Apparently this is on one of the fine “Songs in the Key of Z” collections of outsider music, but we only heard it last week. Now you too can hear Buddy’s semi-musical retelling of a visit to an overseas surgeon to remove an unnamed birthmark. It’s in the form of a letter to his mom, but we care too, Buddy!
An un-sedated patient reads a poem dedicated to the scalpel-wielding Dr. Angel Escurdero while under the influence of “Volitive Psychoanalgesia. The video posted on YouTube is linked to the Spanish doctor’s site where he promotes his own artsy approach to medicine and something he calls “noesitherapy,” or “healing by thinking” (from the Greek word “noesis” for “thinking).
After our last post about dramatic surgical styles, it’s hard not to think of Alexis Carrel, the man who really put the “theater” in “operating theater.” As divine as vintage white surgical gowns might be, the diabolical black shrouds preferred by Dr. Carrel surely have them beat.
Carrel, a French surgeon and Nobel Prize winner working in America in the 1920s and 1930s, believed that black aided the mental focus of his surgical team as well as visually highlighting any dust that might appear in the operating room. He therefore not only insisted his team dress head to toe in black, but even had the walls painted that color. The ominous aura did not go unnoticed by journalists covering Carrel’s surgical experiments, especially since that work involved keeping human organs alive outside the body — heady s stuff for an era fascinated with the mad scientists of pulp novels and early horror movies.
Appearing on the cover of Time Magazine only two months after the release of The Bride of Frankenstein, Carrel was treated both as a sinister curiosity and beloved celebrity, the latter in no small part due to his friendship with aviator Charles Lindbergh, who not only who assisted Carrel with the engineering of a perfusion pump necessary for the doctor’s transplant experiments but also shared some of Carrel’s more esoteric perspectives on shaping humanity’s future. These included the possibility of physical immortality and Carrel’s most unfortunate legacy — advocacy of eugenics.
Sure, contemporary blue or green surgical wear may be easier on the eye, but only the white wardrobe of yesteryear really moves us. So it was a great delight to discover the Flickr set of “Knuckles 45,” who obviously shares our appreciation for antique surgical styles. Savor for a moment these depictions of surgeons dressed the way God intended — in a color that evokes not only professional gravitas but the very power of angels, heaven, death and all things unseen. And don’t even get us started on those hoods!
Lisa Wood and her Swallowing Plates reminded us of the topic of swallowed indigestibles, but we still somehow missed National Hairball Day on April 27. To make up for this sad omission we feature the hairball in its most elevated state: the bezoar.
“Bezoars” are accretions of matter fibrous matter such as hair (in cats, for instance) or plant matter (in grazing animals) that form in the stomachs of digestive systems. The name comes from a Persian word meaning “protection from poison,” and bezoars (such as the opulently mounted specimen above) were historically prized for this and other magical properties. The notion was eventually disproven when in 1575, when skeptical surgeon Ambroise Paré caught his cook stealing silver and convinced the disgraced man that if he would swallow poison and then submit to cure by bezoar, he would not be prosecuted for the theft. The trusting man died in agony several hours later.
The hairball or “Trichobezoar” is form of bezoar, which can appear in humans suffering from “Rapunzel’s Syndrome,” the compulsion swallow hair. The results… well, they’re not quite as fairytale-like as they should be.