane Schultz, author of 'Women at the Front: Hospital Workers in Civil War America,' said Fifield was part of 'a small circle of women who managed despite raised eyebrows and occasional harassment.'
'To pursue a career in medicine was tantamount to denunciation of marriage or motherhood,' Schultz said.
Dr. Fifield might have set up a medical practice in Valparaiso, but that hasn't been determined yet, she said.
'Women were neither invited nor imagined as potential members of the AMA (American Medical Association),' but at New England Female Medical College in Boston, Fifield was accepted.
When the Civil War broke out, the small number of female doctors couldn't join the Union Army as physicians. 'The best they could do was to seek appointments as nurses or matrons, those who managed other female nurses,' Schultz said.
'Despite this official ban on youth, however, persistent young women managed to find their way into hospital service. This was certainly the case for Dr. Fifield,' she said.
Fifield had hoped to join the 9th Indiana Infantry Regiment, in which her brother Zacheus served, but was denied. Instead, she was posted at the Union Army hospital in Paducah, Kentucky.
The bloody battle at Shiloh greatly increased demand for medical workers, which allowed her services to be accepted. Fifield died of what Brandt, a medical researcher, believes was meningitis.
'Under 18 women who received their MDs before 1861, including Southerners, ultimately served in one capacity or another during the Civil War,' Schultz said.
'The women who came into the service with medical degrees were rare and remarkable,' she said. They were officially listed as nurses, but nothing prevented them from using their medical knowledge, Schultz said.
The female physicians' experiences 'were filled with medically and racially complex interactions with people she would not otherwise have met or otherwise treated in civilian life,' Schultz said.
The war offered doctors 'an unprecedented opportunity to address bodily debilities of every kind, not only wounds and amputations, but undiagnosed diseases and chronic illnesses in the era before the germ theory was widely embraced by the medical community,' she said.
The war saw 750,000 deaths and millions of casualties, offering 'a bloody banquet of clinical experience,' Schultz said.
Two-thirds of the deaths were the result of 'the withering effect of disease, when bodies were undernourished and taxed to their physical limits,' she said.
Many of the relief workers were convalescing soldiers, but patients often said they preferred being tended by women, who reminded them of their mothers and sisters. 'Women would listen to their stories, acknowledge their humanity and sympathize,' Schultz said.
Fifield's day would have begun about 6 a.m., organizing delivery of breakfast to inmates. If the hospital was understaffed, she would empty night jars, wash faces and torsos and tidy up bedding, Schultz said. Her main job was assisting the surgeon in charge during rounds, taking notes of patients' conditions and any progress.
'Women who impressed their surgical peers as especially proficient were to help debride, irrigate or dress wounds, hold appendages during procedures and even do stitch and scalpel work, and that was all before lunch,' Schultz said.
Fifield's typical day would have been 16 hours, but could be as long as 18 to 20 during busy times.
'We can only hope the surgeons who directed work at the Paducah hospital saw her talent and maturity and sought her assistance,' Schultz said.
'Twenty-first century hospitals still make use of the military system or organization that is a legacy of Civil War medicine at the temporary hospitals, some of them in tents, that dotted the landscape,' Schultz said.
Casey Pfeiffer, of the Indiana Historical Bureau, led the unveiling of the historical marker south of the Porter County Museum on Franklin Street.
'Markers are snapshots, continuing to remind us of our past,' she said.
'History teaches us lessons about our past while informing us about our present,' Pfeiffer said.
City Council President Ellen Kapitan read a proclamation by Mayor Jon Costas proclaiming Saturday Dr. Almira Fifield Day, honoring the doctor who gave her life in service to her country and encouraging citizens to reflect on the privilege, rights and responsibilities of being an American.
At Union Street Cemetery, where the new marker on Fifield's grave was joined by one honoring the Fifields as a pioneer family, the accolades continued.
Terri Lehman, president of the Society of Indiana Pioneers, announced 'this extraordinary Hoosier' was honored May 31 as one of less than 10 Distinguished Hoosiers in the society's 109-year history. Overall, the society has honored 10,020 Hoosier ancestors.
Brandt, whose research into Fifield stemmed from just a few sentences about her in a notebook on the Fifield family history from Brandt's late father, laid two wreaths, one on Dr. Fifield's grave and one for the entire family.
More than 60 members of the Fifield family from the East Coast, West Coast and points in between gathered to honor Dr. Fifield, Brandt said. Dr. Fifield died at age 29, unmarried and childless.
Six siblings descended from Dr. Fifield's brother Zacheus, their great-great-grandfather, attended.
'It's cool to walk the land that our ancestors walked,' said Ann Fifield of Dartmouth, Massachusetts.
'This is really wonderful,' said Lisa Fifield Snadderly, of Portland, Oregon. She is a nurse whose father is a physician.
Scott Fifield, of Duluth, Minnesota, where he and his siblings grew up, said he and a brother visited the cemetery two years ago and were impressed by how much the DAR did to clean it up since then.
'Beautiful cemetery, lovely people, hot day,' said Doug Fifield, of Duluth.
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New York Post
3 days ago
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Los Angeles Times
4 days ago
- Los Angeles Times
What's Really in Your Kids' Furniture? How to Find Safe, Chemical-Free Pieces for Your Home
LA Times Studios may earn commission from purchases made through our links. Most parents don't plan for their child's first taste of at some point, it happens. A tooth mark on the crib rail, a sticky mouth print on the dresser corner. In that moment, the question isn't just 'will it stain?' but 'is this safe?' As the realities of chemical exposure in kids' rooms come to light, decoding the labels on furniture has become more important. Thanks to mounting research and a new breed of food-safe furniture makers, there's starting to be clarity (and accountability) behind the labels that line showroom floors and pop up in your social feeds. Here's how to cut through the greenwashing, decode certifications, and shop with genuine peace of mind. A recent study put numbers to what every parent fears: more than two dozen phthalates, flame retardants, and other chemicals are hiding in children's bedrooms, not just in old toys but in the beds, nightstands, and even the mattress itself. 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'If your child were to lick the bed rail or nibble on a dresser corner, there wouldn't be any harmful chemicals to worry about with a food-safe product.' Schultz continues that while 'food-safe' does not have a certification that goes with it in terms of furniture, there is a specific testing protocol. 'Food-safe means the finish meets FDA protocols for food-contact surfaces, just like a dinner plate or a spoon would,' Schultz says. 'It's an extra level of reassurance for parents who want to know that what's on the furniture is as safe as what goes in their child's mouth.' Certified food-safe finishes are tasteless, odor-free, and meet or exceed the same requirements as FDA-approved dinnerware. The best examples: solid, responsibly sourced wood, water-based coatings, and adhesives so clean you could, well, lick them. That cute nightstand or bookshelf in your child's room may have more in common with a chemistry set than we'd like to think. Phthalates, used to soften plastics, are known to disrupt hormones and have been well-documented by the CDC for their effects on children's health. Formaldehyde, found in adhesives and engineered woods, is classified as a carcinogen by the EPA and remains a mainstay in the construction of mass-market furniture. Flame retardants, often hailed as lifesaving, have instead been repeatedly linked by NIH studies to developmental and neurological problems. Then there are organic compounds. That 'factory-fresh' smell clinging to new dressers or cribs is more than a novelty. According to the EPA, it's the scent of chemicals evaporating into your child's space. Great. And when furniture warms up, gets heavy use, or starts to wear, the rate of chemical off-gassing gets worse. As Schultz explains, 'Kids are uniquely vulnerable: they breathe faster, their bodies are still developing, and let's be honest, if it's within reach, it's probably going in their mouths.' In a world of splashy marketing, what separates a truly safe product from empty promises? Certifications are where the details matter. If a brand can't offer them, keep shopping. Schultz points to transparency and independent testing as the only meaningful standards. 'If the language feels too broad, it's worth questioning. Also, be wary of prices that seem too good to be true. Solid hardwood furniture with real safety testing costs more to make than mass-produced particleboard with synthetic finishes.' Look for specifics: GREENGUARD® Gold certification means products are tested for hundreds of VOCs. FSC® labels guarantee responsibly sourced wood. MADE SAFE® screens for thousands of potential toxins. Some manufacturers, like Naturepedic, go further by batch testing for lead, phthalates, formaldehyde, and heavy metals. FDA food-contact compliance should never be assumed. Ask directly whether finishes meet the relevant standards. Any reluctance from a manufacturer to disclose these details is your cue to move on. 'Transparency and third-party testing are key,' Schultz insists. A safe product will come with receipts. Look for clear documentation on what's in the finishes and adhesives, and insist on solid wood over ambiguous 'wood products.' If you see claims like 'eco' or 'non-toxic' but can't find third-party verification, consider it a warning sign. 'Proprietary blend' ingredients? Vague descriptions? Walk away. Price is another indicator. Genuinely food-safe, well-crafted furniture rarely comes at a bargain-basement rate. Brands like Max & Lily are upfront about using GREENGUARD® Gold finishes on their solid pine pieces. And the new wave of heirloom-quality makers (Oeuf, Milton & Goose, and Piccalio) are direct about their use of natural, food-grade materials. Bigger names like Avocado are now featuring GREENGUARD® Gold collections too. The research is catching up: indoor air quality, chemical exposure, and children's health are all inextricably linked. U.S. regulations are beginning to reflect this, albeit slowly, as attention to issues like PFAS and formaldehyde grows. Schultz puts it plainly: 'Over the past decade, parents have become a lot more informed about indoor air quality and everyday exposures. We've seen this with organic food, non-toxic cleaning products, even mattresses. Now that same awareness is shifting to what kids are breathing in and touching day after day in their bedrooms.' Don't get distracted by cute hardware or a clever product name. Before you buy, ask for real answers: Will food-safe become the rule, not the exception? Schultz thinks so. 'Not just as a premium feature but as the baseline standard for kids' furniture. We're at this intersection of wellness and home design where people are rethinking what they bring into their homes, realizing it matters just as much as the food on their plates or the air they breathe.' Style doesn't have to come at the expense of safety anymore. The real measure of quality isn't a trend or a label, but the assurance that what's in your child's room is as safe as it is well made. When a bed rail is finished with food-safe materials, there's nothing left to second-guess.